HAPPY 30 STORY ANNIVERSARY! *SHOOTS PARTY POPPER*
... I have no life
ANYWAY, I was recently rewatching A Tale of Two Stans and had a profound thought: Stan literally faked his death. He literally faked his death. What kind of damage would that do to his family? I mean, I'm sure his father wouldn't be destroyed (not saying he wouldn't care, as I don't think he's completely heartless) but what about his mother?
And what about Stan? How would YOU react if your distraught mom called you about your own death? Thus, this fic was born!
Enjoy!
Ring! Ring!
Stanley jerked awake from the couch he'd been sleeping on for the last few months. At first, the source of the sound didn't register, and he looked around in his half asleep stupor.
Ring! Ring!
A phone? No one had called since he started living there, and he hadn't even thought Ford owned a phone anymore. Not since the last time Stan had tried to call him when he was on the streets in New Mexico.
Ring! Ring!
Stan flopped off the couch, putting a hand to his aching head as he waited for the room to stop spinning. It was the first time he'd had more than a couple hours of sleep in months, and the exhaustion had taken a toll.
Ring! Ring!
Stan made his way to the landline, clearing his throat before answering. "Hello? This is Stanl-ford Pines."
He heard crying on the other end. Did this person have the wrong number? Why was there some sobbing woman on the line? He was pretty sure Ford wasn't going around breaking any ladies hearts in his free time.
Finally the crying woman spoke through her tears. "Ford? You haven't heard, have you?"
Stan recognized the voice immediately. Why wouldn't he?
It was his mother, after all.
Quickly, Stan put on his "Ford voice", reserved for when he and his twin used to switch places on phone calls.
"Ma? No? What haven't I heard?" He asked.
"Oh, Ford, I'm so sorry. I know you two didn't part on the best terms but… it- it's Stan."
Stan felt his heart freeze. He knew what was coming.
"We just found out Stanley died-" More tears, "-died in a car wreck last week."
Stan didn't say anything. What could he say?
His mother continued. "They said the body was beyond recognition… but it was him." Sniffing. "I don't know if you two ever talked after you left, but… we're having a funeral for him in a week. Please, Stanford… think about it? For me, for- for your brother. It'll be here in New Jersey. Please…" then the line went dead, but not before he heard a new wave of tears.
Stan stood there, still holding the phone up to his ear, seemingly unable to move. The only thing he knew for certain was he couldn't go there. How could he? Even with his and Ford's near identical appearance, they would know it wasn't him. And there was no way he could attend his own funeral alive.
Finally, Stan set the phone back on its hook. He backed up slowly to a stool at the kitchen table, dropping into it with a huff. Stan buried his head in his hands, running his fingers through his hair.
Why was he so… stupid? When he'd faked that car crash, he'd neglected to think about just what it meant. His parents thought he was dead. They were having a funeral for him. His mother was devastated! And now, "Stanford" wasn't even going to show up to his twin's funeral. What did that say?
"Oh, Ford, what am I supposed to do?" He whispered. "I screwed up again. I really need your help here…"
He just hoped his family wouldn't be too mad at Ford for not showing up. He didn't deserve that. It wasn't his fault, after all.
It never was.
A sound in the other room forced Stan to lift his head from his hands. The alarm he'd set.
Shakily, Stan stood up, pulling on his new suit and fez. He ran his hands under the faucet, splashing his face with the water and forcing on a showman smile before opening the front door.
"Step right up to the Mystery Shack, folks!"
Hopefully it made you think!
Till next story! (which is already done, AHAHAHA)
