HI GUYS! HOW YA DOIN'?
It's Missy, back for another fandabbydozy request! This one is for TheFabulousHeather (check out her stories hub, she is super talented!). I swear, I am so looking forward to seeing this on my stories list!
By the way, bottomless apologies to muse of sufferings for not uploading the fic we discussed last! As soon as I'm done this I shall get right on it!
Okee dokee, let's get this show on the road!
Missyclaimer: No matter how much I, Miss Misled-Bloodshed wish, I never have, don't and never will own Child's Play or any of the characters belonging to the franchise! The plot is purely from the imagination of TheFabulousHeather!
*makes to walk away, but trips over her own clumsiness* Hi floor, make me a sammich!
We begin with a not so silent night.
The trees were swaying in the violent wind and every so often the sky lit up, illuminating the two small figures on the floor. One was evidently asleep, the other not, his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. The badly constructed house they lay inside creaked significantly louder as the winds rose.
Chucky was trying desperately to stay awake, his lids feeling heavier every minute that passed. He shifted slightly in his spot, the bed he lay on not made of the best. Still, a bed was a bed, and anyway, it wasn't him he was worried about. He looked to the right and observed his wife's sleeping figure, her plastic chest rising with every creak of the tired old house. She had her back to him, but he could still see her deflating baby bump from here.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking at Tiffany with eyes the colour of blue-tinted icebergs. He took in every detail about her, from her soft blonde hair to her curvy figure. He traces the pattern of her nightwear before she let out a soft, sleepy groan and turned to face him, yet still she was dead to the world. He smiled a little, studying her perfect little nose, her large eyes, cupid's bow lips and slim eyebrows. She may be a doll, but she was still perfect in every sense of the word. He remembered the night he and Tiffany conceived Glen and Glenda. He still couldn't believe it was a few weeks ago. Ha, he was blushing even thinking about it.
A wail cut through the house at the exact moment the house lit up. Chucky recognised it as Glen. 'Crap.' He said. He looked at Tiffany, who looked as if she would wake up any second. Feeling like she needed the rest after the difficult birth, he stroked her face lightly and got up to comfort his son. Another roll of thunder slid through the house, seeming to shake its foundations. A second cry sounded from the same room; obviously Glenda had woken up too.
With much practiced stealth, he crept out of the room and down the hall. He passed Eddie's room, hearing his friend's snores from inside. He turned down the hall and went downstairs to the twin's room. There wasn't any room for them upstairs and Tiffany had been having quite a lot of headaches after coming out of hospital, so with many protests from Tiffany, she gave up and agreed on letting the children sleep downstairs.
He stepped carefully down the stairs and into the twin's room. He crept over to their joined cribs and picked up Glen carefully, his crying stopped immediately. The baby doll just traced the scars and stitches moulded in his father's face, making to grab his eyes. He cooed and dribbled, and Chucky chuckled slightly, before picking up the crying Glenda and shushing her. She, of course took a little longer to quiet down.
Without thinking, he hummed tunelessly. He wasn't aiming for any kind of song, but what did come out was quite familiar.
As the snow flies
On a cold and gray Chicago mornin
A poor little baby child is born
In the ghetto
And his mama cries
Cause if there's one thing that she don't need
Its another hungry mouth to feed
In the ghetto
He remembered his mother singing that to him as a kid. A bit of Elvis always helped him release his anger, especially when-God forbid- killing didn't. He remembered going to the music store at nine years old, some times skipping school to sit in the tiny room and listen to music. If his father ever found out he'd whack Chucky's pale skin until it was red raw. And that was when he wasn't drunk.
He continued to hum. It was sending the twins slowly and steadily into a slumber. Glen's eyes were dropping and Glenda was yawning. He chuckled and carried on with the song.
People, don't you understand
The child needs a helping hand
Or he'll grow to be an angry young man some day
Take a look at you and me,
Are we too blind to see,
Do we simply turn our heads
And look the other way
He gritted his teeth and didn't let the flashbacks get to him. He pushed them away. This kind of time was for when he was anywhere but here in front of his kids.
But this verse described him perfectly.
Well the world turns
And a hungry little boy with a runny nose
Plays in the street as the cold wind blows
In the ghetto
And his hunger burns
So he starts to roam the streets at night
And he learns how to steal
And he learns how to fight
In the ghetto
He struggled to hold the tears back. He would not give in. No. No, never.
He moved to the kitchen and stood there, illuminated by the moonlight. The kids were on the verge of sleep now. He felt no need to hum any more, for he knew that if he did he would burst into tears. But still he pressed on, daring the monster to cross the mental line he'd draw for himself years ago. Since his mother died.
Then one night in desperation
A young man breaks away
He buys a gun, steals a car,
Tries to run, but he don't get far
And his mama cries
As a crowd gathers round an angry young man
Face down on the street with a gun in his hand
In the ghetto
He heard a creak of a stair and turned to see Eddie in the doorway, curly hair standing on end and his eyes filled with sleep. His goofy partner in crime smiled sleepily. 'You're quite the musician, huh?' Chucky rolled his eyes and turned back to look at the twins, who were now dead to the world. 'What the hell are you doing here?' He heard footsteps behind him and felt Eddie's presence close behind him. He looked up at the moon, and felt something inside him stir. Something he had buried deep within the darkest corners of his own self hatred and reckless indifference to human life. It was no longer extinct: it was dormant.
'Do you remember telling me you never wanted to have kids? Y'know, cause of your old man and stuff?' Eddie asked.
'Yeah.' Murmured Chucky. 'I sure do.'
'And yet look at ya. You look happier than when I've ever seen you.'
'Thats 'cause I am, Ed. I always thought murder was the only thing that was going to make me happy: taking someone else's life and being able to do what you want with it seemed like the way for me, y'know? But now I think I'm beginning to see past all that, and I know now that I've started to wake up and smell the coffee.' Chucky said. He walked carefully back to the twins' room, placing both in their separate cribs and stroking their plastic cheeks.
He walked out carefully, glad now that the storm had seemed to end and all that was outside was a soft breeze. He tip-toed back into the kitchen and saw Eddie at the dining table, lighting up a cigarette. He went over and hauled himself onto a chair, snatching the packet and tipping a cig into his plastic hand. He grabbed the lighter and lit it up, inhaling deeply and slumping in his chair.
'What's the time?' He asked. Eddie looked at his cheap watch. 'Late.' He said. Chucky smirked. 'Smartass.' He took the cig out of his mouth to blow smoke out. Eddie studied his best friend, the non-melted part of his face alive with intrigue. He could still see a bit of the human Charles in the new one: his eyes were getting icier, his teeth looking a bit more human like and his hair was growing longer, not to mention a bit darker than the industrial orange that he had been made for. His best friend was a freak of nature, and he didn't love him any less for it. EddieandCharles, CharlesandEddie, that's how it had always been.
Chucky put the cig between his lips as he noticed his buddy staring at him. 'I know, I know, I'm beautiful. The fuck are you staring at, you weirdo?' Chucky said. Eddie grinned and changed the subject. 'So, are you happy to be a dad?' He asked, blowing smoke out through a tiny hole in his mouth. ' The hell kind of stupid question is that?' Chucky raised an eyebrow and turned his head to the window, the moonlight flooding the room. He looked out, and for a second could've sworn he saw a shooting star. Another poor bastard falling off Rainbow Road*. ' But yeah, in answer to your dumb question, I am. I think this is an entirely new page for the Rays.' He stubbed his half finished cigarette out in the Magic Ashtray, which had appeared suddenly out of nowhere. 'For once in my miserable life, I'm happy, and nobody had to die for it.'
The two buddies sat at the table, watching the moon and the stars and the sky, which seemed to revolve around that exact moment in time. The babies slept, unaware of the life they had been born into, but nonetheless sleeping.
As her young man dies,
They were just two babies born into a world of billions of others, but they didn't need to know that. After all...
On a cold and grey Chicago mornin
Another little baby child is born
In the ghetto
AWWW!
I chose this song because my mum likes Elvis (no, scratch that, LOVES him) and it just seemed to fit in, y'know? I'm quite partial to the odd 'Jailhouse Rock' or 'Hound Dog' too. We have such fun dancing in the kitchen! Pulling out my Matt Smith moves are especially entertaining.
*Thats enough Mario for me, I think. X3
Thanks for reading! Reviews and favourites are always appreciated! Also, if you have a request for meh, PM me! I love doing them!
Thanks so much to TheFabulousHeather for the plot! Be sure to check out her stories hub, you will not regret it! Laters, my duckies!