Title: Aftermath
Rating: T
Summary: "What if that was my grandmother? What if that was YOUR grandmother?" A continuation of Frenzy, we recommend reading that first, though this one can stand alone. A closer examination of each set of friends' relationship.
Author's Note: Another Miniola and Toxin collaboration, Aftermath is quite literally… the direct result of Frenzy. We just couldn't stop at the end. So, this will be a four part series of one-shots, each looking at one of the sets of friends. The first one is the one which left the deepest impression on our brains (along with some Calvin and Hobbes inspirations) – Specs and Dutchy.
Warning: Very implied, in some cases, almost actually slash. If you don't like slash… you probably shouldn't read it. Unless you like snowmen.
Snowman
"DUTCHY!" Snow fell from the tress at Specs' loud cry. He scowled angrily, waiting for the eccentric youth to appear. He didn't have to wait long.
"You called?" Dutchy popped out from the small workspace off the side of the garage, looking at his bespectacled friend. Specs motioned around the front lawn and driveway.
"Remember how we talked about me having a job? From which I earn money?" Specs questioned. Dutchy nodded enthusiastically, and Specs continued. "Well, to get to that job, I need to drive. And in order to drive, I have to get my car onto the street. And to do that, I use my driveway." Dutchy nodded again.
"So?"
"So, it's kind of hard to do that when my driveway is covered in little snowmen!" Specs sounded rather exasperated; Dutchy merely grinned.
"Aren't they amazing?"
"Not… really." Specs motioned towards his car again. "I have to run over them to get out."
"You can't do that!" Dutchy leapt towards the nearest one. "I named them!"
Specs gave him an odd look, and glanced at the numerous snowmen again. "You named them? All of them?"
"Of course I did!" Dutchy looked proud of himself. "See- that one over there is Blink."
"Why?"
"Because it only has half a head," Dutchy noted, as if it should have been obvious. "Do you know how hard it is to build a snowman with only one eye? Half a head is much easier."
"Oookay." Specs nodded at two small snowmen. "And those?"
"Duh. Those are Race and Spot. Race is the one that's kinda fatter. I couldn't think of another way to tell them apart." Dutchy cocked his head thoughtfully, as if he was reconsidering his decision. Specs shook his head slowly.
"Wow. Dutch, those are something else."
"Oh! And see, that one over there is Mush, and there's Skittery! And Jack, David, and that one over there that's kinda lopsided," Dutchy motioned with his hand. "That one is Bumlets."
"Why?" Specs puzzled. Dutchy frowned.
"No idea. But that one is ME!" He pointed at the snowman near the mailbox. It was slightly larger then all of the others. "Aren't I pretty?"
"Very." Specs marveled at how Dutchy managed to get top grades in school.
"Oh! Oh!" Dutchy pointed at one of the snowmen in the middle of the driveway. "That one's you!"
Specs stared. "Uh, Dutch?"
"Yes, Specs?"
"I have to go to work. I have to run myself over to get there."
Dutchy gasped. "Vehicular suicide! No! I can't let you!" Moving from his spot on the lawn, he threw himself onto Specs- the real Specs, though he glanced at the snowman as he passed it.
"Dutchy, it's a snowman."
"But it's you."
"It's still a snowman." Specs slipped free of Dutchy's grasp.
"But it's you."
"Snowman."
"You."
"Snowman."
"You!"
"I have to get to work!" Specs headed towards his van. Dutchy tagged along behind him.
"I don't wanna stand outside to witness your death. Take me with you!" He hopped into the passenger side of the car before Specs could protest. As Specs clambered into the other side, he looked at Dutchy.
"You want to go to work with me?"
"Work?"
"Dutchy- I am going to work. I am going to my job. Whether I run myself over or not."
"I'll go with you!" Dutchy exclaimed, bouncing up and down on his seat. Specs sighed.
"Fine. Behave yourself though."
"When do I ever misbehave?" Dutchy glanced backwards. "Please make it a quick and painless death. I don't want to see you suffer."
"Wha-" Specs decided against asking. Turning on the car, Specs backed out hastily. The snowman imitation broke, with the body being run over, and the head rolling towards the side of the driveway. Dutchy gasped loudly.
"NO!" He made a move to unbuckle himself. "Your head!"
Specs forced him to stay seated. "Dutchy, you are staying in this car! Period."
"But… you're dead! And your head is just sitting there." Dutchy protested, pointing towards the single ball of snow sitting at the edge of the driveway. Specs sped up.
"Given my job, I don't think I need it anyways," he muttered to himself. As soon as they got on the main street, he remembered why he usually neglected to drive Dutchy anywhere.
"Red light! Green light! Stop sign! PEDESTRIAN!" Dutchy practically screamed, pointing to a girl towards the side of the road.
"Dutchy!" Specs exclaimed. "She's not even crossing the street!"
"Be careful! We don't want your record to have both vehicular suicide and vehicular homicide on it!" Specs nearly laughed at the true concern in Dutchy's voice.
"I swear I won't hit her."
"PEDESTRIAN!"
"LITTLE OLD LADY!" Specs yelled back. Dutchy turned quickly.
"Where?!"
"Under the car," Specs deadpanned.
"Specs! I can't believe you!" Dutchy rolled down his window, as if trying to look under the car to check. "You promised!"
"Whoops." Specs ignored Dutchy's whining, and focused on driving. Dutchy started to pout.
"Some friend you are. What if that was someone's grandmother? What if it was my grandmother? What if it was YOUR grandmother?"
Specs frowned. "My grandmother's dead."
"She is now!" Dutchy added. Specs rolled his eyes, deciding not to comment on that addition. They sat in silence for a few minutes; then Dutchy muttered again.
"Stop sign."
"What?" Specs flinched.
"Stop sign," Dutchy repeated.
"Where?"
"Back there." Dutchy pointed over his shoulder.
"No there wasn't." Specs frowned, checking his mirrors.
"Yeah huh."
"Shit," muttered Specs under his breath.
"Pointless point."
"Shut up, Dutch."
"Will not." Dutchy resumed his silent pouting, throwing furtive glances at Specs occasionally. After the rest of the trip was undertaken in silence, Specs pulled into the parking lot of a McDonalds. Dutchy looked out.
"You work flipping burgers?"
"No," Specs responded, getting out. "I work milking the cows for the milkshakes."
"That's so cool!" Dutchy's voice, however, was slightly sarcastic. Specs wondered whether it was because Dutchy knew that he was joking, or if it was because Dutchy frowned upon people who milked cows. Either way, Dutchy was brought abruptly out of his pout-fest.
"Okay, you go sit over there," Specs said as they walked in, pointing to a table near the play area. "I'll try to get a shortened shift today."
"Specs?"
"What?" Specs replied, somewhat impatiently. He was already late, and while not entirely Dutchy's fault, Dutchy was going to get most of the blame.
"I wanna play on the playground."
"Fin—you what?" Specs did a double take.
"I want to play," Dutchy said slowly.
"You can't. You'd get stuck." Specs turned to go behind the counter. Dutchy's indignant voice spoke up behind him however.
"Are you implying that I'm fat?"
Specs realized that Dutchy already had his shoes off. "Put your damn shoes back on, Dutchy. And I wasn't implying you were fat any more then you were implying Race is with that snowman." Leaving Dutchy to ponder that statement, Specs went to work.
Dutchy, eventually giving up on his attempt to work out whether his best friend thought he was fat or not, realized that he was hungry. Wandering up to the counter, he looked up at the menu.
"Next." Specs sounded bored, Dutchy realized. He used this to convince himself to never get a job.
"Heya, Specs!" Dutchy stepped forward, too happy to notice Specs' quiet groan.
"What do you want?"
"Do you have anything free?" Dutchy questioned, raising his eyes to the menu again.
"Uh, no." Specs rolled his eyes again.
"Oh. I'm broke. And hungry. But I really don't want to go over and steal that little kid's food."
Specs sighed. "I will buy you lunch, Dutchy. Just pick something."
"I want a hamburger!...Without pickles. No, wait, pickles are good. But I want fries, too. Pickles and fries. With a hamburger. No, no. No fries. Milkshakes are good. Aren't milkshakes good, Specs?" Specs stared as Dutchy rambled on.
"Uh, so what do you want?"
"Cheese. And pickles. No. Pickles are gross." The people in line behind Dutchy groaned; Specs winced apologetically. Dutchy's face contorted into a look of confusion.
"Wait. Are pickles gross? Depends on the kind. I want a hamburger!"
"Dutch- do you want a hamburger with pickles and cheese?" Specs tried not to sound too frustrated; tried, and failed.
"What's wrong with your voice, Specs? You sound tired."
"Dutchy, there are people in line behind you. I'm getting you a milkshake."
"Ooh." Dutchy nodded. "Milkshakes are good. What flavor?"
"We have strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate," Specs replied.
"Chocolate! No. Vanilla. But strawberries are good! Do your strawberry milkshakes taste like real strawberries?" Dutchy shook his head. "Agh! Another decision."
"Okay, Dutch," Specs smiled patiently. "I'm going to get you one of each kind, okay?"
Dutchy nodded eagerly. "Okay!"
But when Specs handed them to him, he frowned. "What am I supposed to do with three milkshakes?"
Specs groaned. "Drink them! Just… go sit down." Dutchy returned to his seat, pondering which of the three milkshakes he should drink out of first.
"Chocolate… vanilla… strawberry. Right? Yes. Brown… white… pink!" Dutchy tapped each of them on the lid, cocking his head sideways. "Too hard to choose." He shrugged, and picked up three straws. Putting them all in their respective flavors, he tried to suck on them all at once.
"Ugh. Doesn't work." He turned to the counter. "Spppppeeeeecccccssss!"
"What?!"
"I can't drink them!"
"Dutchy…" Specs rolled his eyes. "Go build a snowman."
