Well hey there fanfiction people, there's an explanation as to why this fic is here. It was previously posted on a site known by the name of "Quizilla", but for some crazy reason it was removed along with a whole bunch of other fics I posted on that site. So I'm posting it here (mostly because I don't trust Quizilla in keeping my stuff safe anymore) and for everyone in the MTCPT fandom to enjoy c:
DON'T KNOW WHAT MTCPT IS? It's short for My Two Cents Plus tax! And believe it or not, it's an online webcomic about the craziest most awesome tax collectors in the universe! This hilarious story was brought to life for the amazing Qwchestr and this here fanfiction was a reward for her great works~! Check it out at mtcpt(dot)smackjeeves(dot)com.
Now yes, this is "PART ONE" and YES I still plan to write Part Two! But I haven't exactly gotten around to it, but it will happen mark my words! For now though, Enjoy c: (or re-enjoy if you've already read this xD)
My Two Cents Plus Tax Fan fiction
Amusement Park Tax
Jock Picnicle usually enjoyed his free weekends alone in his apartment/home (I don't know where he lives XD;?). Life was usually full of office work and duty, so free days were rare pleasures that were not to be taken advantage of. And just the same with every other day off he had gotten before, he had planned to take it easy and spend the whole day relaxing.
But that was not what was happening.
Sitting at the table across from the television in the living room, Jock found himself in an uncompromising position. Here he was at home on his day off, yes, but he wasn't here alone. There on his carpet, probably not even two feet away from the electronic television screen, sat his familiar violet-haired, expressionless job partner, Sanders. He sat up attentively, watching the program with an intense gaze as if he was savoring every second of it, and perfectly memorizing the show over in his head so that he could recall it without any error later.
Jock found it absurd. No, the way that Sanders watched television wasn't what bothered him. It was what he watched that did. It was a child's show that starred nothing other than a pink, fluffy rabbit and, for some reason, Sanders found it as entertaining as the next five year old. Jock didn't know what on earth could make a twenty-four year old a fan of such a ridiculous character, but one thing was for sure: Sanders was a couple of ages too old to be watching this. Nevertheless, it appeared he didn't tire of it because the television had been on for at least three hours, and Sanders hadn't bothered to change the channel from the fluffy bunny marathon that was giving on TV. Frankly, Jock was tired of it.
He sighed and inquired loudly, "Why can't you do this in your own house?"
"Hmmm?" Sanders looked taken aback from being interrupted in the concentration of watching his program on the screen.
"I don't see why you have to be here." Jock stated simply, glaring at his partner from his view at the dining table. "I'm sure you have a television back at your place."
"And what if I do?" Sanders replied in a practical monotone manner, completely missing the point of Jock's past statement.
"Then why are you here?" Jock practically exploded.
"…" Sanders appeared to pause in thought, and Jock waited patiently for a good answer. Instead, he said plainly, "Because I want to be."
The blonde banged his head against the edge of the table. He should've expected these kinds of unspecific and simple answers from Sanders by now, but, it appears, he hadn't learned.
"Ow…" he murmured, clutching his forehead as he raised his head back up off the table. 'I really have to stop unintentionally hurting myself…' He made a mental note as he rubbed the hurting spot on his head, and then checked the palm of his hand to make sure he wasn't bleeding. He wasn't now, but 50% of the time during painful incidents, he usually was.
When he looked up, Jock wasn't surprised to see that Sanders had turned his eyes attention back to his program on the television. It was just like him, uncaring and seemingly heartless, that jerk appeared to care less when Jock was suffering from physical pain. For god's sake, most of the time it was his fault that he ended up with such injuries, ex: the stapler incident, being thrown at the TV, even being thrown at a car, and out of all those times, not even once did Jock receive anything so much as a sorry. Talk about consideration.
Frowning, and a bit irritated about being ignored in his own house, Jock got up out of his chair and walked around the couch to where Sanders was sitting on his carpet. The blonde plopped himself down about a foot away from his partner as he grumbled, "Honestly, I get enough of you at work. I don't see why I suddenly have to spend my free weekends with you too."
Sanders stared at him out of the corner of his eyes, his head seeming to be tilted, as if in interest. "Haven't you heard?" he asked.
"Heard what?" Jock now wore a face of bewilderment.
"Co-workers communicate and get along better the more they spend time with each other." Sanders simply stated. "It's called bonding."
"Ha, yeah right." Jock scoffed, arms folding stubbornly across his chest. "It's more like you coming over and stealing my television."
"No, we're bonding." And without warning, Sanders had thrown himself onto his partner, leaning over and pulling him close in a tight embrace, all the while keeping his eyes glued to the screen.
"H-hey…!" Jock exclaimed almost instantly, a fevered blush spreading across his cheeks. "Sanders, this is an invasion of my personal space!"
In response to this, Sanders said nothing, only continued on in watching the TV, ignoring Jock as if he'd said nothing. It only made the blonde feel all the more awkward and furious about the situation he was in.
"Sanders!" he cried. "Are you listening to me? I asked you to let go!"
The sudden sound of a swift object slicing through the air had caught both their ears, and stopped them in their bickering (well, Jock's at least, Sanders was pretty much saying nothing). They were brought to their feet, all previous discussions pushed to the back of their minds as they turned to the task at hand, and that was trying to figure out what had been the source of the noise that they had heard earlier.
Jock made the first move as he cautiously stepped forward on the carpet, his eyes trailing his surroundings as he searched for some sort of giveaway, an object perhaps out of place, or an item in this house that he'd never seen before. He proceeded to the front of the sofa, Sanders simply stood behind him being a supervisor, and the blonde peered over, analyzing the floor and everything that stood before him. And then he saw it: a simple object, a folded up piece of paper in the shape of an airplane that had landed harmlessly sideways against a table leg on the floor.
He frowned as he approached it, and paused before the object at his feet as he went about pondering where and how this had gotten into his house, and almost instantly a wind had blown across his face, the open window seeming to answer his mind's question.
'Must be one of those kids down the block…' Jock thought as he rolled his eyes and bent down to pick it up off the ground.
"It's nothing to worry about Sanders, I found it, it's just a paper airplane… hey it's got something written on it, come loo-" Jock stopped mid-sentence the second he turned around. For some reason, Sanders had moved from where he was standing all the way across the room against a wall adjacent to the hallway. Jock lifted an eyebrow in question, "…Why are you all the way over there?"
His partner simply pointed to his feet. Jock looked down and saw a small box with a red-blinking light that appeared to flash faster with every second that passed. Jock simply stared. It actually took his mind a while before he could process what it was. "Oh crap it's a-!"
The detonator had exploded right there and then, blasting a giant wind full of dust and debris, and the force of it was enough to send Jock propelling through the air, tossing him mercilessly out to window. Luckily there was a bush below him to cushion his fall, although the impact still hurt him a whole lot nonetheless. Looking up at his house, now decorated with a nice touch of smoke, ash, and mass destruction, Jock felt he was watching this all from the stand point of a bad dream, but the way his eyes stung and the aching pain he still felt from hitting the ground reminded him strongly that it wasn't.
"So what did the paper say?" The call of Sander's voice drew Jock out of his state of shock, his eyes following to see his partner leaning out the window, unharmed and unscratched as usual. And even though a detonator had just exploded within the premises of Jock's own house, he was continuing a conversation as if nothing had happened…
"Sanders!" Jock practically screamed at the top of his lungs.
"Did you even notice what just happened?" His face was still expressing that of shock, his jaw practically dropping to the ground.
"Yeah, a detonator was just set off in your house, I know, that's why I let you go retrieve the paper." He explained simply, his voice not even so much as wavering.
"If there was an explosive in my house that you saw coming long before I even did, why didn't you tell me about it?"
"Because you didn't ask."
"It doesn't matter if I didn't ask! I could have died!"
"You wouldn't have died."
"And how would you know that?"
"Because you wouldn't have," he recited. "You're just naturally accident prone Jock, and, so far from what I've seen, you never die because of it."
Jock frowned, resisting the urge to get off topic to point out that half of the time those "accident prone incidents" were usually his fault. Instead he pushed it out of his mind, deciding to let it go, and continued the rest of this conversation calmly. "So, okay, let's say today I was unlucky, and I just happened to die then, wouldn't you care?"
Jock flailed his arms, trying to resist the urge to scream. "Then, doesn't that mean you should be protecting me instead of using me as the guinea pig so that I don't die?"
"You're not going to die Jock."
"How DO you know?"
"Like I said, you're accident pr-"
"Don't repeat yourself! I heard the first time!" The blonde snapped, only just realizing that this conversation was relapsing, or rather just tracing itself in circles. It was purely frustrating and nerve wracking.
"Ugh, I swear Sanders, you are such a jerk!" It was all Jock could say to express his emotions as he gathered himself up off the ground, and marched away with an enraged attitude.
And all Sanders did was stare, seemingly emotionless, from the window, but secretly amused as usual by yet another one of Jock's many set of reactions.