AN: Hello, everyone! I'm back already! This time, I'm back with the first story in a series of one-shots I'm going to write. It's kind of a "between the lines" series, where each story is based on a specific line of dialogue from the movie. This story, as you can probably see from the summary, is based on that wonderful line from the beginning where Bobby and Jack go over to Jerry's house after the funeral, and Jerry reminds Bobby of an incident involving a burnt down treehouse. Well, if that doesn't get the creativity ball rolling, I don't know what does. I'm having trouble deciding which story to work on next, though, so at the end of this story, I'm posting three more ideas, and I'd really appreciate it if guys could let me know which one you want to see. Alright, well that about covers it, so thanks for reading, and enjoy!
By the way, the ages in this story are as follows: Jerry is 12, Bobby is around 16 or 17.
"Do you remember when I built that treehouse and you burnt the shit down? Boy, I wanted to kick your ass!"
Ever since he was very young, Jeremiah Mercer had wanted a treehouse.
Not a big treehouse, necessarily, or a fancy one...it didn't even have to be in a tree, really. He'd seen other kids with them, though. Other kids at school had their own place to hide and play when they were little, to hang out with their friends and do illegal shit without their parents knowing when they were older. Then again, most of those kids probably weren't doing illegal shit in their treehouses...and if he was going to do illegal shit in his tree house, it'd be with Bobby, anyways.
Jerry announced his plan to Evelyn one day after school while scouring the refrigerator for a snack. If he had one talent in life, it was charming his way into getting almost anything he wanted. The first rule was simple: don't beg. Don't even sound remotely excited about the prospect. Asking for anything must be done in a nonchalant manner, seemingly spontaneous, and delivered without any hints of desperation or great need.
"Hey, Ma," he said with a curious, yet indifferent, tone as he lifted himself out of the refrigerator, apple in hand. "How come we don't have a swing set or anything in the back yard?" Rule number two: start big, work your way down.
"Do you think money grows on trees, Jeremiah?" Evelyn replied from the kitchen table, absorbed in her knitting. "Or perhaps you have the funds to pay for one?"
Rule number three: explain yourself, then deny the sensibility of your own idea, letting them think that they have the upper hand. "Well, I was just thinkin' with all the kids you take in, it'd be a good idea," he said, sitting down across from her and taking a bite of his apple. Chewing thoughtfully, he shrugged, and when his mouth was empty, spoke again. "The shelter has one, though, don't they? Yeah, never mind, dumb idea."
"Not dumb, just...not practical at the moment," Evelyn explained, putting her knitting down and looking over at Jerry with an apologetic gaze. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you know if I'm accepting another child next month, we don't really have the money for a swing set right now."
Oh yeah, the new kid, Jerry remembered. He'd forgotten all about his mother's plan to take in another kid, one that wasn't having very much luck finding a permanent home. Too quiet, most people said. Too reserved, too suspicious. That complicates things a little.
"It's alright. I just thought it would be good for the kids." Rule number four: use anything you can to your advantage, especially things that have been recently brought into the conversation. "The new kid might've liked somethin' like that."
Evelyn nodded sadly. "I wish I could've provided you boys with those kinds of things, but I just don't have the money."
Time to take action. "What about something simpler?" Jerry said, eyes lighting up as if he'd just formed a brilliant idea mere seconds ago. "Like...like a treehouse or somethin'. All we'd need was some wood, and some people to help build it. Wood's not that expensive, right?"
"More expensive than you'd think," Evelyn commented. "I don't know where we'd get any, Jeremiah."
"Maybe some people would donate, if they thought it was for a good cause," Jerry reasoned. Close, so close now...
"What the fuck do you want a treehouse for?"
Rule number five, the most important rule of all: never let Bobby get involved.
"Bobby, we've talked about your language in this house, I don't think I need to remind you again," Evelyn said sternly as Bobby wandered into the kitchen, sitting down at the table.
"Come on, Ma, it's not like Jerry's never heard the word fuck before," Bobby said, shrugging.
"Alright, alright." Bobby raised his hands defensively. "No more cussin' in the house."
Evelyn sighed, shaking her head "I'd rather you not cuss at all."
"Yeah, and I'd rather not be suspended, but..."
"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you," Evelyn cut in, and Bobby immediately stopped talking, apologizing to Evelyn. "You know you're already in big trouble for your suspension. Would you like to be in even bigger trouble for being a smart ass to me?"
"No, Ma," Bobby mumbled, looking down at the table. Evelyn gave Jerry a small smile across the table as Jerry tried to hide his snickers by taking another bite of his apple.
"Then I suggest you stop talking before your mouth lands you in your room for the rest of the night, or the rest of the week, for that matter," Evelyn said as she stood. "Jerry, if you can get the wood, I'll allow you to build a treehouse in the backyard."
"Alright! Thanks Ma!"
"If," she continued, holding up a hand to stop him, "you promise that you're not going to do anything questionable to raise the money or acquire the wood for free."
"I won't, I promise," Jerry said, nodding excitedly. He was already forming a plan in his mind as Evelyn left the kitchen, smiling. Bobby stared over at him, smirking, as Jerry grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, scribbling names down fervently as he pushed his apple away.
"What'cha doin' there?" Bobby asked, coming to stand behind Jerry, leaning over and resting his hand on the table. He picked up the apple himself, taking a bite. Jerry didn't answer, just continued writing, and Bobby flicked his ear impatiently. "Hey, dumbass, I'm talkin' to you." At Jerry's silence, he flicked his ear again.
"Would you stop it?" Jerry demanded, waving Bobby's hand away, then setting the pen down, examined the list of names. "Yeah, that should be enough..." he whispered to himself, grinning.
Bobby gave him a quizzical look, standing upright and folding his arms across his chest, setting the apple back down on the table. "You gonna tell me why you're talkin' to yourself, or am I just gonna have to assume that you've gone completely nuts?"
Jerry sighed exasperatedly, shoving the list in Bobby's face. "These are the people I'm gonna get to help me build the treehouse."
Bobby examined the list, nodding, looking back down at Jerry with a shrug. "Hate to tell ya, kiddo, but we don't actually have any extra wood lyin' around. You gonna steal it?"
"I thought about it," Jerry said in a low voice, so that Evelyn wouldn't hear him. "But I don't think I have to."
"Oh yeah? You got some master plan formin' in that little head of yours?"
Jerry nodded, standing and pushing past Bobby, heading towards the stairs and up to his room to think things over. Bobby followed, however, even as Jerry tried to shut the door in his face. He simply pushed the door back open, stretching himself out on the bed as Jerry sat on the floor, bent over a new piece of paper, pencil scribbling across the page. "And you're doin' what, now?"
"I'm designing it," Jerry said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Let me say this a little slower, maybe you didn't understand the first time." Bobby sat up, leaning forward towards Jerry and punctuating each word with a hand gesture in his direction. "You...don't...have...wood."
"I told you, I have a plan."
"Oh really, smart guy?" Bobby asked doubtfully. "Then what's this amazing plan of yours?"
"Why should I tell you?" Jerry murmured, still bent over his drawing.
Bobby shrugged, lying back against the pillow again. "Cause I'll beat your ass if you don't."
Jerry wasn't the least bit phased by Bobby's threat. "Then you'll get in even bigger trouble with Ma."
Snorting, Bobby rested his hands beneath his head. "Ma ain't gonna get mad at me for beating you up. You're a little shit most of the time, anyways."
"I'm not the one who got suspended for smoking," Jerry reminded him.
"I didn't get suspended for smoking," Bobby denied. "I got suspended for flicking my ashes at the principal after I was caught smoking after I beat up some asshole who was clearly askin' for it."
Jerry didn't respond, just sat up straight, picking up his drawing and inspecting it carefully. Satisfied, he opened his drawer, tucking the picture away beneath a pile of t-shirts. He lifted himself up off the floor, closing the drawer and moving over to the bed, smacking Bobby's arm. "Get off my bed, man."
"No way." Bobby closed his eyes, shifting and making himself more comfortable. "Not until you tell me what you're up to."
"I'll just sit on you," Jerry threatened weakly, and Bobby just chuckled at the statement.
"Oh, fuck, I'm really scared now," he mocked. "What do you weigh, like fifty pounds?"
"Get up," Jerry insisted, pulling at his arm again. "Come on, I won't tell you if you don't get up."
"And I won't get up until you tell me," Bobby said, pulling his arm out of Jerry's grasp. "Now I'm perfectly comfortable here, so you can either tell me and I'll move, or..."
"Fine," Jerry said, rolling his eyes, and Bobby sat up triumphantly, Jerry sinking down next to him. "I'm gonna ask the shelter to donate it."
"Seriously?" Bobby asked, leaning back in disbelief at Jerry's nod. "Man, I wouldn't go within a fuckin' mile of that place if I didn't have to."
"I know." Jerry also knew that Bobby had a pretty grounded hatred for the children's shelter, considering that he spent most of his childhood in group homes. It was either group homes or foster families, and Bobby hadn't had much luck with those. Most people would take him in for only a small amount of time, realizing how exhausting raising a child, especially a kid like Bobby, could be. "They like Ma a whole lot, though. I figure if I say that she wants the wood for the new kid she's bringin' it, and for the kids in the neighborhood, they'll be more likely to give it to me."
"You really want this thing for the new kid, or for yourself?" Bobby asked.
"For the new kid," Jerry lied, forcing a laugh as Bobby looked at him skeptically. "What would I want a treehouse for?"
Bobby shrugged. "Beats me. I don't know what the fuck goes on in the mind of a twelve year old." He paused, looking thoughtfully at the wall for a moment, before an idea came to him. "Can I smoke in it?"
"What? Why do you wanna smoke in my treehouse?"
"Ah, so it is yours," Bobby said with a grin and Jerry smacked his arm.
"Why do you wanna smoke in the treehouse?"
"Because Ma'll flip out if she catches me smokin' again, after the suspension," Bobby explained.
"You shouldn't smoke," Jerry instructed with a shake of his head.
Bobby rolled his eyes. "What, did Ma tell you to say that?"
"Then why can't I smoke in it? I need a fuckin' cigarette every once in a while, and I can't do it in the house, or outside where Ma can see."
"It's made of wood, dumbass," Jerry replied, his tone of voice obviously condemning Bobby's stupidity. "It'll catch on fire."
"I'm not gonna burn your fuckin' treehouse down," Bobby insisted, but Jerry shook his head. "Alright. Whatever. I'm gonna go watch some TV." He pushed himself off of the bed, slapping Jerry's leg. "You wanna come?"
"No," Jerry refused, sliding off of the bed as well and kneeling on the floor again. "I wanna work on the treehouse some more."
"Suit yourself," Bobby said with a shrug, watching as Jerry opened the drawer and pulled out the paper again. He smiled to himself as Jerry scribbled across the page once more, adding details to his already elaborate design.
Within a week, Jerry had the shelter convinced that donating the wood for a treehouse was the best thing for everyone in the neighborhood, considering that "Miss Evelyn is already doing such a service to the community and to the children by making her home available." Within a week and a half, Jerry was hard at work, hurrying along the construction with the threat of fall looming in the distance. He wanted the treehouse to be finished and used at least a couple of times before it was too cold to go outside anymore.
Every afternoon after school, almost every kid from their street and a handful of Jerry's friends were over at the Mercers', Jerry giving directions with ease, promising that every kid would get to use it if they did their share of the building and helped until the very end. Evelyn watched her son with amusement, glad that he had something to which he was so devoted.
"Look at him," Evelyn commented to Bobby one day, looking out the back door at the kids, still hard at work even as the sun was beginning to set. "He's just a little entrepreneur in the making, isn't he?"
Bobby snorted from the kitchen table, tapping his pencil against the blank piece of paper that would eventually become his homework. "Yeah, we got ourselves a real businessman, there. Pretty soon he's gonna break into a speech about teamwork and all that group responsibility crap."
"Oh, Bobby," Evelyn said with a smile, glancing one last time into the back yard before sitting across from Bobby at the table. "Let him be, he's having fun." She watched as his eyes avoided the open Algebra book in front of him, instead wandering around the room absently. "Why don't you go help him? I think he'd really appreciate it."
"Oh yeah, Ma, that sounds like loads of fun," Bobby replied sarcastically. "Just what I wanna do with my time, run around with a bunch of ten year olds."
"He's twelve, Bobby."
"They're not all twelve," Bobby reasoned, shutting his book resolutely and tossing the pencil down, standing up from the table and moving in the direction of the living room.
"And where do you think you're going?"
Bobby shrugged. "Gonna go watch some TV or somethin'."
Evelyn shook her head. "I don't think so. You're either going to do your homework, or you're going to help your brother." As Bobby looked at her in disbelief, she smiled again. "The choice is yours."
Bobby shook his head, heading towards the back door. "You sure don't make things easy."
"That's because I love you, dear," Evelyn explained, patting him on the arm as he walked by. Bobby pushed the back door open, making his way into the late afternoon sunlight, looking for Jerry among the group of children compiled in his back yard. Some of them looked at him warily, some of them hiding behind others so as not to be spotted by the older boy, some of them ignoring him completely.
"Yo, Jerry!" he called, and Jerry's head popped out of the nearly completed treehouse, a silly grin plastered on his face.
"Hey, Bobby!" Jerry replied. "Come on up!"
"Up?" Bobby asked hesitantly. He watched Jerry disappear through the hole that acted as a doorway, then walked slowly over to the ladder that led to the bottom-most limb, where the treehouse had been built. Looking up, he sighed, shaking his head and beginning to climb the ladder. As he reached the top, he saw Jerry and another smaller boy in the treehouse, nailing a couple of boards together.
"Hey there," Bobby said as he lifted himself into the treehouse. The smaller boy stared at him fearfully, and Bobby grinned, raising his eyebrows. "Boo."
"Shut up, Bobby," Jerry mumbled, fishing another nail out of his back pocket as the younger kid backed himself into the corner. He drove the final nail into the board, leaning back on his heels and inspecting his work proudly. "What d'ya think?"
"Very nice, little man," Bobby said, nodding and looking around. "Almost done?"
"Just gotta paint it."
"Paint, hmm? You're goin' all out, here."
Jerry shrugged, still smiling. "Might as well do it big, if I'm gonna do it at all."
Bobby grinned, shoving him sideways so that he fell over onto his knees. "Nice to see that some things I taught you are stickin'. You need some help?"
"Not really, I think I'm goin' inside soon," Jerry said, leaning back against the wall of the treehouse. "Dinner almost ready?"
Bobby shook his head. "I don't think Ma's even started makin' it yet, actually. Hungry?"
"Man, I'm starving!" Jerry exclaimed, placing a hand on his stomach. Bobby laughed, scooting himself closer to the door.
"Go help her get started if you're done for today. I'll help you paint tomorrow, if you want."
"Really?" Jerry asked happily, and when Bobby nodded, grinned even wider. "Thanks, Bobby."
"No problem, kiddo," Bobby said, lowering himself down onto the ladder and inspecting Jerry's appearance. "Actually, go get cleaned up. I'll help Ma with dinner."
"Alright," Jerry agreed, watching Bobby climb down and make his way back to the house. He looked over to the kid in the corner, watching his nervous eyes and skittish movements as he emptied the rest of the nails out of his pocket, and smiled just as Bobby had done, ruffling his hair. "Boo."
"There ya go, all done." Bobby rested a paint covered hand on Jerry's shoulder, watching as Jerry beamed at the finished product before him. "Although, I have no idea in hell why you wanted to paint it green."
"It's perfect," Jerry mumbled, completely content in his work. He crossed his arms over his chest, not able to keep the smile off of his face.
"It's pretty damn good," Bobby agreed. "Too bad you gotta wait 'til tomorrow to use it."
"What?" Jerry asked, suddenly disappointed. "Why?"
"Cause the paint's wet, dumbass," Bobby chuckled, releasing Jerry's shoulder and walking back to the house. Jerry just stood there for a moment, watching the sun set behind his new treehouse, something he'd wanted since he was just a little kid. And I finally got one...
The next day couldn't come soon enough for Jerry, and immediately after school he ran to the back yard, dropping his backpack in the kitchen before Evelyn could say a word about it. He climbed the ladder with excitement, pushing himself up into the treehouse and stretching out in the middle of the floor, resting his hands behind his head. Just what I need, some peace and quiet after all those days spent building this thing.
"Hello? Anybody up there?"
So much for peace and quiet. "Hey, Bobby. Come on up."
Jerry heard the sounds of Bobby climbing the ladder, then felt Bobby push his legs aside as he crawled into the treehouse, leaning back against the wall. "How's it goin'?"
"Good," Jerry said adjusting his position so that he could stretch out along the wall. "Just hangin' out."
"Mmmhmm," Bobby mumbled. "Bored yet?"
"Who said I was bored?" Jerry insisted. "This is nice."
Bobby snorted in amusement. "You're gonna be bored out of your mind with this thing in...two days, tops."
Jerry shook his head adamantly. "No, I won't."
"Whatever." Jerry heard Bobby rustling with something in his pocket, then heard a small scrape and shot up into a sitting position.
"I told you no, Bobby!" Jerry practically yelled as Bobby lit his cigarette, taking a long drag before looking over at Jerry, shrugging.
"Jerry, come on. What's the problem?"
"You're gonna burn it down!" He grabbed at Bobby's wrist, and Bobby yanked his hand away, placing the cigarette out of Jerry's reach.
"No one's gonna burn anything down," Bobby reassured as Jerry scooted forward, trying to grab the cigarette from his hand again. "Hey, knock it off! These goddamn things are expensive, I can't afford to waste one."
"Bobby, stop it!" Jerry was starting to get anxious now, watching the cigarette burn slowly, thinking about the relatively fresh coat of pain and all that wood underneath. "Bobby, come on, please. Put it out. Please."
"You really that concerned about this thing lightin' on fire?" At Jerry's nod, he rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Fine. I'm putting it out, okay?" He took one more drag and flicked it out the doorway. "Happy now?"
Jerry nodded, leaning back against the wall again. He watched Bobby dig in his pockets, feeling his stomach drop as Bobby pulled out his pack of matches, grinning mischievously. "Bobby..."
"What about these?" he asked, opening the matchbook and pulling one out, running it between his fingers. "You want me to throw these out, too?"
"Bobby, come on, stop messin' around," Jerry insisted, trying to sound calm and uncaring, when really the matchbook was making him extremely nervous. "Just put those away."
"What if I do this?" Bobby struck the match, watching it light up as he held it between his thumb and his finger. "You gonna freak out about this?"
"Bobby," Jerry began, then stopped, watching the match burn closer to Bobby's fingers. He waited, eyes locked on the flame that approached Bobby's hand, closer and closer...
"You're no fun," Bobby said, shaking the match in his hand to put it out. However, before anyone could say a word, the match had sailed out of Bobby's hand and into the corner of the treehouse. Within seconds, flames were beginning to crawl up the back wall.
"Shit!" Bobby yelled, grabbing Jerry's arm and pushing him towards the doorway in one frantic movement. "Get down, Jerry!"
"But..." Jerry started, watching the fire begin to engulf the back wall of the treehouse.
"Get down the fucking ladder!" Bobby yelled, leaving no room for debate. Jerry hurried down the ladder, jumping to the ground, unable to tear his eyes away from the burning treehouse. He watched as Bobby slid out of the treehouse, climbing halfway down the ladder before jumping the rest of the way to the ground. "Go inside!"
Bobby darted towards the house, and Jerry followed close behind, insides churning. They burst through the back door, causing Evelyn to jump and look up from the newspaper in her hand. She caught site of the burning treehouse before either Bobby or Jerry could say a word. "Oh my..." She dashed to the phone, dialing 911 and holding the receiver shakily up to her ear. "Hello, I need the fire department here immediately..."
Jerry didn't hear a word of Evelyn's phone conversation after those opening remarks. He wandered back to the door, placing his hands on the glass and watching the treehouse burn, feeling completely helpless. I didn't even get to have it one day. Not one day...
"Jerry." Bobby was behind him, hand hovering awkwardly over his shoulder. "I'm...I'm sorry man..."
"Get away from me!" Jerry yelled suddenly, whirling around and glaring at Bobby. "This is your fault! I hate you!"
And before either Bobby or Evelyn could say another word, he ran into the hallway, pounding up the stairs and slamming the door to his room with a resounding thud.
"So, what do you have to say for yourself?"
Bobby was sitting at the kitchen table, arms folded across the hard surface, eyes looking anywhere but at his mother. The fire department had left a couple of minutes ago, only taking a short amount of time to put out the small fire. Jerry still refused to come out of his room, and Evelyn, who had demanded to hear the whole story, was now looming over Bobby, hands on her hips, glaring down at him with obvious anger.
"Look, I said I was sorry," Bobby mumbled, staring firmly at the table. Evelyn shook her head, giving Bobby a disappointed look.
"Yes, but what is telling me that you're sorry going to help?" she asked. "Is it going to rebuild Jerry's tree house? Is it going to take you back in time and make you think about what you're doing before you actually do it?"
"You're a smart boy, Bobby," Evelyn continued, ignoring Bobby's attempt to answer. "You just do not think. I mean, what possible reasoning could you have for doing something like that?"
"It's not like I did it on purpose," Bobby defended.
"And that makes it better?" Evelyn asked, and when Bobby chose not to answer, began again. "I'm so disappointed in you. You deliberately disobeyed me when I asked you not to smoke, and you completely disrespected your brother's wishes by smoking inside his treehouse."
"I know, Ma. I know. I messed up," Bobby said dejectedly. "But what do you want me to do?"
"I'm not sure yet." Evelyn finally sat down, shaking her head and folding her hands on top of the table. "I'll think of something. Right now, you need to go apologize to Jeremiah."
Bobby nodded, standing up uncertainly and looking towards the stairs. "He's so pissed, he's probably not even gonna let me in his room."
"Well, I suggest you try, anyways," Evelyn demanded, and Bobby headed into the hallway, climbing the stairs and reaching Jerry's room as slowly as he possibly could. He knocked on the door, and when there was no answer, turned the doorknob and let himself in.
Jerry was sitting cross legged on his bed, staring out the window with sad eyes, hands limp in his lap. Bobby felt a pang of guilt rise up in his chest, and crossed the room in a few steps, sitting down next to Jerry, who refused to look at him.
"Hey, kiddo," he said quietly, and Jerry blinked, obviously hearing him and choosing not to answer. "How ya doin'?"
"That's good," Bobby murmured, following to where Jerry's eyes were focused on the window. "What'cha lookin' at?"
"What's left of my treehouse."
Ouch, Bobby thought. Guess I deserved that one.
"Listen, Jerry," he began again, choosing his words carefully before he spoke them. "I'm really sorry about the fire. I honestly didn't think it was gonna burn down."
"Obviously," Jerry said, voice monotone, "you're just a dumbass, then."
"I told you not to do that," Jerry said, turning his head to look at Bobby, voice raised. "I told you, Bobby, and you did it anyways."
"I know," Bobby said as Jerry turned away again. "I know, and I'm sorry, and it was stupid." He paused, watching Jerry's eyes blink rapidly. "Can I make it up to you?"
"Can I kick your ass?" Jerry asked seriously, and Bobby had to put all his effort into holding back a chuckle.
"You could, buddy, but I don't think Ma'll like that too much," Bobby reasoned. "How about I build you another one? That one didn't take too long..." But as Jerry began to shake his head, he stopped talking, looking at his brother, perplexed. "Why not?"
"Because I wanted that one," Jerry explained.
"I'll make one just as good, maybe even better." As Jerry shook his head again, Bobby's brow furrowed in confusion. "What's the difference?"
"Because I wanted that one," Jerry tried again, and at Bobby's obvious confusion, rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. "Because I wanted to work for it and I wanted to build it."
"And you did," Bobby insisted, mentally smiling. Here comes the little hard worker in him. There's no way this kid is only twelve. "You got the wood, and you got the people to build it. So you did what you wanted, right?"
Jerry shrugged. "But I never got to use it."
Bobby grinned, nudging his shoulder. "Hey, like I said, you would've gotten bored with it, anyways. Right?"
"Maybe," Jerry said. "I mean...it was really for the other kids more than me."
Bobby chuckled, throwing an arm around Jerry's shoulder. "Whatever you say, man. Hey," he waited until Jerry looked up at him before speaking again. "It was a pretty cool fire though, wasn't it?"
Jerry tried to hide his smile, pushing himself out from under Bobby's arm. "No," he denied, turning away from Bobby.
"Liar," Bobby said, grinning. "You're such a fuckin' pyro."
"Nothing," Bobby said, standing. "You forgive me, then?"
Jerry shrugged, trying to appear casual. "I guess. I didn't mean it when I said I hated you." He paused, smiling a little. "And I guess the fire was okay."
Bobby laughed loudly, reaching over and grabbing Jerry by the arm, pulling him off of the bed. "Come on, get your blades, let's go play some puck."
"But wait," Jerry said. "What about Ma? Is she mad? Is she gonna punish you?"
Bobby stood still for a minute, thinking, before shrugging and heading down the stairs. "We'll be quiet."
"And if she catches us?"
Bobby smirked. "We'll run."
Okay, so, here are the three new story ideas. If you guys could pick the one you like best and let me know, in a review or an e-mail, which one you want to see, I'd really appreciate it. Thanks!
What Man Has Made of Man: "Why would anybody wanna kill the sweetest woman in the goddamn world?" Jack doesn't understand.
Breathing: "I never should've came home. I never should've came." Bobby thinks about loss and regret.
The Hidden Qualities of Cheap Leather: (from the deleted scenes) "I'll let you wear my jacket." Bobby underestimates the weight of a simple gesture.