Apr 27, 2007 01:58
=firefly,
=house,
*writing: fic: requests/prompts,
=batman/superman,
*writing: fic,
=batman (nolanverse),
=brokeback mountain: fic,
=the invisible man,
=superman returns,
=brokeback mountain,
*writing,
=cold case,
=superman returns: fic,
=batman (nolanverse): fic,
=star trek: deep space nine
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.Five
“And that, children,” Ms. Patterson said, beaming with what Seth would, in later re-hashings of the traumas of his youth would, term her absolute proof that Satan walks the Earth smile, “is the miracle of life.”
.Four
“And why do I need to learn this?” Seth said, full of a cockiness that kids usually outgrow after kindergarten (but he never did). He held up his hands, wiggling his fingers. “That’s what these are for, duh.”
His teacher just barely resisted the overpowering urge to smack the irritating smirk off his face with the multiplication table she was holding in her hand.
.Three
“What? We were young, Seth! Honestly, son. You should try it sometime. There’s nothing like the smell of fresh Astroturf in the morning and the danger of getting caught to wake you up.”
Seth stuck his fingers in his ears, eyes rolled back up into his head and started chanting. “My parents have never had sex my parents have never had sex my parents have never had sex...”
Sandy clapped him on the back with a wide grin, already planning out the next time he’d assault Seth with inappropriate stories of his and Kirsten’s misspent youth.
.Two
“It was his time, Seth,” Kirsten said, running a hand through his hair. He turned his head away and sat down next to the tiny makeshift grave, silent. Kirsten sighed. The first pets were always the hardest.
.One
“A baseball field, huh?” Ryan said cheerfully, flopping onto Seth’s bed.
“Devilspawn!” Seth yelled, doing a crazy gesture with his hands that was some kind of hybrid between the sign of the cross and a Star of David. Ryan furrowed his brow a bit at that, taking a bite out of his apple.
“We will not speak of this,” Seth continued, making a sharp gesturing motion when Ryan opened his mouth again.
“Alright,” Ryan amended, “So who was Chester?” Another juicy bite.
Seth’s lower lip wobbled a little. “Who told you about Chester?”
Ryan pulled a picture out of his pocket. “Found this in the poolhouse.” It was a crude drawing of two blobs, one of which might have been a little boy, and the other which could have been anything from a bacteriophage to an abstract interpretation of pancakes. Chester was scrawled in Seth’s young hand across the top.
“We will not speak of Chester,” Seth said, tucking the drawing protectively under Captain Oats’ hooves.
“Oooookay.” Ryan tossed the apple core in the garbage. “Well, my new job is pretty cool. Eight-fifty an hour. After a few weeks, I might even make enough to start paying your parents rent.” He held up his hand, quickly shuffling his fingers in the doing calculations in my head way. “Eight-fifty times fifteen hours a week times four weeks in a month...”
Seth ran from the room, arms flailing, screaming at a high volume.
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