A Dozen and Apocalypse, Chocolate Glazed
title: A Dozen and Apocalypse, Chocolate Glazed
author: Incanto
rating: PG?
summary: Chris and Doug search for the last donut in existence in a post-apocalyptic nightmare
assignment: Chris/Doug search for donuts during the apocalypse
notes: please don't take me or this fic seriously. dude. like, seriously, dude.
"I told you we should've used Hershey bars, but you had to go to the mainland to get that Belgian crap."
"The spell said chocolate, okay? It didn't give brand names. They didn't even HAVE Hershey back when it was written, dude."
"Don't be a moron, Chris. Hershey's chocolate was invented by cavedudes. Like, at the dawn of time."
"So what about Nestle then?"
"That was, like, a Protestant offshoot. Like that Luther dude. Martin Nestle put this note on Lord Hershey's door, and it said his chocolate was way corrupt, so he was gonna make his own chocolate."
"What. Ever."
Chris scanned the horizon for standing buildings or signs of life. THUMP! Another mutant body crushed under the refurbished, battle-ready wheels of the Jeep. That would make twenty so far, and still no sign of it - the prize, the round and holy deep-fried grail, the great chocolate-glazed wheel of time. Not even a 7-11 left standing. Desolation loomed closer with each passing ruin.
"We're never going to find it, are we?" Chris sullenly muttered.
"Shut up, dude," Doug threatened. "We can't think like that. We'll find it."
"We should've learned to make them ourselves, dude. I bet the Puritans knew how to make donuts, 'cause they made all their own stuff. Why didn't they put that in the old books of shadows, huh?"
"That witch dude didn't know."
"How do you know?"
"Well, if he'd known, he would've been like, hey dudes, join my evil coven, I brought donuts! And then we would've been like, okay Black John dude! What time's the meeting?"
A pause - and then Chris nodded thoughtfully. He was constantly amazed by how Doug always had the answer to everything, and an answer the made sense, at that. Cassie was great, but compared to Doug, she really didn't know much about the world at all. POW! A strange blue creature that was once a sparrow hit the windshield, and Doug reflexively turned on the wipers to get rid of it.
"That's still gross, dude. Every freaking time," muttered Chris.
"You're tellin' me, dude. And the blue goo makes me think of, like, blue ice cream. We can't get blue ice cream anymore, man, you don't know if it's blueberry or death ray flavor," Doug replied, grumbling.
Chris sighed mournfully his sorrow at this sad fact, and there was a wordlessly agreed-upon moment of silence for the eternal loss of blue ice cream. THUMP! Another mutant. Chris couldn't help but grin at the thought that it might be that Portia chick; he thought that about every single one they hit, and it never got any less funny. Oh no! she'd scream in his brain's private theater. What will happen to my very expensive family jewels? Oh, my designer purse! You're getting it dirty! Oh no, who will spend all my beautiful money when I am gone? Oh, what a world, what a world--
"You're doing that rich chick dying scene in your head again, aren't you?" Doug rolled his eyes.
"Screw you, dude."
"Loser."
Chris punched his brother in the arm, grumbling as usual, and prepared to launch into the long - very long, you have no IDEA how long it is until you've been his brother all your life - list of every stupid loser thing Doug does, when a shining beacon of sugary glory appeared on the horizon. He gasped, eyes widening, and clutched at his brother's sleeve, tugging frantically.
"Dude. DUDE!!! ...Dude. DUDE, dude," he stammered. It was all he could manage.
"I see it, Chris. Don't get excited, it might be one of those mirage things. We might be delirious. Maybe it's like that movie with the guy where at the end you find out he was dead right from the beginning and it was just his life flashing before his eyes, or something."
All Chris managed was an anxious series of little nods. He stared intently at the quickly nearing building, squinting intently and chewing on his lower lip. Could it really be? He wondered. Could their long, tireless search - except for when they got tired and stopped for a while - be finally nearing its final stages? Oh god, what if a mutant already ate everything on the racks? No, that was simply unthinkable. The Powers would never allow an injustice so great. They couldn't.
"I'm totally sure, Doug. We're not making it up. There’s the little Krispy Kreme logo thing and everything."
"Dude..." Doug finally replied, his tone one of pure awe, cautiously pulling up to the small building. "I think... you're right."
They made it out of the car in record time, but quickly turned back to grab their rifles from the Jeep. Nick was good for pipes and wooden planks and lame stuff like you always start out with in horror video games, but Deb had the really cool stash. They didn't ask questions; they simply took what they needed (and what looked wicked cool) and took off.
"Don't lose your cool, dude. There might be all kinda weird shit in there. I know it's hard, but we gotta take it slow," Doug cautioned.
"I know!" Chris snapped, a bit more than he meant to. "I'm not a 'tard, Doug. I'm not gonna freak too soon."
"Good," Doug hissed, scanning the store entry with the hardened gaze of a war veteran. "We go in."
They stormed the shop using all the knowledge gleaned from years of action movies and video games, Doug busting the front doors open while Chris whirled around and around, checking for threats. The inside of the donut shop was a wasteland like the world outside - rubble and dust everywhere, a few dead bodies not doing much other than stinking, and nature - a new, mutant, alien form - slowly overtaking the building. The light was hazy and strange colors outside, and in the shop, where little light got through the dust-coated windows to begin with, everything was a murky twilit gray.
Doug visibly slumped. "It's all dead, dude. Everything's gone. Nothing could've outlasted the damage this long. You know how donuts are, like that one time we had the one leftover piece in the Jeep for a week and it got all nasty."
This time Chris was the one to take charge. "Don't talk like that, man! Let's check in the back, okay? Let's just check in the back," he offered as encouragingly as he could.
Swallowing hard, Doug eventually gave a short nod and a grunt of acknowledgement. The twins snuck stealthily - well, Chris thought they were pretty stealthy, anyway - through the rubble of the blessedly small shop, stepping over remains and furniture with equal caution. Doug leapt dramatically over the counter and flashed Chris a superior grin, daring him to try and best it; on a normal day, Chris would've broken an arm doing just that, but this wasn't a normal day - this was war. With that in mind, he snorted snobbishly at his brother and passed casually through the large opening between wall and counter just a few short feet away.
A few grumbles and pulled punches later, the boys were in the back, scouring through every possible container in their path. Nothing, nothing, mold, dead mutant rats, more mold, nothing, an old issue of Penthouse - Chris stuffed that under his jacket before his brother had time to notice - and a lot more of nothing. It felt like hours of fruitless searching, until finally Chris opened a small freezer and beheld its glorious contents.
Choirs of angels sang triumphantly. Birds would have chirped, if birds as they were once known still existed. The sun shone a little brighter through strange, purple clouds and surreal flowers made of Red Dye #40 and formaldehyde bloomed just a little more than normal. Chris gasped - and then coughed, having inhaled god-only-knows-what floating through the air, which caught Doug's attention.
"What the fuck a-" Doug froze mid-sentence once he saw it.
The final destination. The salvation of all mankind. The key to close Pandora's box of chocolates. A box. THE box. A half-open box that once held a dozen donuts, with one precious sample still inside. Not fresh, of course, that would be too much to hope for, but still salvageable. Still. Fucking. Salvageable. Chris was ecstatic, and a quick glance at Doug showed that his brother was experiencing the same feelings. Quietly, reverently, the two brothers spoke in unison.
"Donut..."
There was another reverent moment of silence, then ecstatic hollering and triumphant yells. Chris and Doug found themselves clinging to each other, all but jumping and squealing like little girls, babbling incomprehensibly to each other in their joy. Euphoria washed over them even before the disbelief at their great fortune had yet to dissipate.
"I love you, man!" Chris exclaimed.
"Oh, dude, I love you too!" was Doug's earnest reply.
And just as suddenly as it happened, it was over. They pulled away, both coughing and straightening up, looking nonchalantly off in opposite directions.
"That was totally gay, dude," Doug very certainly declared.
"Yeah. Let's never do that again," Chris hastily agreed.
"Now. Okay, we've got all the supplies in the Jeep, right?"
"Yeah," Chris answered after a quick mental check.
"Okay, so we go get the spell all set up, and I use the donut, and everything goes back to normal."
Chris nodded soberly, watching as Doug gingerly pulled the lone confection from its holy casing, holding it like one might hold a wounded bird - a regular wounded bird, not those crazy-ass mutants - and pulling it gingerly away from the freezer. Chris held his breath, waiting for the donut to disappear or something, but it stayed. Relief washed over him; the nightmare was about to end.
"Okay, dude. Let's get to the Jeep and do the spell."
"Uh, Doug?"
"Yeah?"
"We don't need the whole thing, do we?"
"I think we do, dude."
"You totally positive?"
"Why?"
"Well, 'cause it's my favorite kind, and I haven't had it in ages now, so if I could just have, like, a little bite..."
"No way, dude."
"But just a-"
"NO."
Chris sighed like a martyr sacrificing his life for the world, putting a hand over his heart. "Okay. Okay, dude. But you're buying me a whole fucking dozen of them when stuff's back to normal."
"You fuckin' wish!" Doug flashed his customary grin as he raced out of the back area, heading for the entrance and the Jeep. The spell would be only minutes away.
The coven always thought it was hilarious when Chris and Doug suggested the balance of the universe hinged on candy. Chris knew nobody would laugh at their wild theories after this, but more than anything else, he hoped he had enough change in his pocket to buy some donuts on the way back to New Salem. He ran quickly after his brother, unable to keep from laughing.
author: Incanto
rating: PG?
summary: Chris and Doug search for the last donut in existence in a post-apocalyptic nightmare
assignment: Chris/Doug search for donuts during the apocalypse
notes: please don't take me or this fic seriously. dude. like, seriously, dude.
"I told you we should've used Hershey bars, but you had to go to the mainland to get that Belgian crap."
"The spell said chocolate, okay? It didn't give brand names. They didn't even HAVE Hershey back when it was written, dude."
"Don't be a moron, Chris. Hershey's chocolate was invented by cavedudes. Like, at the dawn of time."
"So what about Nestle then?"
"That was, like, a Protestant offshoot. Like that Luther dude. Martin Nestle put this note on Lord Hershey's door, and it said his chocolate was way corrupt, so he was gonna make his own chocolate."
"What. Ever."
Chris scanned the horizon for standing buildings or signs of life. THUMP! Another mutant body crushed under the refurbished, battle-ready wheels of the Jeep. That would make twenty so far, and still no sign of it - the prize, the round and holy deep-fried grail, the great chocolate-glazed wheel of time. Not even a 7-11 left standing. Desolation loomed closer with each passing ruin.
"We're never going to find it, are we?" Chris sullenly muttered.
"Shut up, dude," Doug threatened. "We can't think like that. We'll find it."
"We should've learned to make them ourselves, dude. I bet the Puritans knew how to make donuts, 'cause they made all their own stuff. Why didn't they put that in the old books of shadows, huh?"
"That witch dude didn't know."
"How do you know?"
"Well, if he'd known, he would've been like, hey dudes, join my evil coven, I brought donuts! And then we would've been like, okay Black John dude! What time's the meeting?"
A pause - and then Chris nodded thoughtfully. He was constantly amazed by how Doug always had the answer to everything, and an answer the made sense, at that. Cassie was great, but compared to Doug, she really didn't know much about the world at all. POW! A strange blue creature that was once a sparrow hit the windshield, and Doug reflexively turned on the wipers to get rid of it.
"That's still gross, dude. Every freaking time," muttered Chris.
"You're tellin' me, dude. And the blue goo makes me think of, like, blue ice cream. We can't get blue ice cream anymore, man, you don't know if it's blueberry or death ray flavor," Doug replied, grumbling.
Chris sighed mournfully his sorrow at this sad fact, and there was a wordlessly agreed-upon moment of silence for the eternal loss of blue ice cream. THUMP! Another mutant. Chris couldn't help but grin at the thought that it might be that Portia chick; he thought that about every single one they hit, and it never got any less funny. Oh no! she'd scream in his brain's private theater. What will happen to my very expensive family jewels? Oh, my designer purse! You're getting it dirty! Oh no, who will spend all my beautiful money when I am gone? Oh, what a world, what a world--
"You're doing that rich chick dying scene in your head again, aren't you?" Doug rolled his eyes.
"Screw you, dude."
"Loser."
Chris punched his brother in the arm, grumbling as usual, and prepared to launch into the long - very long, you have no IDEA how long it is until you've been his brother all your life - list of every stupid loser thing Doug does, when a shining beacon of sugary glory appeared on the horizon. He gasped, eyes widening, and clutched at his brother's sleeve, tugging frantically.
"Dude. DUDE!!! ...Dude. DUDE, dude," he stammered. It was all he could manage.
"I see it, Chris. Don't get excited, it might be one of those mirage things. We might be delirious. Maybe it's like that movie with the guy where at the end you find out he was dead right from the beginning and it was just his life flashing before his eyes, or something."
All Chris managed was an anxious series of little nods. He stared intently at the quickly nearing building, squinting intently and chewing on his lower lip. Could it really be? He wondered. Could their long, tireless search - except for when they got tired and stopped for a while - be finally nearing its final stages? Oh god, what if a mutant already ate everything on the racks? No, that was simply unthinkable. The Powers would never allow an injustice so great. They couldn't.
"I'm totally sure, Doug. We're not making it up. There’s the little Krispy Kreme logo thing and everything."
"Dude..." Doug finally replied, his tone one of pure awe, cautiously pulling up to the small building. "I think... you're right."
They made it out of the car in record time, but quickly turned back to grab their rifles from the Jeep. Nick was good for pipes and wooden planks and lame stuff like you always start out with in horror video games, but Deb had the really cool stash. They didn't ask questions; they simply took what they needed (and what looked wicked cool) and took off.
"Don't lose your cool, dude. There might be all kinda weird shit in there. I know it's hard, but we gotta take it slow," Doug cautioned.
"I know!" Chris snapped, a bit more than he meant to. "I'm not a 'tard, Doug. I'm not gonna freak too soon."
"Good," Doug hissed, scanning the store entry with the hardened gaze of a war veteran. "We go in."
They stormed the shop using all the knowledge gleaned from years of action movies and video games, Doug busting the front doors open while Chris whirled around and around, checking for threats. The inside of the donut shop was a wasteland like the world outside - rubble and dust everywhere, a few dead bodies not doing much other than stinking, and nature - a new, mutant, alien form - slowly overtaking the building. The light was hazy and strange colors outside, and in the shop, where little light got through the dust-coated windows to begin with, everything was a murky twilit gray.
Doug visibly slumped. "It's all dead, dude. Everything's gone. Nothing could've outlasted the damage this long. You know how donuts are, like that one time we had the one leftover piece in the Jeep for a week and it got all nasty."
This time Chris was the one to take charge. "Don't talk like that, man! Let's check in the back, okay? Let's just check in the back," he offered as encouragingly as he could.
Swallowing hard, Doug eventually gave a short nod and a grunt of acknowledgement. The twins snuck stealthily - well, Chris thought they were pretty stealthy, anyway - through the rubble of the blessedly small shop, stepping over remains and furniture with equal caution. Doug leapt dramatically over the counter and flashed Chris a superior grin, daring him to try and best it; on a normal day, Chris would've broken an arm doing just that, but this wasn't a normal day - this was war. With that in mind, he snorted snobbishly at his brother and passed casually through the large opening between wall and counter just a few short feet away.
A few grumbles and pulled punches later, the boys were in the back, scouring through every possible container in their path. Nothing, nothing, mold, dead mutant rats, more mold, nothing, an old issue of Penthouse - Chris stuffed that under his jacket before his brother had time to notice - and a lot more of nothing. It felt like hours of fruitless searching, until finally Chris opened a small freezer and beheld its glorious contents.
Choirs of angels sang triumphantly. Birds would have chirped, if birds as they were once known still existed. The sun shone a little brighter through strange, purple clouds and surreal flowers made of Red Dye #40 and formaldehyde bloomed just a little more than normal. Chris gasped - and then coughed, having inhaled god-only-knows-what floating through the air, which caught Doug's attention.
"What the fuck a-" Doug froze mid-sentence once he saw it.
The final destination. The salvation of all mankind. The key to close Pandora's box of chocolates. A box. THE box. A half-open box that once held a dozen donuts, with one precious sample still inside. Not fresh, of course, that would be too much to hope for, but still salvageable. Still. Fucking. Salvageable. Chris was ecstatic, and a quick glance at Doug showed that his brother was experiencing the same feelings. Quietly, reverently, the two brothers spoke in unison.
"Donut..."
There was another reverent moment of silence, then ecstatic hollering and triumphant yells. Chris and Doug found themselves clinging to each other, all but jumping and squealing like little girls, babbling incomprehensibly to each other in their joy. Euphoria washed over them even before the disbelief at their great fortune had yet to dissipate.
"I love you, man!" Chris exclaimed.
"Oh, dude, I love you too!" was Doug's earnest reply.
And just as suddenly as it happened, it was over. They pulled away, both coughing and straightening up, looking nonchalantly off in opposite directions.
"That was totally gay, dude," Doug very certainly declared.
"Yeah. Let's never do that again," Chris hastily agreed.
"Now. Okay, we've got all the supplies in the Jeep, right?"
"Yeah," Chris answered after a quick mental check.
"Okay, so we go get the spell all set up, and I use the donut, and everything goes back to normal."
Chris nodded soberly, watching as Doug gingerly pulled the lone confection from its holy casing, holding it like one might hold a wounded bird - a regular wounded bird, not those crazy-ass mutants - and pulling it gingerly away from the freezer. Chris held his breath, waiting for the donut to disappear or something, but it stayed. Relief washed over him; the nightmare was about to end.
"Okay, dude. Let's get to the Jeep and do the spell."
"Uh, Doug?"
"Yeah?"
"We don't need the whole thing, do we?"
"I think we do, dude."
"You totally positive?"
"Why?"
"Well, 'cause it's my favorite kind, and I haven't had it in ages now, so if I could just have, like, a little bite..."
"No way, dude."
"But just a-"
"NO."
Chris sighed like a martyr sacrificing his life for the world, putting a hand over his heart. "Okay. Okay, dude. But you're buying me a whole fucking dozen of them when stuff's back to normal."
"You fuckin' wish!" Doug flashed his customary grin as he raced out of the back area, heading for the entrance and the Jeep. The spell would be only minutes away.
The coven always thought it was hilarious when Chris and Doug suggested the balance of the universe hinged on candy. Chris knew nobody would laugh at their wild theories after this, but more than anything else, he hoped he had enough change in his pocket to buy some donuts on the way back to New Salem. He ran quickly after his brother, unable to keep from laughing.