Quick Note: Alright you guys, this is a little treat I wanted to give you all ever since I started Final Salvation! You earned it, and you're gonna love it! Get ready to read the longest yet probably one of the most enjoyable two-shots out there! Best of all, it's on MADNESS COMBAT!
You ready? I don't care if you said no, because LET'S DO THIS SHIT!
Spirit9871 proudly presents:
Hank J. Wimbleton was a father of a bright young boy, Damion Wimbleton, and husband to his beautiful wife, Cathy Richards. He was a content man who lived a content life after all the hardships he went through from childhood to his final salvation. Some days, he would hate being a parent, and wish he could've just died back then. On other days, he would think that he was the luckiest man on Earth to finally achieve happiness even after all the bloodshed he had to go through.
Unfortunately for Hank, this wasn't one of those good days.
Hank began putting his clothes on after taking a shower. He sprayed some cologne on himself, pocketed his car keys, and sighed. Every year, there is a certain time when Cathy would have "shopping fever", where she would drag him to the huge mall far down town to spend almost the whole day buying clothes and other useless crap. After she stocked up on coupons and with the knowledge that stores around Nevada were having sales due to the season, Cathy too, was getting herself ready for the large shopping spree she was about to torture Hank with. However, there was something that the both of them knew they had to take care of first.
The youth had very recently turned five, and was reaching the point where he would make A LOT of noise. For the first four years of his life, Damion had been much like Hank; quiet and self-controlled. But, unlike his father, he had parents, and that had ultimately led to his energetic behavior. So, if they wanted to get to the mall, they couldn't bring Damion with them, or risk getting thrown out.
And that's exactly why Hank had called upon Sanford and Deimos on this special occasion.
Hank heard the bell ring and walked up to the front door. Opening it, he saw his two closest friends staring right at his face, who were about to be trusted with probably the biggest responsibility he had given anyone.
"Come in." Hank welcomed. Sanford and Deimos complied to his invite and saw Damion playing with some action-figures on the floor. Damion saw the two of them enter the living room and ran up to them.
"Uncle Sanford and Uncle Deimos are here!" he shouted in glee.
Sanford rubbed Damion's hair playfully in response while Deimos returned back the hug. Damion glanced at his father's comrades one last time before running back to his toys.
Sanford scratched his head. "Damn. The kid's been doing the same thing to us ever since he was three."
Deimos chuckled in agreement. Hank cleared his throat to get their attention.
"Ahem. You both might be wondering why I called you here."
Both men turned to Hank, wanting to know the answer to that exact question. All Hank told them on the phone was that he needed them to come over for something important.
"Go on." Deimos urged him.
"Well, you see, Cathy has 'shopping fever' again, and we sorta don't have anyone to look after Damion this morning, so you two were my last-minute option." Hank finished.
Sanford looked at Hank quizzically. "Why not call a babysitter to look after the kid instead of us? We have plans you know."
Hank narrowed his eyes to Sanford. "Oh yeah. Brilliant idea Sanford. Get some random stranger to look after my only child. Hell, for all I know, it could be the pedophile down the street watching over his ass."
Deimos snickered as Sanford rose up his hands defensively. "Hey man, just saying. No need to get pissed."
Hank sighed. "Sorry. You know how women are when it comes to shopping."
Sanford and Deimos turned pale, remembering their own wives forcing them into the same exact thing Hank was in right now.
Deimos shook his head. "God...my arms were sore for weeks from holding all those goddamn shopping bags..."
Sanford turned to Deimos. "Not to mention, arguing about what we do and don't need. I mean, come on, nobody needs a ten-knife set to make fucking dinner!"
Hank frowned. "Gee guys! Thanks! That makes me feel A LOT better!"
Deimos put a hand on Hank's shoulder to comfort him. "Hank, I'm so sorry for what you're gonna have to do now."
Okay, Hank had to admit, that did help.
"But listen, if you somehow die from shopping, can I have your lava-lamp?" Deimos asked innocently.
Now Hank was just as upset as before.
Hank did a face-palm. "Whatever Deimos!"
Deimos made a wide grin. "Sweet!"
Hank rolled his eyes. "Listen, we'll be gone for probably the next few hours, so I'm counting on you two to take care of him for me, okay?"
Deimos nodded, but Sanford crossed his arms.
"What's in it for us if we do this for you?" he questioned. Deimos also realized that there should be a prize at hand as well, and turned to Hank.
Hank looked at the two of them and angrily sighed. "Alright, fine. If you two do this right, you both get a hundred bucks from me. Each."
Sanford and Deimos lit up when they heard that. There was pretty good money on the line.
Now, Sanford smirked in agreement. "That sounds just about right."
Cathy walked out of her bedroom and presented herself to the trio. Sanford and Deimos's jaws dropped.
Who knew so much make-up could make someone look so HOT!
Deimos turned to Sanford and glanced down at his pants. He grinned.
"Take it easy Sanford. You do have a wife after all!" Deimos joked.
Sanford looked at where Deimos was staring and turned red. He straightened his shirt out.
"You retard! It was just a wrinkle!" Sanford defended.
Hank ignored the two of them and walked up to Cathy, who gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"You ready to go?" she asked him.
Hank nodded and faced Sanford and Deimos again. "Remember. Don't mess this up."
Sanford waved Hank away. "Yeah, yeah, Hank, we got it. Just do what you gotta do man."
Hank followed Cathy who was already walking out of the front door. One final thought came up to his head before he made his exit.
"By the way, make sure neither of you curse in front of Damion. That kid picks up new words like a vacuum cleaner picks up dust. So if I hear one new bad word from him, and I mean one, YOU'RE BOTH GOING TO GET YOUR ASSES WHIPPED PERSONALLY BY HANK J. WIMBLETON. UNDERSTAND?"
Sanford and Deimos gulped, knowing that Hank was a man of his word, but agreed to his terms.
"Good." Hank confirmed. Then, he gave Deimos a list. Deimos stared at what Hank just tossed in his hands.
"It's a list of DO's and DON'Ts you two have to follow. Make sure you read it, cause you're gonna have trouble taking care of Damion without it."
Sanford was dumbfounded at how much Hank had written on the long roll of paper he gave Deimos.
Deimos rolled up the list and put it into his pocket. "Alrighty then."
Hank suddenly sighed. "That's great. I'll see you guys later. Looks like hell's waiting for me. Christoff, I have no idea which is scarier; Tricky the Clown in his demon-form, or watching Cathy fight over a dress on half-price with some other bitch..."
Deimos smiled. "But hey, look at the bright side! You're gonna get laid when you come back home for doing this Hank!"
Even with his mask, the heat emanating from his face was clearly visible. "Just shut up and take care of my son Deimos!"
Hank slammed the door behind him, leaving Deimos laughing.
"Oh man Sanford! Did you see the look on his face? PRICELESS, I TELL YOU!"
Sanford shook his head, knowing that it was pretty funny, but didn't want to show it. He looked back at Damion, who was still using his playthings as if nothing had happened. Sanford was pretty surprised. The kid was handling the whole situation better than most other children his age would.
Not knowing what to do next, Sanford plopped himself down on the couch and pulled out a random book Hank kept on a shelf near the TV. Deimos stood there, waiting for Sanford to do something with Damion. After a few minutes of dead silence, Deimos finally spoke up.
"Well?" he asked with emphasis.
Sanford looked back up at Deimos. "Well?" he repeated, wanting to know why the hell he was just standing there.
"Aren't you going to do something with the kid? In fact, do you even know what to do right now?" Deimos asked, disbelieving Sanford's negligence as a caretaker.
Sanford shrugged. "I don't know. I'd just throw some Cheerios at him. That's what kids his age eat, right?"
Deimos blinked. "Wait a sec, are you freaking serious? How can you even THINK of making a child when you don't even know how to raise one?"
Sanford looked back down at his book again. "I'll find my way. You know that I always do."
"Sanford..." Deimos trailed, trying to make his point.
Sanford sighed and shut his book. "Fine! I'll play with him!"
Leaving the novel back on the couch, Sanford went down on the floor on one knee to Damion's height. Damion looked at his "uncle", interested in what he was about to do or say.
Sanford turned to Deimos, who waved him to go on. Sanford scratched his head.
"Um...so...is there anything you want to do?" he asked awkwardly.
Damion straightened himself up. "Choc-choc!"
"Choc-choc? The hell is a choc-choc?" Sanford asked Deimos.
Deimos, not having any idea himself, pulled out Hank's list. He was stunned at the fact that the definition for "choc-choc" was the first one on there.
"Rule 1: When Damion says 'choc-choc', he means chocolate milk."
Deimos looked back up at Sanford. "Hank apparently says he wants chocolate milk."
Sanford stared at Deimos in complete and utter disbelief, but then turned back to Damion. He sighed.
"Alright fine. I'll go make you a glass." Sanford muttered. Damion grinned and followed him into the kitchen, while Deimos sat down on the couch beneath him, his eyes still glued on Hank's list. If they couldn't figure out something as simple as that, then it looks like Hank was right. They're gonna need this to help them out.
Sanford pulled out a gallon of milk. Strangely enough, there was another spare gallon in the fridge.
'Huh...looks like Hank really needs his calcium...' Sanford thought to himself.
Realizing that he had to take care of Damion instead of stare at Hank's fridge, he shut the door before any of the food inside would rot, and placed the large container of milk onto the counter. Sanford took a wild guess and checked inside a pantry for any chocolate syrup. Sure enough, he found FIVE bottles of the substance and pulled them out, shaking his head. If they needed this much food to fill them up, then how the hell are they still not fat?
Sanford got out the two final necessary components he needed: a spoon, and of course, a glass. After laying all the materials in front of him, he poured in some milk into one glass, some chocolate, and mixed it all together with a spoon.
"Hey Damion, do you want a little or a lo-"
Sanford stopped when he realized he was talking to himself and Damion was back at the living room playing with Deimos. He clenched his fists.
'That little ungrateful fucker...'
Deimos began shaking the miniature man in his right hand. Even though he noticed that Damion and him were holding small army commandos in their possessions, he still had no idea who the hell he was holding or what he was doing. But Damion seemed to be enjoying it, so he supposed that it didn't really matter.
Damion moved the gun in his soldier's hands up and down. "Bang! Bang!" he yelled out to make sound effects.
Deimos realized what was going on and dropped his own figure slowly onto its back. "Oh no! You got me!" he said in the friendliest tone he could.
Damion grinned wildly when Deimos played along with him and ran back into the kitchen. Sanford glanced at Damion and walked towards him.
"Here." he said a bit too coldly as he gave Damion his drink. Damion took no notice of Sanford's tone and took a quick sip from the glass. He gave it back after drinking barely nothing to Sanford, who was confused on why Damion didn't finish it all off.
Damion shook his head childishly. "You did it wrong!"
"Wrong? How the heck do you screw up on making chocolate milk?" Sanford questioned.
"Again!" Damion said, ignoring Sanford's comment completely.
Sanford looked at the child with disgust. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. There's no way I'm doing this again!"
Deimos overheard their conversation and jumped in. "He's right Damion. It's a waste to throw away good food just like that."
Damion turned to the both of them and smiled. "Daddy's not going to give you money if you don't listen to me!"
The two grown men gaped. The kid was smart; he pretended not to hear Hank, Sanford, and Deimos's proposal, and used it to his advantage.
Deimos looked back up to Sanford. "...You might wanna make the kid another glass dude..."
Sanford shook his head slowly, his mouth still wide open. He turned back to the counter with an angry expression that would scare the crap out of anyone.
"Fucking spoiled brat..." he muttered quietly to himself. At that moment, Sanford realized why Hank had two gallons of milk. It was because it would take probably ten glasses to satisfy the kid so he could just shut up.
Suddenly, Damion ran to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of ketchup. Sanford and Deimos watched him, wondering what in the world he was doing. Then, Damion dashed back to the living room and opened the cap. He poured almost the whole bottle out on the action-figure Deimos was holding a few seconds ago, and watched as the condiment spread onto the carpet.
Now, the duo's eyes widened at Damion's action. Deimos clutched the two sides of his head, grasping hair upwards to the point where his hat fell off.
"What are you doing!?" Deimos shouted at Damion.
Damion looked at Deimos with that same grin he used over and over again.
"He's bleeding. And he died." Damion simply responded.
Sanford and Deimos froze in their tracks. The only thing moving in their bodies were their pupils following Damion running off to the bathroom. Sanford gritted his teeth while Deimos picked his hat back up and placed it on himself.
"That son of a bitch just blackmailed us and spilled ketchup all over the goddamn carpet!" Sanford told Deimos.
Deimos frowned and pulled out his list again. He scrolled down and did a face-palm as he read what he was looking for out loud.
"Rule 12: MOVE THE KETCHUP BOTTLE OUT OF DAMION'S REACH."
Sanford glared at Deimos. "You couldn't just read the list BEFORE you played with him, could you?"
"Well how the hell am I supposed to figure out Damion spills ketchup all over the floor!?" Deimos hollered back defensively.
Sanford grunted, still irritated. Deimos used a paper towel and cleaned the stain Damion left behind. After being confident that Hank and Cathy would never know about their slip-up, he stood back up and threw out the sheet of cleaning paper. Deimos looked back at the counter and was shocked to see five glasses of chocolate milk near Sanford (who was breathing heavily in tiredness from the tedious mixing process he had to repeat).
"Jebus Christ Sanford...you over-killed it!" Deimos told him.
Sanford glanced at Deimos. "I don't want him to be unsatisfied when he gets his ass back in here!"
Deimos sighed and saw Damion happily skipping into the kitchen. Sanford and Deimos watched him carefully; expecting the unexpected. Damion looked at the glasses lined up in front of Sanford and walked towards them. Sanford stepped out of his way and gave him one. He looked back at Deimos.
"You know...Damion was in there for a bit too long...don'tcha think?" Sanford questioned suspiciously.
Deimos gulped, not wanting to see what Damion had set for him. He mustered up his courage, knowing that he had no choice.
"I'll go take a look..." he replied glumly.
Deimos walked down the hallway to the bathroom. He opened the list up once more and scanned all the rules for anything he had to look out for in the bathroom. There was only one line written about it:
"Rule 27: Do not, and I mean, DO NOT, let your mouth hang open when you look up at the bathroom ceiling after Damion uses the toilet. He's still...potty training."
Deimos blinked with a quizzical look on his face. "Potty training at five? Wow. Just wow."
Taking a deep breath, he slowly went in. Deimos looked around. Everything seemed clean on the floor, but Deimos was met with probably the worst odor that had ever entered his nose. Deimos looked into the toilet lid. It seemed like Damion at least knew how to flush the toilet after using it, but he wanted to know where that god-awful smell was coming from. After looking around and scratching his head, Deimos suddenly saw a brown droplet hit the ground. Remembering Hank's warning, he looked up. His eyes widened.
If a mound of crap stuck on the ceiling didn't scare a man, then nothing else will.
Deimos stared at the large brown glop right above his head. He had no idea how Damion had even managed to put all that human waste there, but (and this thought made him cringe), he had no idea how he was going to take it all off. It was probably the most damned thing he had ever let his eyes rest upon, next to Tricky The Clown.
Suddenly, Deimos noticed the big pile started shifting at his head. Deimos's eyes stretched even wider than they were before.
"Oh fuck..." he whimpered as the heap came down.
Sanford saw Damion go for the fifth glass of milk. After taking a little sip from each, he looked up at Sanford and grinned.
"I don't like any of them." he answered.
Sanford suddenly felt something snap at the back of his head. He flared his teeth fearsomely at Damion.
"Look you rotten punk! I ain't taking anymore of this crap! You want chocolate milk? Make it yourself! Screw this! I'm a trained combatant for God's sake! NOT A CHOCOLATE MILK MACHINE!" Sanford yelled, almost screaming.
An awkward silence made the two of them pause momentarily. Then, Sanford saw Damion's face cringe. Sanford's eyes widened. Even if he wouldn't get his cash, then he'll find Hank's fist in his skull.
Sanford shook his hands rapidly. "No, no, no, no, no! I didn't mean that! Don't cry Damion! Please? For Uncle Sanford?"
Damion looked down and started making a strange noise that sounded nothing like crying. Just before Sanford could do anything about it, Damion shot back up laughing, putting Sanford into a stupefied state.
"You're funny Uncle Sanford!" he yelled out happily as he went back to the living room, leaving the five almost-full glasses of milk and Sanford behind. Sanford stared at Hank's son expressionlessly, now aware of how incredibly tiresome it would be to care for him in the next few hours.
"Un-Fucking-Believable..." he said in a slow pace.
Sanford threw out the milk inside each glass, upset that he had wasted so much energy for nothing. As he held the last cup in his left hand, he heard Deimos scream like never before, making him smash the glass and scattering all the debris onto his palm, cutting himself.
"HNNNNNGGGGGG!" Sanford growled as he bit his lip down intensely, trying not to curse since he was in front of Damion.
Sanford looked at his injuries. He was bleeding heavily, and his whole hand turned red from blood.
Damion saw this and ran back to Sanford. "Are you okay uncle?"
'At least the kid cares for me...' Sanford thought to himself.
Sanford nodded, exhaling. "Yeah...just a couple of cuts, nothing big."
Damion jumped up when he heard that. "You can use the bandages we have in the shelf behind you!"
"Yeah, yeah, but I think I need PEROXIDE right now, not a bandage..." Sanford told Damion in a hoarse whisper. Then, he looked back at the direction of the bathroom again, where Deimos was still hollering.
"What the hell is that idiot doing!?" Sanford shouted as he stormed towards Deimos. Sanford burst open the door, almost knocking it off its hinges.
"Deimos! You made me smash-"
Sanford never finished that sentence when he saw Deimos's face covered in...well...you know what...Instead, he turned green, almost ready to throw up as the bottom of his mouth hit the floor.
"HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" Sanford yelled.
"GET IT OFF ME SANFORD! GET IT OFF! IT'S ALL OVER MY FACE!" Deimos screamed.
Damion watched this all unfold from the living room. Eventually getting bored of watching his two uncles getting tortured, he pulled out a video from the cabinet nearby. It was "The Ring".
He stuck the tape into the TV and watched as the horror movie started itself up.