Here's the thing about life. You never know what's going to happen, who you'll meet or even how it will turn out. Even more so when you think you know everything and then something or, in your Uncle Barney's case, someone! will come by and change all that. But, to know the rest of that story, I have to tell you another.
Arnie Stinson, by any other means, was just like Barney. A child who had a loving family for what he could believe. A con man with a love for own desires, and a sketchy career no one close to him could even begin to understand. But again, Arnie was NO Barney!
The loving family he knew only existed in the television. The cons he pulled were more threatening than for sport or catching a lovely young woman and the sketchy career he chose was more crooked than signing a few papers and has sent him to jail more times than anyone could count on both hands together.
Arnie grew up with a drunken father, one who had a bad reputation with police and should never have been allowed to handle any blunt or potentially dangerous instruments. The vague memories he had of a mother and siblings were simply passing thought, but they were only thoughts that helped him wake up every morning for all the days of his life. He could recall every detail of every morning to his evening routines of living with his father clearly to this day.
Eight A.M. he'd awake to a hoarse voice, if he wasn't already up, of a drunken man he called "father" standing in his doorway with a half empty beer bottle in his hand. By the smell lingering from his breath, he could tell it wasn't the first or last. He always wore the same clothing, regardless of color or pattern. He'd wear a flannel shirt in black and red to a dark coal and indigo. Somehow the pockets were always torn and ripped and there were always cigarette burns located somewhere on his rolled up sleeves. There were so many nights he had to take the cancer stick out of his old man's hands when he fell asleep watching the television in his lazy boy, just so he wouldn't set fire to himself or the house and his pants were always sagging like he never possessed a belt. They were discolored and stained with grass, oil and dirt. The hems were tattered and shredded. This man he called "father" reached 6'0" even and possibly weighed between 250 and 300 lbs. His face was always read as if he had been crying and cheeks were puffy yet narrow at the same time. He had buzz cut hairstyle with gray everywhere from his goatee and mutton chops to the hair on his head, nose, and ears.
He'd kick the child a few times with what he called "love taps" to the gut. Once to get him up, two times to make sure he stayed up, and a third just to show that he could.
"Time for breakfast you little shit!" He'd say with a sour voice. Although, you'd think the food was already cooked and ready to eat; you'd be wrong. Arnie was expected to make eggs, toast and coffee, wash dishes, shower, iron both of their clothes and go to school; and if something was wrong he was expected to figure it out and fix it. "And don't be late!"
However, between 7 and 8 am he should have already been at school and in class, but due to a lack of proper parenting and time, he only knew when to get up by the time his dad came into the house. After this became a regular occurrence for an uncountable number of times, the school board, truancy and child protective services eventually became involved, but only made some of the matters worse for Arnie in the beginning. Until proper channels helped get him out of his care and into custody. But this took some time, as Arnie would not speak and neither would his dad.
Since the father could barely manage to pay his bills on time, arranging to make breakfast was even more of task. All he could hope for was waiting for him to fall asleep in his chair, waiting on food to be done. Then he could sneak a quick and cold shower, search through his basket of clothes from his limited apparel, then rush out the back door and walk about 1 mile to school.
Once there, a little after 10, some of his concerned teachers would ask questions, but he said nothing. So he was allowed to take his seat in the back of the class quietly, while his peers snickered and stared in his direction making idle laughter. He'd try to follow along the rest of the way in his books but had a hard time. He could barely keep up since he rarely had the opportunity to do his homework, which was needed to understand the work in front of him.
If he was lucky, he made it in time for lunch which was at 10:45 am. This was the highlight of his day. He looked forward to the choices in spaghetti or taco and jello or fruit cup and definitely loved his milk and juice. He often had to steal money out of his dad's wallet to eat, but this was one thing he often got away with since he normally spent money literally every night on alcohol and very little food. He could never seem to recall where it all went at times.
Arnie would find himself sitting in the back of the cafeteria eating alone. He did manage to make one friend though, a mouse he named Mickey that took refuge in their school. He would sometimes give him crust off his bread when he saw him and have little talks. He imagined when he took off running with the food he gave him, he was running back to feed his family and tell them of the nice boy he met and share stories with them. That was until the school janitor realized he existed a few weeks later. Then one day he was caught, found dead in a mouse trap. Arnie was sad at first but was left to face an inevitable truth, that anything he truly cared for would eventually leave him in some form or another. Such a sad tale for a child to learn so young.
Once school ended for the day he got on the bus and sat quietly alone. Kids left him be and called him names like "dirty" and "weird", even bullies wanted nothing to do with him though. At home, he could expect one of two things to happen. First option was his old man slumped down in his chair, quiet and watching TV. He'd then see him and say "make us something to eat".
Now 9 times out of 10 if there was food for breakfast, there was something for dinner. So he'd reach in the cabinet and see what he could make. It most likely would come out of a can such as: beef stew or chicken and dumplings. So he'd open it up, put it in a pot on the stove and let it warm. Then he would grab a slice of bread from off the counter and place 1 slice on each of the plates. Finally he would grab some milk out the fridge for him and a beer his dad, but he never ate with Arnie. Never asked how was he doing or about school. He didn't care that he could barely read or had hardly any clothes to wear. And he definitely never mentioned his mother. Although once Arnie did get the courage to ask and his father became red in the face. He swore he'd let him have it. Instead though, he grabbed his coat and just left for a few drinks, by the time he returned in the morning he acted like nothing happened and started the cycle all over again. When dinner was over he cleaned their spoons and plates, take his bath and go to bed. Unless his father had to work then he'd watch TV until he was ready to fall asleep.
The second choice was not as easy. His father would be standing in the doorway waiting on his son to get home, once inside the he'd catch a fist to the shoulder blade and arm and then kicked to the floor.
"Next time I better see something to eat before you go." It was an age old story he grown used to. He'd tried before explaining there was no food but in his father eyes there were no excuses. He felt the wrath of his belt against his body wherever it landed and as long as he had the breath to do it. So quiet and a few punches was better than the alternative. He'd then began to pick himself up and bathe before he found himself in his room, groveling in pain and weeping as quiet as possible not to disturb or disgust his father.
Once the school could no longer ignore the child who could barely make it to school on time or the rumors he was being abused. They searched for facts, only to find out some stuff was far more disturbing. Such as that he slept on a stained cot on the floor, he barely had a change of clothes and possessed nothing recreational, except two toys he found on the school playground. Other things like him not being able to read properly at his grade level played a major factor too, test scores were low and he'd never turned in a single assignment.
Now with the information they had, he was taken from the man who barely cared and he was placed in police custody for child abuse and neglect. He went from being with the man who barely cared at all to people he knew didn't.
The foster homes mom, called Mod for some peculiar reason, had a number of children of her own and agreed to take him in. But, she cared not and showed no compassion or love to Arnie in the slightest. She didn't bother to buy him new clothes but gave him hand me downs. Though the food was better and he wasn't expected to cook. But, she didn't bother to buy him toys and suggested he kept his mouth shut because he could end up in far worse place than hers. The upside however was her children, particularly her daughter Alice.
Alice was very sweet and always nice to him. She brought him toys often, even if they were dolls and teacups. She liked to sneak him snacks too after Mod refused to give him any. They were the same age yet very different. Alice was a prodigy and had several scholarships, she was attending an all-girls academy where she received better education and friends. She even taught him how to read properly and helped him on class assignments and homework.
As time went on for almost 2 years he was happy and infatuated with Alice. They even had their first kiss with each other. However, Mod felt they were getting too close and didn't want him ruining her daughter's life. She decided his time with her family was over and called his social worker. She then lied to them and said he was a menace and caused her nothing but grief lately. He was lewd and inappropriate often all the times, and even made a sexual pass at her daughter. When asked about pressing charges,she simply replied no and she only wanted him gone", and so gone he was.
After that it went all downhill, 6 foster homes and he had cared for none. He was now an empty shell and found his feelings were almost nonexistent. At 18 he was a burden and drain on the system to everyone including his social worker. So when he was no longer in the care of anyone. He dropped out of school and hung out with some other people like him. A pollution to the city and parasite to society.
These guys became his family and everyone was treated the same. Whatever they wanted, they got. His closet allies were Trac, PJ, and Busta. They did anything and everything from stealing to grand theft at the time, going to bigger jobs the older they got. Trac, was a roughneck redhead with freckles, his forehead stretched way too far out and although he was the oldest at 23, he was the smallest standing at 5'7. As the oldest member he got the group alcohol and cigarettes. PJ (also known as Peanut Butter and Jelly) was the biggest of their crew, 5'9 but 223 lbs, he had curly black hair and loved track suits at 20 his thing was lifting. If anyone wanted anything with or without sensors, he was the guy to go to. No one understood how but he got it done. And Busta was 19, he was 6'2 and the pretty boy type. Nice smile, green eyes and blonde hair. He always worked out and stayed in shape. His thing was women. He loved them more than anything and they loved him back; if he ever needed anything they were more than happy to help him: money, clothes, shoes, anything. Age didn't matter either, the older the better. He even had a stripper friend once, named Candy she'd sneak them in the club for free when the owner was in the back counting and as long as she gave Vincent the bouncer favors now and again he'd look the other way.
Arnie, well he was the youngest and had nothing really to offer. He could get drugs but so could the rest of the guys. So what was he mostly sufficient at? Threats. Just because of his age he wasn't to be taken lightly. He didn't care about your weight or age. Who you knew or where you came from. Cross him or any of his friends and he'd beat you to an inch of your life and not bat an eye. He wasn't so much the bravest or strongest, just the one who gave the least fucks. He was even sent to Juvie for a small time after running away from his last foster home. He was 17 and already caught a battery and assault charge, but due to his age the charges were dropped and it never landed on his record. He didn't stop, he just managed to never get caught again.
Now to get to the story presently. We'd have to skip a decade or so. Fast forwarding to the year 2013. We come across Arnie again at a gentlemen's club called Masquerade co-owned by Busta. Thanks to the help of the ladies and group, he managed to set up a somewhat flourishing and legal business.
"Hey Arnie, some fatso came by the club looking for you." Busta said to his longtime friend. He was sat down at a table in the back of the club in the small office space, watching his girls on the security camera. It was Valentine's Day at the club and the men love to get extra feely this time around. He had to make sure that they were safe. "He said you might be interested in what he had to say."
"Did he say what it was about?" Arnie sat down on the table in the office across from his friend, grabbing a piece of hard candy out of the bowl next to him. He unwraps it and places the caramel flavored sugary sweet in his mouth and begins to suck.
"Nope, just that he'd be back by at 5." Busta leans back in his seat and counts his money. "I told him that's when you're likely to be in."
Arnie continues to suck on the candy "Well whatever he's looking for, I don't have it."
"How do you know he's looking for something?"
"I don't, but that PJ's field anyway."
Busta chuckles "Maybe PJ stole his scale."
"Or maybe you stole his girl."
"Aye, only chicks I touch are the non-married kind."
"What are you talking about? Half your girls have husbands."
"Yeah and those are the ones I don't touch, I have standards."
"And plus Bunny would kick your ass"
"And I'd let her"
Then there's a knock at the door. Busta looks on the security cam to see that it's Bunny, his best girl. She was dressed like a giant bow and wearing a red wig. That was his thing about Masquerade. No one was allowed to give their real names and everyone was to be in a costume of some kind. Wigs, Mask or outfits, club rules. Kept the girls safe and it went with the theme for the club: every girl was a mystery.
Bunny was his favorite girl though, blue eyes, normally dark black hair, and cola figure, 5'8 with a long set of legs with 38Ds to match and just the right amount of makeup.
"Speak of the devil". He buzzed her in.
"Hey Busta, Valentine feeling a little queasy tonight, I'm thinking of telling her to go home, what you think?"
"Anything you think is good babe." smiles Busta biting down on his lip staring at Bunny's body. The Ribbon like outfit was wrapped around her breasts and covered her backside and frontal area like a thong." OK, I'll tell Cupid to take her place. Oh Arnie there's a guy here for you sitting at table 12" as she takes her leave Busta looks into camera 5 seating tables 10 thru 15 and sure enough…
"Yup that's the guy that was here earlier."
Busta points towards a tall boding man with a low haircut and beer in his hand sitting down to watch the show.
"You mean Big Gray in the leather jacket and Cosby look alike sweater?" Arnie asks, not recognizing the guy.
"Yup that's him, want me to call Trac or something?" Busta reaches for the phone.
"No, I got him just watch me" his hand stretched out over the phone to stop his friend.
"Let me see what he wants." Arnie walks to the floor where the strippers are chatting up guests and giving them lap dances, men focus firmly on their bodices but knowing they can't touch was the hardest effort but the club's biggest rule. There's smoking everywhere, men shouting and throwing their hard earned cash with explicit music playing loudly in the speakers. The strobe lights are flashing with multiple colors of the spectrum over the walls. He walks straight to the gentlemen that's staring off at the catwalk watching Chocolate take the stage. A very beautiful mixed chick who looked like Halle Berry and wearing chocolate covered edible bras and panties.
Once he approaches the table, he grabs the chair from another and sits on it backwards.
"Heard that you were looking for me! " Arnie yells as best as he can, getting his words across the noise.
"Yea Arnie Stinson, correct?" he asks, not taking his eye off the stage.
"Why?" He raises a brow, "who wants to know?"
"I'm going to the John, follow me." The guy stands up and proceeds to the restroom. Arnie looks at the camera and signals a 1 and 2 on his fingers, which was a code they came up with to watch the bathroom door. He then gets up and follows the guy.
In the bathroom, the smell of piss hung thick in the air .Traces of TP was on the floor and the lights flickered on and off, as in the scene of some scary movie. The man's standing at the urinal and is taking a leak.
"Ah god, 2 beers and I'm running like a faucet." he groans
"I've never met you before that I recall." Arnie inquires. He's never been one for small talk.
"Straight to it I see." the guy chuckles. " he zips his pants and flushes. Then walks towards him. Arnie gets in a fighting stance.
"Chill out Otto." he reaches over for the soap "You mind? You're kind of in the way." Arnie moves, and he reaches over to the dispenser. Pushes a few pumps. Then turns on the water and proceeds to wash his hands for 3 minutes. Making sure to clean under his nails, between the fingers and gets a good lather worked out.
"Are you gonna start anytime soon?" Arnie asks, getting irritated.
"It's called hygiene. I don't know about you, but I'm very big on it." says the man. He grabs a couple of paper towels and dries off his hands before throwing them in the trash can.
"First off I'm Charlie, it's nice to meet you Mr. Stinson." He reaches his hand out for a shake. Arnie, skeptical at first but then decides to shake his hand quickly and then lets go.
"Now for business, this may take some time for me to explain. I don't like to be interrupted and I'm not answering questions. All I'm looking for is a yes or no answer when I'm done." He said with a very serious demeanor.
Arnie, confused by the man's audacity to talk to him in such a manner, almost made him lose it but, then he suddenly had his interest and ears.
"Go on" Arnie says.
"Excellent, again this may take time. I won't be answering questions since I don't have the proper ones to give you, only what's in the folder." He pulls out a large folder containing documents of some kind and he was pretty sure photos.
"I will tell you what you need to know and what I can. You look thru these files and decide if what I'm saying is correct and valuable enough to borrow your time. After that we'll come to the agreement of monetary funds, what we want and how we expect everything to go." He pauses "Again, are we in at an understanding?" Again Arnie shakes his head.
"Alright then." he clears his throat and cracks his neck side to side. "My name is Charlie, that is all you will call me. Your name is Arnie Stinson, born July 23, 1975 in Port Richmond, Staten Island; though you were probably told different in an effort to hold you back a grade and keep your identity hidden. Your parents are Loretta Stinson and Jerome Whittaker. You were believed to be the child of Robert Moss the man who raised you, however, this is not the case. Your mother had slept with multiple partners. The man she got with believed he fathered two boys you and your twin brother Barney. For some time you were all together and quite happy until you got sick and needed a blood transfusion, your 'father' Mr. Moss offered his blood to save you. When it came back you weren't a match this could only mean you weren't his child. Out of hate, outrage, anger, denial and pretty much just to piss off and get back at your mom. Mr. Moss took you from your loving mom and brothers and raised you as an only child. He beat you senseless as a resentment to the woman he loved and trusted. He continued to raise you from ages 3-10. The fact you survived his brutality that many years is beyond me I mean, the shit you must have been through." he shakes his head and pauses for an instant almost upset and in disbelief.
"Anyways, after he was sent to prison serving a 30 year sentence for more than child abuse and neglect obviously. He came across my cousin Tony who use to be your brothers boss. He told him everything we now know. You keeping up so far?" He asks. Arnie was in a daze and trying to keep up but the man named Charlie was putting him at a disadvantage, none of this could be real, yet he knew his childhood as if he was there, he shakes his head as to agree.
"Good, now Mr. Stinson, my cousin is a lucrative business man like your friend Busta, all he ever did was help our family and for that he was betrayed by "your brother". What we're seeking is retribution. Now, you have a few charges against you. What we'd like is for you to go to New York, take your brother's place and send him to prison in yours. With a few extras padded in there. Where offering $100,000 dollars to get you started, obviously a new wardrobe and look and a chance to meet the family you didn't know. Whether you get revenge or just play the good son. Is entirely up to you. All we need is a yes or no. I'll give you until closing to think it over." As he prepares to walk off, he stops and asks.
"Quick question, why Valentine 's Day in July and not an independent day theme?" Arnie wanted to say it was random theme that was chosen by the ladies but he couldn't mutter anything. "It's fine I'll ask the girls" and walks off.
Baffled and lost He takes a minute to get his thoughts together. What just happened? he asks himself over and over again. His hands shaking, body trembling as he goes to open the envelope. Inside are birth, dental and criminal records. It also had a forged birth certificate changing the dates he was older by two years. Pictures of him, blood information, mother's maiden name and his real fathers and his two brothers: Including his likeness, Barney Stinson.
He realized how happy he looked. The blonde hair, the smile, suits, and surrounded by people, friends perhaps. And one woman he was kissing and then sees a Marriage license. Suddenly everything falls out of his hands. He doesn't know why, they just fell to his feet. Documents and pictures of everyone including Alice who he hadn't seen in years. Not since they were 12. Smiling in her window, laughing actually.
Why did they want his brother so bad? Then thinks,brother? What brother? Where was he when he needed a friend or where was he to take the punches and emotional, mental and physical abuse? And mom, why the hell didn't she look for him? Where the fuck was everyone when he needed them? Suddenly the loss and hopelessness he felt was gone and replaced by anger and fury. So, he walked over to Charlie, after getting the papers together and says : "Yes!" And throws the folder on the table. Then sits down and asks.
"What do you need me to do?" With that they set things in motion.
His hair color was dyed and given a fresh cut, they gave him a range of suits of Armani, Dolce and even Gucci. And proper classes on Barney's life. From the name of his friends and hangouts to his mannerisms. When ready they sent him to New York and had him follow his twin. Which led to an encounter where he found himself behind the alley of a bar called MacLaren's Pub. Here he found Barney faced away from him and puking. He slowly approaches.
"Oh, buddy, you ok?" He asks inching closer and closer.
Without looking up Barney answers.
"Not even close." He feels a smug smile coming on.
"That sucks!" he says placing his hand on his shoulder. He leans and whispers , " because it's about to get much worse." He then jabs the needle given to him by Charles into the unknowing Barney Stinson. As he falls to his feet and into his own waste. A van pulls up and a few guys working with him throw Barney into the van where his hair is washed and dyed,clothes changed and a tattoo just like his own of AC/DC, is placed on his chest.
He calls in a tip to the cops that the man named Arnie Stinson has been seen entering a motel. A few hours later after proper warrants are put together. He exists in custody with the policemen and is hauled off.
"So long," he smiles, " Brother."