"Yeah, so, he's going to be helping me with that project.", Stanley introduced to his brother.
Stanford took a look at the nerd on his front porch and seemed in different. He was scrawny, pale, carried a brief case and his glasses barely kept on his nose. But for a nerd, he seemed rather impatient as he stood there, being reviewed. Even before Stanford could open his mouth, the nerd cut in to give a sharp remark.
"Allow me to go ahead and state that my name is indeed, Professor Fiddleford Hadron McGucket. I'm sure over the course of this next year you would've likely come to learn my full name so I'll take the liberty to say it right here and now for your expense.", he rolled his eyes, but the tone seemed to be routine. "Before you begin to criticize my name, however, as your brother has well warned me you would, I shall only find it fair game to warn you that I've heard every joke cracked about it. If you wish to continue to make fun of such a name, I can understand, as does so many, but if it's only to please you that I get darn right furious about it, you're gonna be waiting a long, LONG time."
It took a moment for Stanford to think of a response to this, as it was suddenly so upfront and judging of his personality. But the doc did pinpoint his motives from the very first hearing of such a name. And for such, Stanford was easily already put off by this imposing scientist.
"Well now, wait a minute..", he frowned some. "I'm sure you couldn't have heard EVERY kinda joke you can make with a name like that!"
"Coming from the man who's bore the name all his life and got picked on from Elementary up to high school, past college, and still as an adult amongst fellow intellectuals in my Nasa research facilities, YES. I've heard EVERY joke.", the agitation had grown a little as Fiddleford gave him a more dark look that made Stanley uneasy. If anything, it wasn't so much as an agitation as what would typically be fun to get out of making fun of someone's name, as the sound of it was more of a foreboding sense that you didn't really wanna tread too far on this turf with him. "'Fiddlenerd Hey-dork McFuck-it' is a very popular one to start with. I'm sure it gives you a grand idea of how far the name can go."
To say Stanford was surprised was to be an understatement. But he said no more on the subject and the Nasa scientist was allowed in. Stanley only paused for a moment to look back at Stanford.
"I really had no idea he'd come off so harsh. He's actually a great guy but..", he shrugged. "I guess growing up with nicknames all the time hurt him more than it hurt us."
It was true, growing up with a twin brother that looked a lot like you and shared a similar name, did have its downsides as being picked on when they were kids. But something more of the idea just kinda unnerved Stanford. That this nerd would suddenly have him beat to a punchline before he even had a chance to throw a decent punch. If anything, it was a disappointment on Stanford's behalf. He did have his unusual way of trying to bond a friendship through teases and jokes. This only made him more game to try still.
'He couldn't have heard EVERY joke.', he thought to himself, while he brother hurried off. 'I'm sure there must be ONE that he hasn't heard before..'
And it proved be the challenge, the next time Stanford and Fiddleford happened to cross paths in the small house a couple of hours later.
"Stanford.", Fiddleford nodded politely.
"Hey Fiddlesticks.", Stan smirked.
This only earn an eye roll and a very dry, "Heard that one. They never listen..."
And again as noon rolled by..
"Stanley, are you gonna get some lunch?", Stanford called into the room.
"No, thanks.", Stanley paused and shook his head with a small sigh before finally looking up from his journals and rubbing his eyes. "Actually.. No, you're probably right. I should."
"McFix-it, how about you?", Stanford asked, leaning in the doorway now.
"My wife would kill me if I didn't.", Fiddleford sighed and stretched before standing up. "And I've heard that one in the Fifth Grade, Stanford."
The two walked by as Stanford silently fumed.
"...Damnit!", he growled and stormed out.
And when they were back in and had been working for a couple more hours.
"Fiddle-", Stanford began.
"Heard it. Heard it, heard it, heard it, heard it. Stanford, don't'cha listen?", the nerd turned around and looked back at him above his tiny reading glasses. His voice was very tired sounding, but his accent was slipping a little into a more exaggerated sound. "I've heard it all before. ALL OF IT. I grew up with the damn name! Don't you think there isn't a human being ALIVE that would JUMP to try a new crack at it? I could write more journals than your brother CHOCK FULL of the stupidest variations of that damn stupid name! If'n I can recall my high school years right, you're about to pick Fiddlefart, weren't ya? Or Fiddlescrapdoodle. Oh that was a fun one there."
He stood up now as he continued, emphasizing Stanford's defeat in this little game with each sentence.
"How's about Fiddle-fuck Hey-Fuck-Fuck McFuckity-Fuck? Oh the childish things grown men will stoop to these days!", he rolled his eyes. "HA, HA, good golly, HA! Wow, it is SO funny, isn't it Stan Pines? Hm. Gee. Stan Pines? Did you have a sister named Sally Oak too? How's about you just finish off your name and say Stan Pinetree? Or is it Pineapples? Or, ooh! How about Pinenuts cause you're just that NUTTY that you have to be a little kid and pick on MY NAME when YOURS is little to nothing of a challenge to equally make fun of? Grow up a little, Stanford!"
He turned back to his work and sat down with a huff. It was really just plain stupid at this point to the doctor and there was nothing funny about any of this. Stanford sighed a little. He thought over what Fiddleford said, and then left him in peace.
He was quiet all until the next day when Fiddleford came back again for more work. Stanford walked through the room, and for a moment, Fiddleford wondered if he would say anything.
"So what's up, Grape?", Stanford asked casually.
This was one that took a second to get a look for, but the look was priceless from Fiddleford AND Stanley as both looked back at him in puzzlement.
"...Did..you just call me 'Grape'?", Fiddle asked slowly as if Stanford had just asked for a tall pitcher of battery acid.
"Yeah. I did.", Stanford shrugged. "Do you have a problem with it, Grape?"
"Umm... Yes.", Fiddleford scoffed. "I do. It's not a very creative nickname to tease with. In fact..it's quite random. Please, stop and just call me Fiddleford."
He started to turn back to his work.
"Okay, have it your way, Bananas.", Stanford shrugged, ignoring the request entirely.
"Bana- What?!", Fiddleford shook his head in bewilderment and had to swivel the chair to face Stanford now. "If you're basing fruits off of facial features, I think 'nose' would've been added in there, right?"
"Nope.", Stanford continued his air of casualty as he leaned back on a desk. "Just Bananas. Or should I go with Apples?"
"None!", Fiddleford was starting to get worked up. "What's with these names?! It's not even funny! If this is about yesterday, it's actually kinda pitiful of you!"
Now Stanford was sneering and Stanley couldn't help but stifle a snicker and Fiddleford caught onto the little game. He fumed a little and turned back to his desk, accidentally causing a few loose papers to fly.
"Ha ha..", he said dryly.
"I'm sorry..", Stanley apologized. "Really I am. I don't mean to laugh."
"Welp. See ya around Apples.", Stanford left the room, satisfied with what had happened.
And Fiddleford had hoped that was the end of it, but sadly it wasn't. As Stanford had now continued this little joke and was going through every fruit he could think of with each encounter. In the hallway, over lunch, at dinner, while Fiddleford was getting himself something to drink. Whenever Stanford was in the room, for the next two days, this was kept up. Fiddleford tried to keep his cool about it, but the same nagging question kept pestering him and finally he couldn't stand it any more.
"So Stanley, you and Starfruit w-?"
"FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY STANFORD! WHY DO YOU KEEP CALLING ME FRUIT?!", Fiddleford exploded. "Why?! What kinda game is there to this?! Why do you INSIST on coming out with the weirdest choices of nicknames for me?!"
He was on his feet again and paced straight up to the man, arms out to the heaven's as if waiting for the answer to drop into them. He almost looked like he wanted to choke Stanford for a moment. But the larger of the two men just simply stood there, calm, cool, and collected.
"Because you couldn't make fun of my real name? This is by far the most illogical thing I've ever heard of! But why! Why do you just HAVE to have your fun in calling me fruit names?!"
The was a long pause as Fiddleford panted from his fit. Stanford gave him a good long hard look in the eye. Finally, he clasped a hand firmly on Fiddle's shoulder.
"Because...", he stated calmly. "...You're a fruitloop."
Stanford was the first to break a smile and laugh and Stanley was in hot pursuit of doing the same. Both brothers were cracking up while the real punchline sank into Fiddleford's mind.
"...That's about the stupidest joke I've heard yet..", he murmured quietly, catching the twins' attentions. "...And yet it was also easily the most tactful, well-played, joke to have been laid on me, that I would just walk right into it."
He finally looked at Stanford and smiled a little as if he was crazy.
"...That was brilliant!", he shrugged and laughed a little.
All three began to laugh now and Fiddleford just shook his head.
"I just walked RIGHT into that one!", he laughed at himself.
"Yeah, you did! Do you KNOW how hard it was to keep a straight face? You should've seen yours!", Stanford wheezed between laughs.
"Kudos, Stanford! You made the mad doctor laugh!", Stanley applauded, still laughing himself.
Fiddleford wasn't sure what kinda craziness these twins would come up with next, but he was sure there was gonna be plenty of laughs for a good long time to come.
