'Ditto'

John, with his face so close to the glass that it was nearly pressed against it, eyed the moving truck from his second story window as it sluggishly backed into the driveway next door, the truck's exhaust gasping out a small cloud of smoke as it fought to do its job.

The house had been vacant for as long as he could remember, and he was delighted at the possibility of having someone to talk to. Clearly, John wasn't all that cut out for socialism. He was too busy tinkering around with his jokester toys and failing (but at least trying) to 'program stuff'

John's heart jumped when he spotted a thin-built bleach blonde stepping out of the passenger side of the moving truck, wearing a red and white baseball t and some kind of…goofy looking anime shades….? "Hehehe. She looks like a doofus." John murmured, his breath fogging up the glass on his window.

"Who in the world are you talking to, son?" John jumped out of his own skin. He'd been totally unaware of his dad standing in his doorway, freshly frosted cake in hand. "Oh, Uh...nobody. Just myself."

"Brooooooooo c'mon." Bro looked down at his 'lil sis' with a blank expression, like always. "Nah, no can do Del." he drawled, turning his attention back to the boxes. "Ugh. First of all bromigo, don't call me that," Delilah managed to get a box off of the truck and set it in the driveway.

"Second, ya' need to get rida' that thing... it's creepy as hell." Bro said nothing, only picking up the impossible-looking boxes that Del refused to try to get and dropping them near Delilah's for him to pick up later.

Finally, after much awkward straight staring, Bro spoke. "Can't get rid of my best friend De-sorry bout' that." He cleared his throat. The familiar sound made Delilah sigh softly. Rich and reverberating.

The smile that piqued on her lips turned into a grimace of terror as she found herself eye to eye with Puppetized satan (otherwise known as Lil Cal) "Ugh broooo get him outta' my face!