Flippy & Evil Flippy

Ever wonder if Flippy had a family back home when he went to war? Here's the story of Flippy's personal life. This and the next couple chapters will be explaining his nuclear family, then later, I'll back up and explain his mom and dad and brothers and sisters, or lack therof. :) Enjoy! ( Slight Oc-ness)( Slight Flippy/Evil Flippy yaoi pairing.)

Hey you!

Hey you

I gotta tell you my long time friend

I think of all those years you saw me through tears

and the good times that we spend

Hey you

You're my constant companion

You always let me explain just what I'm saying

and we've just begun

Ooooh

"DAMNIT! Stop, run away! Come on, Evil Flippy, let them alone! You can't take them all on, and I can't abandon my family!" Flippy screamed in vain in his head at the other entity in his head, slicing and dicing and barreling his way through the enemy panda forces.

He wanted out. Staring in horror at Evil Flippy, he felt his conciousness ebbing and flowing with the slash of every glittering blade, every gunshot shaking him, shimmying him further, further gone.

He could never come home, the person who came out of his sobbing mother's home that day after he had been drafted, the cocky young man who didn't really know anything, who was just a babe in arms at 59 ( 24 in our years), was gone, forever. He would never come home. And his mother knew that better than he had known, as she had lost her husband that way as well. His body was there, but the man Flippy's father had been before he went to war had died in battle. It was inevitable. Everyone went to war, and some even survived, but nobody lived after it was over.

Rena sat on the deck, smoking a cigarrette. She sighed, and put her free hand up to clutch her forehead. She glanced over at her husband tiredly. Flippy was sitting on the swing, unmoving, staring into space, into times long past, at horrors of what had been.

She took a long drag, with shaking fingers. She looked down, suddenly, at her hands, and crushed the cigarrette, and got up abruptly, took a running leap off the porch, and chunked the cigarette into the dark night beyond.

" Say something, for christs sake!" She shrieked at him. He didn't seem to hear her. She ran over to him, grabbed him by the shoulders, and shook him. His head lolled to the side, like a doll's head. His eyes remained unfocused, staring out somewhere past her. She slapped him hard. He didn't budge. He suddenly shoved her aside, still looking far past her, to the side of her, and ran past her into the street.

" MOUSE KABOOM!" He screeched into the night at noone. " FOR FUCK'S SAKE, WHY?! He had a wife and a baby on the way! HE WAS JUST A KID!" He grabbed a branch on the ground, hugging it to him, thinking it was his old army buddy. He sobbed on the piece of wood. He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket, bit off the antennae, and threw it out into nothing, running for cover under a chair and covering his ears, apprently under the impression of throwing a grenade. That was when Rena knew, there was something wrong with her husband.

Flute sat in the kitchen. He was sixteen that very day, but no special occasion could wake dad from his living nightmares. Post traumatic Stress Disorder, they said. It'll get better on it's own, they said. Just be patient, they said. Flute bitterly crushed his joint underfoot and looked, not without disgust, at his aimlessly staring father, seated on the couch. Anyone would have easily been convinced he was blind. And deaf. And dead, for that matter. Flute glared down at his dad's back, and went over to the television. Rena came down the stairs just in time to see Flute reaching for the remote. Her eyes popped with panic. She closed the last fifteen feet between them in no time and snatched the remote out of his hands.

"What are you thinking!?" She cried at him, smacking him in the nose, hard.

"Goddamnit, I'm sick of this, mom!" He cried. " Don't you think this one fucking time, on my birthday, I can watch my own tv in my own fucking house?" He yelled.

She slapped him hard in the face, and he, not expecting it, flew to the ground.

"Don't you dare curse at your mother! And don't be selfish - You know the only thing that's on tv these days, and we mustn't upset your father!" She lowered her voice suddenly. " Your father was not the least bit selfish. He sacrificed everything for his country, for our safety. He was a real man!"

Flute exploded. " Why the fuck does everyone keep saying 'was'? He was a real man, he wasn't selfish, well you know what mom? HE ISN'T DEAD YET! And all I'm asking is one day! It's my birthday and I'm moving out of here when it's done! And you know what? I'm gonna go protestthe war in Veitnam!"

And suddenly, he spoke. Flippy's voice startled them very badly, especially since he was suddenly right upon them.

"War." He said quietly.

Rena's eyes filled with tears. "Flippy?" She whispered, barely above a whisper. "Are you with us, love?"

"War."

"D-dad?" Flute's voice cracked badly.

"Let me tell you.... About war."

Suddenly, Rena's voice became cautious. "Flippy, honey? Are you ok?"

" He's gone mad, mom! Look, I can see it in his eyes! He's gone insane!"

"Don't you dare say that about your father!" Rena cried shrillly, denying the fact that she knew her son was right. She didn't notice Flippy slowly picking up a glass bottle off the table. "He's... oh... my GOD! Flippy, get a hold of yourself!"

Flippy was grinning an evil grin and his eyes had morphed into a dangerous green color, tinted unnaturally bright with an almost sexual excitement, purely malicious, and he broke the bottle over his son's back, then ripped open his son's throat with the jagged ends. He turned then to his shaking, terrified wife. He brought the bottle to her lip, a soft caress, (As soft as he could manage, anyway, with a broken glass bottle) and brought it down slowly, almost sensually, down the front of her body to her shirt, where he continued pulling it down, now ripping her shirt open as he went, all the way to her navel. Evil Flippy next repeated the whole maneauver with his tongue, and Rena shivered as it danced down between her breasts to rest on the spot where the bottle, now dropped to the floor and forgotten, had been. Rena, quite weak in the knees, gave way to the floor. Flippy grinned evilly down at her, and grbbed the last bit of broken bottle, and shoved it, jagged side first, into her mouth, forcing it open.

"Bra-fuckin-vo, son." A voice rang out in the living room, and Evil Flippy turned around warily, like a pissed off lion that was startled out of sleep, and then faded suddenly, and the real Flippy came back.

He turned to his family, slaughtered and raped, and fell weakly to his knees. He raised his hands slowly above his head, as if in surrender, balled up his hands into fists, and pounded the ground abruptly. He let out a sound that was not describable. It started with a 'WR' sound, and then just became a seemingly endless "AHHHH!" sound. It was so loud, it hurt Flippy's own ears to hear it, and the desperation, the horror that still was too enourmous to be let out of the comparativley tiny mouth, was painful to bear.

The voice that had spoken was Flippy's Uncle Jerry, who had participated in The Civil War to end Horse slavery, World War One and World War Two. He was the most headstrong, brutal, uncompromising, vicious, cold hard man Flippy had ever encountered in all his years, including his military years, and his special forces years. He was rugged, demanding, gruff, callous damned man. Flippy, now after having been through only one war (But what a war it was), was filled with a kind of terrified awe and amazement that the man was not entirely off his rocker. Then again, he may be - Flippy had never talked to him too much.

Uncle Jerry ( That's admiral Jerry to you, faggot,) , looked disgusted by Flippy shreiks and walked over to the boy. ( Flippy might be sixty seven (27 in our years) but to Unle Jerry, at one hundered four, ( 54 in our years) he was still a boy,) and kicked him in the stomach, effectively silencing him. He stalked oer and jerked the kid to is feet by his ear, and dragged him to the cadavers of his beloved family. He shoved the kid's face in the brutally mutilated one of his lover, and screamed at him, " ARE YOU HAPPY WITH WHAT YOU'VE DONE HERE, SON? ARE YOU PLEASED? IS THIS HOW YOU WANTED TO COME BACK HOME? BY BUTCHERING YOUR FUCKING FAMILY? GIVE ME AN ANSWER, MAGGOT, BEFORE I GET MY SHOTGUN AND FEED YOU THE BARREL RIGHT HERE AND NOW!"

Flippy could only sob loudly for an answer. His throat was so full of emotion that he coudn't quite talk through it, even though he damned well tried, for Jerry. "G-ggoo- G-G-ooo-" Sob " I--I... Ohhh C-Chri...I D-Didn't - J-j-jesu- Ahh, g-g...Gahhhh... Flu-uu, R-Ren,..." And then he burst back into hysterics. Only one coherent word made it out of his mouth that night - " RENA!"

Jerry stared at him for a moment, still full of disgust, but then his face softened, just slightly, and he sighed, caving wearily. He walked over to Flippy, and leaned over slightly. He was too old to be the hardened, cold, unfeeling bastard that he used to be, and that he needed to be for Flippy's sake. He pat the boy's back softly and went to the kitchen, returning moments later with a full bottle of brandy and two shot glasses. It was the longest night of Flippy's life.

Dang. And that's how Flippy's wife and son ceased to live. This was a while after he got back from the war, but before you join him in the series. Join us in the next chapter, as we go back a little further, to Flippy's mother and father, sisters and brother, or lack therof. After that, we will back up even more, to Flippy's Uncle Jerry's time in the war, his wife(?) and (or) kids, etc. :)