man i miss this fuckin show
This kangaroo's the weirdest fucking thing in the world.
Alright, so he's not a kangaroo, he's some other shit, in like a Hawaiian shirt, and Bro's got no idea but this show's alright. It's good for when he's up late and plastered, those reruns that tick off at the ass-crack of I'm Still Drunk o'clock. He wakes up still on the couch sometimes, remote in hand, glasses askew and a liberal amount of drool on his chin.
The best mornings are the ones where Dave wakes up before him, but he ain't gonna admit it. The ones where the little tyke shuffles out in those adorable little motherfucking footie pajamas - and Bro doesn't care if you're a dude or a broad or Hitler or the Grinch or what, you can't not love little shits in footie pajamas, okay - and, if they're lucky and he's remembered to buy shit, for once (it happens less often than he likes), then there's a giant bowl in Dave's lap when Bro comes to, and the cartoons are still full throttle and the room smells faintly of little fruity O's soaking in milk.
And then there's the times he's not quite awake yet and dozes off again with cereal still in his mouth, toddler fingers clutched tightly around the spoon as he faceplants into Bro's side and camps out for a good long time. What a pussy.
Sometimes his back's cricked, or sometimes he's got shit to do, but he'll spare it, what the fuck ever. It's a wallaby, it's a fuzzy thing in a shirt. Family time is goddamn awesome, you motherfuckers.
It's the kind of shit he misses, when Dave's all grown, when pudgy arms turn into gangly limbs (he's a twig, fuck, Bro needs to shop more often) and it ain't cool to curl up like old days. There's a borderline between irony and lame, it's very fine and they walk it pretty fucking dutifully. And this is what Bro thinks about when he's camped out at hellish hours, arms folded, staring down the television like he's gonna jump up and start doing a jig at some odd hour of the night.
And maybe, just this once, the cushion will sag, the weight'll distribute. Bro doesn't move and Dave kicks up his feet on the coffee table.
"Rocko?"
"Mmhmm."
"Let's do it up."