A/N: My first Boondock Saints ff. Just to warn you, this is pretty bad but it was loads of fun to write. Rated T for the language. Also, I do not own Boondock Saints. Please read and review!

"Cotton candy? You've got to be kiddin' me, brother," Connor MacManus squinted at his brother, "Since when do I ever eat cotton candy ice cream?"

"I dunno," Murphy shrugged, "be grateful I got you ice cream in the first place."

"You know I only like mint chocolate chip," Connor pouted, staring at the bright blue cardboard container Murphy was holding on to.

"But it's cotton candy."

"I know."

"So, it's yummy!"

"The fuck is wrong with you? Did the store have my fucking mint chocolate chip ice cream like I asked?"

"…maybe…"

"So then why the fuck did you get cotton candy?"

"Because I wanted cotton candy…"

"You selfish bastard," Connor stood from the couch, "That does it. I'll go out and buy my own fucking ice cream."

"But it's…it's like a carnival…in your mouth."

Connor squinted at him, "What the fuck are you takin'?"

"Nothin'," Murphy grabbed a spoon and began stuffing his face with the blue ice cream, "Sure you don't want some?"

"No thank you," Connor grabbed his coat, "I am going to get my own ice cream since someone can't fucking handle the one thing I ask him to do all fucking day."

"But it's like a carnival…"

"Don't fucking finish that sentence," Connor held up a hand, "I'll be right back. Don't spill that disgusting blue shit all over the place."

"Aye," Murphy agreed.

"Sheesh," Connor slammed the door shut behind him, "gotta do everything my damn self."

Connor returned not too much later with a pack of cigarettes and his mint chocolate chip ice cream. When he opened the door to the apartment, he found puddles of blue gunk all over the floor.

"The fuck…Murph? Murph, where the fuck are you?"

Murphy appeared with blue goop all over his face and hands.

"The fuck happened in here?" Connor demanded, "Did a fucking smurf just explode, or what?"

"I might have sort of ate the whole thing of ice cream," Murphy wiped his hands on his black turtle-neck.

"The whole thing?" Connor's eyes were about to pop out of his skull, "The hell is wrong with you?"

"The hell is wrong with YOU," Murphy replied accusingly, "You're the sick-fuck who doesn't like cotton candy ice cream?"

"Sheesh, Murph…" Connor shook his head as he stared down at some of the puddles of melted blue ice cream, "Just clean this the fuck up before one of us slips in it."

Murphy cursed before retrieving a towel and beginning to mop up his mess.

"Now, just sit down and shut up and let me eat my mint chocolate chip ice cream in peace and quiet, will ya?"

Murphy agreed and the twins sat down on the couch together. Connor propped his feet up on the coffee table and began to devour his ice cream.

"It looks like green slime."

"Shut up, Murph. What part of let me eat in peace didn't you comprehend, brother?"

"Just sayin', it looks like green slime. Or nuclear waste…"

"And your fucking carnival-in-your-mouth didn't?" Connor shook his head.

"It looks like puke."

"Christ," Connor threw his head back in frustration, "Can't you let a guy eat his fucking ice cream in peace?"

"Nope," Murphy grinned, "enjoy that bowl of puke of yours."

"Shut the hell up."

"Puke or boogers…"

"Shut the fuck up, Murph."

"You're the one eatin' bodily fluids over there…"


"Damn it, Connor," Murphy rubbed the towel through his damp hair.

"What?" Connor asked, innocently.

"Who the fuck throws a bowl of ice cream on a guy's head?"

"One that's been driven insane by his own twin," Connor grinned, mischievously.