Title: Oh, Look, Donut Seeds!
Author: Black Fire (weird_katharine)
Summery: Skwisgaar attempts to play a trick on Toki.
Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable ideas or characters.
Toki and Skwisgaar were in one of the smaller wings of the kitchen that was reserved mostly for snacks and beer. They were rummaging around in the cabinets and fridge and amusing themselves by complaining about there not being any food. Then Skwisgaar noticed a box of cereal that someone had left tipped over on the counter and had an evil idea. Could he really get Toki to do it? Of course he could. He could probably get Toki to do anything.
"Oh, look, Toki, donuts seeds!" He said with badly feigned excitement.
Toki emerged from the fridge and picked up the box. "It says Metal Ohs? Metal Oooooooos?"
"That ams the name of the donut farm what ams comes from. Metal Ooooooooos Farms." Toki should have known better than to believe that helpful, cheerful tone of voice, but he was too trusting and curious.
He held a piece of cereal up close to his face, looking at it thoughtfully. "So you plants dis little crunchy thing, and you gets a whole bunch of donuts? Dats great!"
Skwisgaar chuckled. "Oh, ja. You plants dem, and you waters dem real good, and you gives dem de fertilizer, and you gets a donuts . . . tree."
"My very own donut tree!" Toki said to himself, his imagination completely captured. "I'm going to go and plants it right now!
Toki went out to a garden center that afternoon and bought a kick-ass cast iron planter with spikes on it. He found a employee who was both star-struck and apathetic enough to sell him a bag of "special donut fertilizer", without snickering at him too much. He buried the cereal, watered the dirt whenever it looked dry, and started carrying the pot around with him everywhere so he could check it for signs of life.
Nathan finely noticed a couple of days later, while they were in the hot tub.
"Hey, Toki. Why are you carrying around a bunch of dirt? Are you gonna . . . uh . . . bury something?"
"Already did. These are my donut seeds planter. Skwisgaar gives them to me."
There was an explosion of gasping, snorting sounds as Pickle inhaled half his drink and then burst into screaming laughter. He almost sank into the the hot tub.
Nathan started laughing too. "Donut seeds? That's a good one, Skwisgaar.
"Hey Toki. Heh, heh. Forget about Skwisgaar. I'll give you the recipe for ice cubes."
"No thanks. I likes donuts better."
"Oh. Well, okay then."
"You probably want to go get a job at an M&M factory . . . " Murderface paused, losing his train of though, "Because your momma's so fat!"
Toki looked at him, confused. "No she's not. Yous seen her."
Murderface frowned. "Well . . . you're ugly!"
"We awta bury him. Grow some dope." Pickles grinned, very pleased with himself.
"Ja. Next he will be planting a dildos tree!"
There was a moment of awkward silence as everyone considered that mental image.
"Okay then, have fun with that," Nathan said, already board with making fun of Toki. "Just don't get any dirt in the water, and don't let that thing get in the way of practice."
"Skwisgaar, you has to help me! The donut seeds aren'ts growing."
Now practical jokes were usually not Skwisgaar's style, because they required him to remember he was involved in them. A constant barrage of insults was more suited to his attention span.
"Whats! Toki, yous been spending to much times alone with the modelings glue. There is no such things as donut seeds."
"Yes there is! You gives them to me, and I plants them, and I waters them, but they don't grow."
"Well," Skwisgaar drawled, vaguely remembering teasing Toki about the Metal Os, "Is just cus you's a terrible donut farmer."
"I am not! I follow your directions spastisticaly. Yous a terrible donut farmer!"
"No, now I's remembering. I sees a show on the discovery channel. Plants ams whats you call senskative to crappy music. They probably hear your dildos guitar playing and die!"
"No!" Toki shrieked, clutching the planter to his chest. "I shows you! I can make them grow! I grows the best donuts ever, and yous don't get any!" Then he dashed from the room.
Toki had been playing his guitar in the studio for over an hour when Charles walked in. He had heard the sound of unscheduled practice and decided to see what was going on.
"Toki, you're practicing without the other members of the band. That's unusual. And . . . admirable. Good job."
"Thanks. I gots to play better to make the donut tree grow."
"Donut tree? So your high right now?"
"Nope! Skwisgaar gives me the seeds, I plants them, and if I plays good enough, they grows me a donut tree. Maybe they not teach you about that at manager's school."
"No, they did not. Working with you all has taught me a lot of things they didn't."
"Ja, that blows," Toki said turning back to his guitar. "I gots to get back to work. Sees you later."
Charles was like his band in one way. He liked to think he didn't care. But he didn't like to see Toki get picked on too much, and Skwisgaar had been giving him a lot of grief lately. As he left, he decided he would go pay a visit to Jean-Pierre.
Mord Haus's huge kitchen was fairly busy at this time of day. Bloodtricuted was blasting from speakers perched on a shelf near the high ceiling, almost drowning out the clash of pots and pans and the roaring hiss of food hitting hot oil. Half a dozen klokateers were doing prep work. (You haven't lived until you've seen a man in an executioners hood diligently making radish rosettes.) Jean- Pierre was at the central butcher block, up to his elbows in brains, kidneys, livers, and marrow bones. Tonight was organ meat night, although Murderface got upset if you called it that.
"Good afternoon, Mr Ofdensen. What bringsh you to my kitchen?"
"Well, I was hoping you could help me with something. Have you notice that Toki has been carrying around a large pot of dirt lately?"
"Well, it has to do with that. You see, he's growing donuts"
Jean-Pierre looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "Sir," he said tactfully, "it doesh not work that way. Maybe they did not teach that in business school?"
" Ah, well, yes. Anyway, he's growing donuts . . . with seeds Skwisgaar gave him."
"Oh. I think I see," he said, reflectively sharpening his carving knife.
"At any rate, he's not having much luck. I was hoping you could give him some help. Share your . . . horticultural expertise."
"That ish an excellent idea!" Jean-Pierre's face lit up (like a burning castle in a horror movie) with excitement at the thought of his new project. "I'm sure that will make Toki very happy."
"I was especially hoping you could keep it a secret."
"Oh, it goesh without saying," He agreed. "You were right to come to me. Merci!"
He picked up a lump of shiny, maroon-colored meat from the cutting board and shouted over the noise, "Eh, Number 834! Sauté some of thees for Mr. Ofdensen before he goesh!"
"Oh, no, that won't be necessary." Charles held out his hands. "I have a lunch meeting with the lable later . . ."
"Nonsense. You let me know of a something I can do to serve my mastersh. How could I let you go without some decent food?"
Charles glared at him, but it is not easy to intimidate someone who has been shreadded by a helicopter. Jean Pier just stared back expectantly.
"Well, all right then."
The next day Toki dashed into the main room squealing with glee. "Lookits everyone! Suck on dat Skwisgaar! I gots me a donut tree!"
He held out his familiar cast iron planter at arms length. Sprouting out of it was a ferociously vibrant, tropical-looking tree. Its leaves were encrusted with glittering sugar crystals and dozens of delicious-smelling donuts hung from the branches.
"Noooo!" Skwisgaar wailed, "That's unpossible!"
"Oh, no way!" Nathan shouted. He could hardly believe what he was seeing either, but he was a lot less invested in the joke than Skwisgaar. He and the others hurried over to get a closer look at the plant. Skwisgaar on the other hand just stood there completely overwhelmed, eyes almost crossed with shock and outrage.
Pickles had woken up this morning and decided it was a pot kind of day. So he was in the right frame of mind to believe all this unquestioningly, and to find the idea of a pastry tree very appealing.
"Oh, dood, Toki, you gatta do one fer me! I think I've gat half a cinnamon bun in my room somewhere!"
He grabbed a donut, took a big bite, and ran off giggling with his mouth full.
"Hey! Dems my donut tree! Come back here! I blast your ass full of rock salt!"
"And I'm gonna plant a hot dog tr. . . a schevered head! Grow a dead body. To schtab!"
"But we gots tons of dead bodies. You can go stabs them now."
"Yeah, but thish one will be mine." With that Murderface stomped out of the room.
"Wow," Nathan said. "We were all kind of screwing with you. I thought you were just being a jackass. I guess I was wrong. I mean, I can't cook. How the hell am I supposed to know where they get donuts from?" He shrugged and also walked away.
That just left Skwisgaar, standing there like a lamp post, occasionally twitching in rage, confusion, and disbelief. This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen! It was a joke! It was one of the many, many things he knew more about than Toki, and Toki was a stupid baby for believing him! But the plant in the pot sure as hell didn't look like any tree he'd ever seen, and it obviously had donuts on it. It had to be real! Which meant he was stupid for not knowing about donut seeds.
Toki was oblivious to the havoc he had wreaked. He patted Skwisgaar on the shoulder. "Wowee, that was a fun gardens project you shows me. I lies before." He smiled sweetly. "You can haves a donut after all!"
He picked one off the plant and tried to put it in Skwisgaar's limp hand. It hit the floor with a soft plop.
"'Bye!" He waved and scampered out of the room, just in time to miss an explosion of Swedish cursing.