A/N: Sooo... guess who ricked from university? That would be me. But guys, you're not even ready for this: I was literally rooming with the real-life version of #mbm. My roommate cried and threw fits over everything, was obsessed with her mom and spoke to her on the phone about five times a day, and her dad was never home and was probably mortified with the way she turned out. I just. WHY.
Anyway, let me warn you that this story makes absolutely no sense. I wrote it back in November, prompted by the "I'M ALWAYS A SLUT FOR (insert whatever here)" meme. Enjoy?
Daniel Miller stoop-squatted into his kitchen, smelling worse than usual. He threw his pooppack on the floor as hard as he could, hoping his books would squish in half. It wasn't like books had ever helped him. No, they just taunted him with all those made-up numbers that didn't spell "wee7d" correctly.
"Danny?" an angelic female voice called from down the hallway. "Daniel, honey, is that you?"
Daniel's poof perked up and he turned to see the best woman in existence emerge into the kitchen: Buddha. Also known as Christine Buddha Miller.
Still, since Daniel hated everything, he only grumbled an, "I think so…" and crossed his arms defensively.
Christine gave a sad smile when she looked up twenty feet and saw her little boy. "Oh Danny, what's wrong?"
Daniel's hair began to tear up as he explained, "I got kicked out of health class again."
His mother gasped with shock. "For the seventh time? Oh, now why would they kick you out a seventh time?"
"They told me…" He rubbed his hair. A few pieces fell out, along with some tears. "They told me…"
"Yes?" Christine asked patiently, placing a comforting hand on the back of Daniel's knee (well, the back of his knee), since that was at shoulder-level for her.
"THEY TOLD ME BUDDHA HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE REPRODUKTIVE SYSTEM!" he sobbed. "B-BUT I TOLD THEM, MOMMY, THAT YOU TOOUGHT ME ALL ABOUT IT!"
"There, there." She patted the back of his knee which only made him itch. "Now, Danny, I've told you before, it's the reproductive system—"
"BUT DUCKS QUACK AT ME!"
"And I am not Buddha. In fact, we don't even believe in Buddha. We're Catholic."
Daniel stared at her for a few seconds.
And then—
"YOU THINK I SHOULD LOSE WEIGHT?!"
"No no no—"
"I KNEW IT! STUPID BUNCHY PANTS!" Daniel beanstalked all the way to his garage-bedroom, his pants falling off in the process.
As fate (or "Buddha") would have it, Robbie stepped into the hallway at that exact moment. His older brother's pants landed right on his face.
The young boy pursed his lips and nodded. "I'm calling the cops."
/ /
Twenty minutes later, Rick Marcello arrived home from work. He was on a mission to steal all three of his kids away from the stench that was Dawniel. So far, he only had his youngest, Tommy. But soon enough he'd be able to rescue Melanie, too. Today he was here for a visit.
Rick walked into the kitchen to find his wife stirring a pot of stew. He sighed dazedly. It really was a shame The Lighthouse* had to reside here in Miami. It hurt Rick to be away from his wife, who looked even prettier than usual today.
"Christine. I missed you."
His wife turned around. Immediately, her face lit up. "Rick!" They closed the space between them and shared a chaste kiss in the middle of the kitchen. "I'm so glad you're—"
"Don't let Daniel catch you doing that," Robbie grumbled. He was walking back in from the front door, clearly disgruntled the cops had refused to come inside. They claimed they were "afraid," but seriously, who wasn't? In any case, they promised to stand guard outside and take action if it came down to it. "He'll be so disappointed his mommy is 'having sex' in the middle of the kitchen."
"Rob," Rick tried, but his oldest son was gone in a flash. Mr. Marcello ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "He's still mad I'm getting Mel out first."
Christine patted his hand. "Are you sure we can't see about finding Daniel a nice home where people can help him?"
"Christine, please, you're ruining my appetite."
She sighed. "Speaking of which, dinner's almost ready. Why don't you go tell your son to come help set up."
Rick started sweating at the mere idea of holding a conversation with that thing that lived in the garage, but in the end he remembered the advice Social Services had given him when he'd changed his name. He put on a brave face, took a few calming breaths, and marched down the hallway. He went all the way to the garage where the door was open and Daniel was—
"Are you using my underwear to clot?!"
Daniel was currently bending over the trashcan with a piece of circular wood on top which he used as a desk, wrapping his not-father's underwear around the back of his knee. He pouted. "Yeah. It's really itchy."
Rick's mouth opened and closed in silence three times before he finally remembered to breathe. He counted to ten in his head, composed himself, and said as politely as he could, "Daniel, would you mind helping your mother set the table?"
He'd barely finished his sentence when Daniel exclaimed, at full volume, "I'M ALWAYS A SLUT FOR MY MOM."
At that exact moment, the garage door was blowtorched down. In barged three police officers, one with a straight jacket that would undoubtedly not be straight in a few moments.
"NO! WAIT! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" Daniel wailed.
But no one listened, and he was promptly arrested and taken to jail. For the fifth time that week.
THE END
*A while back, delightisadream decided it would be fun to have Rick and Francisco write letters of "recommendation" for Daniel. One of their letters referred to Daniel as a lighthouse. If you bug her enough, maybe she'll upload the letters for all to enjoy. ;)