There's a creepy crawly on the loose in Camp Phineas- or more specifically, on Baljeet's stomach. What if it has venomous fangs, or sharp claws? Maybe it's Baljeet's last night to live.
Phineas & Ferb (Buford and Baljeet) are © Dan Povemire and Jeff "Swampy" Marsh.
Rating: T [for some strange humour]
Implied Buford/Baljeet.
"It is coming! I-it is coming, Buford! It is coming towards me-ee-EE!"
He was nudged awake, sweating and wide-eyed at the amused expression of the boy beside him. The bully was staring at him with his eyes half-open, obviously annoyed that he'd been woken up from deep slumber, but curious as to what was ailing the small boy beside him. The weight on the little Indian's chest subsided, but a rush still hung around the low of his stomach. Baljeet's harsh breathing calmed down slightly, and he swallowed, blinking and looking down at his stomach.
"Oh. It was all just a dream." Baljeet breathed. The smells of death, the sticky skin, his inability to move and the torturous crawling on his stomach… Thank god, it was a dream... except, he could feel a sensitive brush against his stomach as he moved to try stretch out the tenseness. He froze, eyes terrified and widening at the faint tingle ghosting along his stomach.
"A-ah! Buford! It is coming!"
The bully just blinked groggily, confused, before a strange notion came to his head. He smirked lazily at his tent-mate and raised a brow. "You got weird dreams, nerd."
Baljeet was too busy being horrified. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the creepy crawly, not daring to move. And all this time, he'd thought Buford was the single most scary thing known to... the nerd's eyes darted open as the vulgarity of the other boy's comments suddenly clicked in his brain, and he stared at the bully in disbelief.
"Buford! That is not what I was talking abou-,"
He was cut off mid-sentence, and jerked in surprise as his friend draped an arm around his shoulders. Baljeet whimpered. The ghost on his stomach seemed to move when he did, jumping as he jerked. What could it be, this strange entity on his stomach? He has read of things in books, from little monsters of the forest to larger ones below the lake. Whatever was torturing him now was small, unlikely to be any bigger than his hand, but he also knows that even small things can be lethal. He has read all about it. They have venomous teeth, and poison stings; Sharp claws, and strong, nasty clams. All of these he knew of, from reading to complete his top-mark essays. He was faced with the fact that truthfully, there was the whole of nature that could possibly- and would probably- kill him.
As a tiny boy, he was defenseless. He did not want to die today. There was so much to live for.
The nerd shuddered pathetically.
The large boy beside him seemed to let out a loud guffaw, and Baljeet's face grew hot in a mixture of anger and embarrassment.
"No, you dimwit! Do not be silly! I did not shiver- nor did I dream- at or of you, Buford!" The boy fumed, and the latter stopped laughing. Baljeet's lower lip trembled, and he looked down at his stomach. A strangled whisper came out. "I am scared. There is a... bug."
His friend withdrew his arm, and together, they stared at the blanket on Baljeet's stomach in worry.
"... You don't think it's poisonous, do ya?"
"We... cannot know. Camp Phineas is situated in the wild, after all."
The two boys had their breaths held, one in fear, and the other in grudging concern. By now, all jokes were thrown aside and a dangerous silence ensued. Buford grit his teeth as Baljeet stared hopelessly at his stomach. It felt like any moment now, he'd... his nerd would...
He didn't want to imagine.
"Aw man! I'm gettin' Dinner Bell! Not waitin' here while my nerd becomes a pile of dead carcass!"
Clumsily, he lifted his bulky self off the ground, and reached the exit of the tent. For once, the improper use of adjectives didn't even register in the smaller boy's mind as he stared after Buford in abject horror, voice heightening in fear.
"Do not LEAVE me!"
Buford paused, stuck between going to get someone who could possibly save him, and heeding the desperate cry of the small indian kid that he'd grown so close to. A feeling of sick guilt twisted in his gut. For the moment, he loathed himself for not being more useful than he was.
Afterall, he was only Buford Van Stomm. A big, strong, clumsy brutish boy- the feared neighborhood bully. He wasn't smart, nor was he skillful. Perhaps, he could play the drums quite well, and give the most memorable wedgies. When he thought about it, sure, he could speak some fluent french, some latin in the background. But what was it against the boy next door who could plan out spaceships, roller coasters, time machines and- just, more?
Next to Phineas, what was he? In fact, even now, Buford could hardly be of any help. His face contorted into an expression of anger, and concern he switched his gaze to the dark outdoors, and towards his terrified friend, who was staring at him with a pained expression.
"Dinner Bell could save ya..."
"Buford..."
"I-I can't do nothin'!"
"No- just stay! I do not want to be left alone with this- with this- this... oh! I do not want to be alone with this thing that is crawling all over me!"
The bully relented, letting the tent flap shut. He slumped back onto his sleeping bag, and watched at the nerdy kid who was trying not to cry.
"Has it moved any yet?" Buford scratched his scalp.
"Not for the last while..." Baljeet muttered. "Ever since I have sat here still, it has not moved."
"D'ya think it's sleeping?"
"I d-do hope so."
"..." Buford's brows furrowed, and his mouth frowned in determination. "Alright. I'm gonna flip the blanket off ya."
"Oh, yes! That is genius! Maybe the face of my nightmares will scare it away!" Baljeet whined.
"... I'm gonna do it."
"With haste, friend!"
Buford quickly grabbed at the blanket. Baljeet breathed.
"D-do not... startle it."
Buford gulped, cautiously gripping the sheets. Time stilled for the great reveal. The small one closed his eyes, "too terrified to look". The strongest kid in town gathered all his strength and tugged. Baljeet peaked through his eyelid. Buford deadpanned.
"... are you serious?"
The indian blinked at his own hand, resting lightly on his stomach. He smiled sheepishly, and giggled.
"...O-o-oh! Well, that is a relief!" Baljeet chuckled, "Who would have thought I would be afraid of my own hand!"
He rolled down the shirt that had lifted to reveal his belly halfway through the night, and stretched his hand out curiously in front of him, shining with glee.
"... you're serious."
Buford stared at the little nerd, giggling in wonder at his arm.
"The thought is quite amusing really." Baljeet nodded, all calmed down from his previous excitement.
Buford was never getting so worked up about ridiculous claims about bugs again. He'd actually thought for a moment he would lose- he swallowed the glob of air at the back of his throat that was making it so hard to breathe.
"Do you not think so?" Baljeet inquired, both glad to be alive yet feeling so ridiculous at the unexpected happening. Buford huffed, wrapping his sleeping bag loosely around him, not bothered to fix it up.
"Whatever. I'm sleepin'." He grouched, and shut his eyes forcefully.
Man. What a night.
Baljeet looked around the tent before settling back under his blanket, feeling newly secure.
A few minutes later, his eyes flew open. He fidgeted underneath the blanket, and tugged both his hands out into the open. Oh no. Oh no. It was back, and this time, it wasn't his hand.
"Buford; Buford! It has returned! And this time it is a big-...," Baljeet turned around to see Buford facing him, glowering at him with one eye open, an arm flung out around...
oh.
"-... it is a big, pudgy hand." Baljeet smiled to himself, but Buford just rolled his eyes and closed them again.
"It's not that I like ya or anythin'... m' just protectin' you from the bugs. Now shut it, I'm sleepin'."
Baljeet hummed. "Hm, that is good. I feel very safe."
"I'm sleepin!"