DIAMONDS DROOG: BE THE FATHER
This is an utterly ridiculous idea. You, the father. Absurd.
You are Diamonds Droog. You are the brains behind, if not the face of, the most notorious gang in town known as the Midnight Crew. Unlike the rest of your gang, which is mostly comprised of VIOLENT MORONS you behave in a more ...casual fashion. You enjoy staying in style and keeping your many suits clean while BLUDGEONING RIVAL GANG MEMBERS with your TRUSTY CUESTICK. You also have a certain fondness for SWEDISH FISH and MONOCHROMATIC LADIES, though this you would never reveal to anyone. You are overall quite a distinguished man, and would never waste your time on something to ridiculous and mind-numbing as "being the father."
However, due to circumstances no longer under your control, you will consent to being the custodian
It was Boxcars, of course, who found the grubs hidden away in some godforsaken dumpster somewhere. Despite his large size and ferocious...appetite, for violence, you maintain that Hearts Boxcars is inherently too soft at heart. The large idiot had appeared at the hideout a few days ago bearing four wriggling, disgusting insect like "grubs" which are apparently infant trolls, a species you have had no previous interaction with, which was fine by you. Frankly, you find them to be overly violent, messy and irritating.
Boxcars however was adamant that the grubs needed homes, needed to be looked after.
"Just look at 'em, helpless little brats" he said, thrusting a bright red one into your face. You drew back, revolted by the screams it was making. The bright red one was your least favourite, you decided. It was easily the loudest and most annoying of the four.
"Can't just leave 'em to fend for themselves" Boxcars continued, attempting to pacify the screaming wriggler. Deuce agreed with him (though he later forgot about the issue entirely and nearly stepped on the grubs) but you and Slick did not. Running a casino/gang was not something you did while raising an alien child. Being Spades Slick and Diamonds Droog was also not something you did while raising a child. Frankly, you were surprised Boxcars had even brought it up around Slick. You were sure that the man would eventually get fed up and "show the damn kids his stabs" as he later put it.
Boxcars managed to keep annoying from killing the grubs, and also managed to keep them in the hideout for nearly a week straight. You would have admired his dedication to raising the young things on his own if the entire ordeal didn't sicken you. Eventually, it was too much for you.
"That's it," you said after the fourth time the brown one had vomited on or near one of your shoes, "Boxcars you either get these things out of here right now or I'm throwing them all into the nearest river."
"No. Now" You were not going to take any of this ridiculous bullshit anymore. You were all adults; it was time to stop playing house.
"Don't you think your being a bit hard?" said Deuce" I mean, they're kind of cute once you get used to 'em. And look, this one's already learnin' how to make explosions!" He held up the mustardy yellow grub, which you had noticed had a tendency to make crackling noises and small explosions. You had learned very early on not to go near it when it was crying.
"Well if you like it so damned much then just take it home already," Slick said, finally joining the conversation. He hadn't said much around the grubs for the last few days. You assumed they made him uncomfortable.
"Hey, that's a great idea slick!" Said Deuce, holding his grub in front of his face, "You wanna come home with me little guy?" the grub made a screech like noise, its strange psychic, or... whatever it was, stuff crackling in deuces face.
"Oh fine, now you want it" grumbled Boxcars. "Well that's two now with me and Deuce. C'mon fellas, do you really want to let these two little guys starve and die? Just look at 'em! You wanna tell 'em, nope, your friends get homes but looks like you gotta go back in that dumpster. You wanna look into their little faces an-"
"Alright shut your goddamn trap already!" Slick yelled, slamming his fist as he got up from his chair. "If you'll quit yammering about it for five damn seconds I'll take one of 'em you useless lug." You all look at Slick in surprise. Honestly, he is the last one of you that you had been expecting to take one. Other than yourself of course.
"And you're gonna take one too, Droog," he grumbled, turning towards you. "If I gotta, so do you, that's a fuckin' order" You glare at Slick menacingly.
"No. This is ridiculous, I'm not going to-"
"I said it's a fucking order you piece of trash, know get over here and get your little worm thing." He glared back with equal menace, despite the fact that you were easily twice his height and twice as strong. The man had guts, even if what he was defending was completely pointless. You sighed and got up, walking towards to the two remaining grubs (Boxcars had picked his favourite, the smallest one with a shade of chocolaty brown). You thought you could probably get away with killing it later and claiming it was an accident anyway. Slick would probably do the same thing, unless he actually did kill it accidentally. Both options were equally likely.
There were two grubs remaining. First, there was the extremely loud, crabby bright red one. Dear god, no. Anything but this one. You never paid much attention to any of the grubs but you know that anything, ANYTHING, was better than this screaming nightmare from hell. You quickly grab the second one without really pausing to look at it. Boxcars and Deuce smiled at you in appreciation of your act of fucking charity, while Slick just grumbled about having to take "the fucking loudmouthed little shit". You simply placed your grub on the table and ignored it until the meeting was over. You didn't properly examine it until you got home.
The grub was female. This was the first thing you noticed upon proper inspection. This came as a surprise to you, as you had assumed all the grubs were male. You were not even sure how you could tell if the grubs are male or female. You shrugged this thought away, as it was obviously completely pointless.
Her colour was a dark maroon, which you find to be a moderately pleasing colour. Better than the bright red or mustard yellow. She was also rather quiet, which is by far her best quality so far. Aside from that, you could not really find any real features to the grub. You decided you ought to find a box to put it in while it slept, at least until you got rid of it.
You found a suitable box and put it in a corner with a spare blanket you have for when Slick shows up drunk at your door. As you put the grub into the box, she woke up, blinking at you. You found it rather disconcerting, the combination of insect like bodies with mammal like heads. Something about your expression must have amused her, because she made a giggle-like, pleasant sound. Far better than crying at least.
It was suggested that you give this grub a name
No. That is stupid. You have no idea why you thought that, or why anyone would ever think to name a child, troll or otherwise with that awful name. It is a childish stupid thought for stupid children.
There, a far better thought. Aradia. Yes, you decided you would call her that. You then put Aradia, newly named, into her box and watched as she settled down for another nap. Perhaps this wouldn't be such a terrible ordeal.
You were partially right. The ordeal has not been terrible up until this moment. It has still been an ordeal, and not always a pleasant one.
You have now had Aradia for approximately a month. She no longer sleeps on a blanket in a box. You have purchased a type of crib and a new maroon blanket for her, and put this in a spare room where she can sleep without disturbing you. Your justification for such expenses is that, should Boxcars show up, you don't want to be lectured on proper grub care. Besides, no one in your home was going to be sleeping in such a sorry old unfashionable cardboard box. The idea itself is repulsive and you regret ever having had it. Incidentally, Boxcars has shown up to take Aradia for "Play dates" with his grub, which he named Tavros. The two apparently get along well. You are not entirely sure if that is a good thing, but at least it means you don't constantly have to be watching her. Aradia has no toys to speak of, but you have found that she enjoys playing with one of your numerous backup hats. This hat has now become quite rumpled, which would normally make you lose your temper. However, seeing as how Aradia has been exceptionally well behaved for a grub (judging by the tell-tale haggard looks and, in slicks case, bite wounds the others have had) you have let it slide. You have even allowed her to rest on you while you are reading or resting, as her presence is no longer revolting to you. Her strange mammalian/insect form is actually almost...endearing. For now. You are certain you will still get rid of her eventually. You have already dipped into your funds enough to supply her food and some comfort. You are not made of money. And you were not made to raise a grub, or be a father.
No. Absolutely not.
That would be absurd.