Peculiar: Short text only snippet from a simspiration prompt
Well, well, well. What do you know. I wrote something for Peculiar.
Now this is a text only little snippet inspired by a prompt featured on the simspiration community (great place for ideas, folks--oh and full disclosure, it was a prompt I offered on one of their prompt request posts, yeah, that's kind of cheap but what can I say, I liked the prompt).
Prompt (key word): "so fat, so fat"
Characters (in order of appearance/importance): Linus Beaker, Albert Curious, Perry Beaker, Percy Beaker, Pascal Curious
Word count: right around 1,000
Warnings: NONE
(for those who may have forgotten, or just want a little perspective on who's who, Linus and Perry are the twin sons of Pascal and Percy. Albert, Percy, and Pascal are in a committed, closed polyamorous relationship, with Albert now expecting a child of his own)
“DAD!”
Their voices, high pitch and perpetually excited, echoed down the stairwell and mixed with the crash of their eager footfalls.
“Ow. . .hey, watch it. . .”
“Careful. . .,” Percy reminded, “. . .you want to end up on your head?” A reprimand infused with laughter was hardly a deterrent.
“Whatdya make?” Linus flicked at his brother’s ear and, failing to connect, grabbed at his shirt in an attempt to haul him closer. Conversation was never a reason to cease and desist his near constant physical jabbing and verbal taunting.
“Go and sit,” Percy offered, “it’s almost ready.”
Albert closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He used to be able to ignore the noise, sometimes even enjoying the cacophony of the two boys. But that was before the headaches had colonized his head, mixing and overlapping to where it was more one long, ongoing ache than a series of small, treatable ones.
Giving the sauce one final stir, he lifted the wooden spoon to his lips for a taste test.
“EWWW!”
Albert jumped, dropping the spoon back into the pot.
“NASTY. . .then you put it right back in. . .SICK!”
Exchanging the used spoon for a fresh, Albert guided the sauce over a plate piled with spaghetti noodles.
“Double ewww, you’re putting it on the noodles. . .Per. . .check it out. . .GROSS!”
Albert looked from his outspoken critic to his eagerly waiting brother. Perry didn’t budge from his seat or seem concerned in the least.
“Thank you,” he offered as the plate was placed in front of him.
“NO,” Linus barked, elbowing Albert’s belly in an attempt to block Perry’s fork, entwined with spaghetti, from his mouth.
“HEY. . .,” Perry squealed, lifting the full fork away from his brother’s attack.
“Don’t eat it, Per. . .it’s got GERMS!”
At the sound of the word, Perry stared at his brother then, in one smooth motion, tossed the fork away.
“Germs?”
Linus nodded at his gaping brother and the trail of sauce and noodles left by the eagerly discarded utensil.
“Li-nus!,” Albert snapped, rubbing his stomach and slamming the serving platter to the table top. “What are you. . .”
“I didn’t do nothing. . .Perry threw the fork. . .”
Albert sighed loudly.
“Well I didn’t,” he continued.
“Just sit down. . .,” Albert pulled a chair back from the table as he spoke, “. . .and eat.”
Linus looked from Albert to the chair and then back to Albert.
“No.”
The chair creaked as Albert tightened his grip on the back rest.
Slowly, a smile sprouted then spread across the boy’s face, maturing into a proud smirk. Linus’s narrowed eyes trailed down from Albert’s glaring face to his rounded stomach.
“So fat, so fat,” he sang in the lowest of whispers.
“You miserable little shit. . .” His hand was on the boy’s shoulder and shoving him into the chair with a speed and roughness neither of them could have anticipated.
“Al. . .what the hell. . .”
Albert stared at the boy’s father, his hand slowly falling away, his anger curdling into shame.
“Albert grabbed me and. . .,” Linus trailed off, still too shocked to fully understand what had just happened or what the fall out would be.
Albert slowly retreated as Percy advanced and knelt by his still seated son.
“Are you ok?”
Percy examined the boy’s upper arm as Albert backed into and then sat in a neighboring chair. The steady ache in his head had spread to his stomach, forcing him to close his eyes against the sight of the now forgotten spaghetti. He focused on the sound of their voices, father and son, in an attempt to keep from vomiting, or worse, crying.
“Al. . .Al are you ok?”
Percy’s hand on his knee, not his words, brought Albert reluctantly back to the moment.
“Do you need some water. . .you look so pale. . .”
He looked past Percy’s worried face to Linus. The boy looked so much like his fathers, neither of whom were Albert. It was a fact Albert still waited to have hurled at him during one of Linus’s tantrums, tantrums that had increased in frequency as Albert’s due date slowly approached.
Linus took in the full scene, his father doting on Albert as his brother tried to quietly tidy the mess spattered along the table.
“Linus,” Percy tapped his son’s leg, “get Albert some water.”
Reluctantly, Linus slid from his chair and shuffled to the sink. His back to the scene, he toyed with the idea of somehow sullying the water, perhaps with a long string of his own spittle. The sound of the door opening followed by Pascal’s voice convinced him now was not the time to compound his troubles.
“Hey, what smells so. . .,” Pascal’s normal evening inquiry was cut short as he surveyed the scene.
“Perc. . .what’s wrong. . .Al?”
With both his fathers flanking Albert, Linus stared at his own hand as he silently offered the glass to whoever would take it.
Long green fingers closed around the side of glass, securing it. Linus, desperate to remove himself from the heart of the distress he had caused, tried to pull his own hand away but instead found it gently covered and held.
Looking past their hands and the glass of water he’d so begrudgingly fetched, he saw Albert’s face. His eyes were dabs of wet paint, like they would at any moment start seeping down his cheeks leaving black smears on his minty cheeks. He didn’t smile. He didn’t scowl or sigh. Swallowing once, he blinked slowly and, his voice cracking, whispered.
“I’m sorry.”
Now this is a text only little snippet inspired by a prompt featured on the simspiration community (great place for ideas, folks--oh and full disclosure, it was a prompt I offered on one of their prompt request posts, yeah, that's kind of cheap but what can I say, I liked the prompt).
Prompt (key word): "so fat, so fat"
Characters (in order of appearance/importance): Linus Beaker, Albert Curious, Perry Beaker, Percy Beaker, Pascal Curious
Word count: right around 1,000
Warnings: NONE
(for those who may have forgotten, or just want a little perspective on who's who, Linus and Perry are the twin sons of Pascal and Percy. Albert, Percy, and Pascal are in a committed, closed polyamorous relationship, with Albert now expecting a child of his own)
“DAD!”
Their voices, high pitch and perpetually excited, echoed down the stairwell and mixed with the crash of their eager footfalls.
“Ow. . .hey, watch it. . .”
“Careful. . .,” Percy reminded, “. . .you want to end up on your head?” A reprimand infused with laughter was hardly a deterrent.
“Whatdya make?” Linus flicked at his brother’s ear and, failing to connect, grabbed at his shirt in an attempt to haul him closer. Conversation was never a reason to cease and desist his near constant physical jabbing and verbal taunting.
“Go and sit,” Percy offered, “it’s almost ready.”
Albert closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He used to be able to ignore the noise, sometimes even enjoying the cacophony of the two boys. But that was before the headaches had colonized his head, mixing and overlapping to where it was more one long, ongoing ache than a series of small, treatable ones.
Giving the sauce one final stir, he lifted the wooden spoon to his lips for a taste test.
“EWWW!”
Albert jumped, dropping the spoon back into the pot.
“NASTY. . .then you put it right back in. . .SICK!”
Exchanging the used spoon for a fresh, Albert guided the sauce over a plate piled with spaghetti noodles.
“Double ewww, you’re putting it on the noodles. . .Per. . .check it out. . .GROSS!”
Albert looked from his outspoken critic to his eagerly waiting brother. Perry didn’t budge from his seat or seem concerned in the least.
“Thank you,” he offered as the plate was placed in front of him.
“NO,” Linus barked, elbowing Albert’s belly in an attempt to block Perry’s fork, entwined with spaghetti, from his mouth.
“HEY. . .,” Perry squealed, lifting the full fork away from his brother’s attack.
“Don’t eat it, Per. . .it’s got GERMS!”
At the sound of the word, Perry stared at his brother then, in one smooth motion, tossed the fork away.
“Germs?”
Linus nodded at his gaping brother and the trail of sauce and noodles left by the eagerly discarded utensil.
“Li-nus!,” Albert snapped, rubbing his stomach and slamming the serving platter to the table top. “What are you. . .”
“I didn’t do nothing. . .Perry threw the fork. . .”
Albert sighed loudly.
“Well I didn’t,” he continued.
“Just sit down. . .,” Albert pulled a chair back from the table as he spoke, “. . .and eat.”
Linus looked from Albert to the chair and then back to Albert.
“No.”
The chair creaked as Albert tightened his grip on the back rest.
Slowly, a smile sprouted then spread across the boy’s face, maturing into a proud smirk. Linus’s narrowed eyes trailed down from Albert’s glaring face to his rounded stomach.
“So fat, so fat,” he sang in the lowest of whispers.
“You miserable little shit. . .” His hand was on the boy’s shoulder and shoving him into the chair with a speed and roughness neither of them could have anticipated.
“Al. . .what the hell. . .”
Albert stared at the boy’s father, his hand slowly falling away, his anger curdling into shame.
“Albert grabbed me and. . .,” Linus trailed off, still too shocked to fully understand what had just happened or what the fall out would be.
Albert slowly retreated as Percy advanced and knelt by his still seated son.
“Are you ok?”
Percy examined the boy’s upper arm as Albert backed into and then sat in a neighboring chair. The steady ache in his head had spread to his stomach, forcing him to close his eyes against the sight of the now forgotten spaghetti. He focused on the sound of their voices, father and son, in an attempt to keep from vomiting, or worse, crying.
“Al. . .Al are you ok?”
Percy’s hand on his knee, not his words, brought Albert reluctantly back to the moment.
“Do you need some water. . .you look so pale. . .”
He looked past Percy’s worried face to Linus. The boy looked so much like his fathers, neither of whom were Albert. It was a fact Albert still waited to have hurled at him during one of Linus’s tantrums, tantrums that had increased in frequency as Albert’s due date slowly approached.
Linus took in the full scene, his father doting on Albert as his brother tried to quietly tidy the mess spattered along the table.
“Linus,” Percy tapped his son’s leg, “get Albert some water.”
Reluctantly, Linus slid from his chair and shuffled to the sink. His back to the scene, he toyed with the idea of somehow sullying the water, perhaps with a long string of his own spittle. The sound of the door opening followed by Pascal’s voice convinced him now was not the time to compound his troubles.
“Hey, what smells so. . .,” Pascal’s normal evening inquiry was cut short as he surveyed the scene.
“Perc. . .what’s wrong. . .Al?”
With both his fathers flanking Albert, Linus stared at his own hand as he silently offered the glass to whoever would take it.
Long green fingers closed around the side of glass, securing it. Linus, desperate to remove himself from the heart of the distress he had caused, tried to pull his own hand away but instead found it gently covered and held.
Looking past their hands and the glass of water he’d so begrudgingly fetched, he saw Albert’s face. His eyes were dabs of wet paint, like they would at any moment start seeping down his cheeks leaving black smears on his minty cheeks. He didn’t smile. He didn’t scowl or sigh. Swallowing once, he blinked slowly and, his voice cracking, whispered.
“I’m sorry.”