"Hey, Skwisgaar?"

"What yous wantinks, Toki?"




"Speaks de Queen's Englishes, please."

"Dos yous know who yous daddy is?"

"…Why yous ask me dis?"


"Yous know what kinds of slut mys mom was! I don'ts knows who my dad is!"


"And I nots wants to knows eithers! He probably huge dildos to sleeps with my moms like dat anyways."

"So…if someone knew…"

"I wouldn'ts care, Toki." He nodded, giving him a curious look for a moment as he tilted his head to one side.

"Why yous asks me dis?"

"Just wonderings is all…"

Rolling his eyes, Skwisgaar set his guitar down and walked up to him, giving him a light kiss on the forehead.

"What I needs de family for when I gots yous and Pickle, eh? I don'ts needs nobodies else!"

"Whatever yous say, Skwisgaar." Toki said with a shrug. "I going to go and see Pickle for a liddle bit okays?"

"Come back laters?"


Shutting the door behind him, Toki sighed and bowed his head miserably as he took out a letter and an old picture out of his back pocket.

"Sorry, Master." He said to the photo of a young Dimneld Selftcark standing with an arm around a young Serveta Skwigelf's hips.

"Skwisgaar don'ts wants to knows yous right nows…but Is sure he wants to knows yous soon enoughs, okays?"

The photo was silent of course; being nothing but a photo, and Toki sighed and nodded to himself as he slipped it back into his pocket before taking out another letter and photo of two brothers; one older than the other by a few years and holding his younger brother on his shoulders proudly.

"Let's see if Pickle want to bes forgiving yous, Seth."





"He really…!"




"Yous being unrationals!"


"I gives yous really cool blowjob?"


"Let yous fuck me raw?"


"Dos my hair like Bullet?"




"Dammit, Pickle!"


"Just look what he wrote!"


Stomping his foot on the ground, Toki pouted and threw the picture and letter at him.

"Skwisgaar not want to know his dad and yous not want to forgive yous brother! Yous both dummy heads and don't be thinkings yous getting any sex from mes tonights, mister!" he huffed, storming out of the room and going to his own to go and build some model planes.

Shrugging his shoulders, Pickles tore up the letter and threw it in the trash.

The photo he slid under his mattress for safe keeping.