Eerie, Indiana fanfiction: Belfast Disco
A dozen mud-snakes, dapper in tiny green top hats decorated with shamrocks, slithered over the ruins of what had once been the outdoor seating area of Grandma’s Kitchen. Broken patio furniture lay scattered across the sidewalk, streaked with green-gold blood that glittered in the spring sunlight.
Marshall picked his way through the wreckage, a heavy wire cage under one arm and a long-handled shrimp net slung over his back. Glass crunched beneath his feet as he nudged the shattered remains of a four-top table aside with the duct-taped toe of the newest Sky Monster-brand sneakers.
“I hope you’re pleased with yourself,” he said.
Dash paused in the act of spray-painting a cock and balls onto a giant wooden sculpture of a shamrock. His face briefly assumed a look of wounded innocence, before dissolving into a self-satisfied smirk.
“They started it,” he said. “St. Patrick’s Day is bullshit, most of the people you see celebrating it aren’t even Irish, and there were never any snakes in Ireland.”
There was a tinkling noise as Simon climbed through the gaping hole that had once been the floor-to-ceiling window running the full length of Eerie’s premier geriatric-owned bakery and cafe. He was carrying a milk crate loaded down with potatoes coated in emerald-green glitter.
“I was standing right next to you, Dash,” he said. “They over-reacted, but you provoked them.”
Dash spread his arms wide, the very picture of blamelessness. The can of spray paint still clutched in one hand somewhat spoiled the effect.
“All I did was refuse to try their stupid St. Patrick’s Day special,” he said. “Who puts Guinness in a chocolate cake anyway?” He adopted a horrendously fake Irish brogue. ‘Oh, this cake should taste more like steel, let’s put the worst drink in the entire world in it, hee-hee, ho-ho, I’m probably not even Irish.’”
“He actually said that whole thing,” Simon told Mars. “Complete with the accent and the weird fake laugh and the bit about them not really being Irish.”
“They needed to know their cake was disgusting and also idiotic,” said Dash. “Anyway, then one of them flew over to me in his stupid little pot of gold and hit me with one of those little walking sticks.”
“Shillelagh,” said Simon.
“More like shi-fail-y,” said Dash.
“He said that bit too,” said Simon.
“That’s when they summoned an entire potato harvest down on me,” said Dash. “Ever been pelted with Rooster potatoes? It hurts.”
Marshall poked amongst the potato piles.
“At least half of these are Jersey Royales,” he said.
“Oh, those fake posing bastards,” said Dash.
Microwave-verse
Bonfire by froodle, in which Pinocchio is ruined forever
Gingerbread by froodle, in which there is a witch in the Eerie Woods
Leaves by froodle, in which plantlife finds Marshall entirely too enticing
Offspring by froodle, in which there are dragons
Based on Your Previous Purchases by froodle, in which Mars should really pay attention to Amazon's reccomendations
Housework by froodle, in which a rota cannot be agreed upon
Breakfast by froodle, in which Dash's attempts at cookery do not go well
Ghost in the Machine by froodle, in which a new laptop opens an old wound
Consequences by froodle, in which an encounter with leprechauns leaves the boys very tired indeed
The Microwave by froodle, in which Andrea Fantucci returns to Eerie after a considerable absense
The Eldritch Abomination in the Room by froodle, in which the microwave is most definitely not discussed
Basic Household Maintenance by froodle, in which manticores are inconsiderate houseguests
Torrential by froodle, in which there is a storm, and the boys eat ice-cream
Linens by froodle, in which Dash X makes a bed
Night Music by froodle, in which Simon is woken by a nocturnal visitor
In For The Night by froodle, in which Dash refuses to leave the house
Hound by froodle, in which Simon makes a friend
Errands by froodle, in which Simon has a to-do list
Waterlogged by froodle, in which Eerie experiences heavy rainfall
Wildlife by froodle, in which Simon and Marshall go to the beach
Rainbow by froodle, in which Dash fails to properly appreciate Michael Flatley
Jackolantern by froodle, in which the local pumpkin patch has a problem