Ok here's the next chapter! Thanks to Nittanylizard for helping me figure Mike out! Seriously, he does have that "The World Hates Me" thing going on. Thanks again.

Now, on with the shoe!

Chapter 3

"Michael?"

I groaned. I thought all that dream shit was over with.

"Go away, Mom," I growled and someone laughed.

"She's not your mom. She's my mom."

I opened my eyes and blinked at a kid less than an inch from my face. He was smiling at me and I was pretty shocked I hadn't shoved him half way across the room before having a cussing fit. He leaned forward and pecked me on the nose before climbing into my chair. Well, at least something in this dream wasn't fucked completely; that was my chair. I blinked and looked around the room. There were cartoons on the TV, which was ok because that happened every Saturday morning. Man, I must have only got an hour of sleep after that midnight shift.

The kid giggled and I snapped my attention back to him. Here I was thinking about work when I had this little…thing kissing my nose like I was his fucking teddy bear. What the fuck was going on? Whose kid was that anyway?

"Dad! Breakfast!"

I looked over at where there was a mirror image of the kid who kissed me standing in the entranceway to another room. He was covered in flour and had a spoon in his hand. I blinked and looked back over at the other little kid and realized they weren't exactly the same. The other kid was taller, older, and had lighter hair than the one who was sitting in my chair.

"Come on, Daddy!" the one from my chair demanded, getting up and tugging on my hand. "Mommy already called you, too."

Dad? Daddy? Mommy? What the fuck?

I was a little too out of it to stop the kid from pulling me into the dining room where there were pancakes on the table with bacon and juice. I stared at it for a moment and wondered where the hell the table had come from. I didn't recognize anything in the room. Well, until a moment later, that is.

"'Morning, Mike," Layne greeted, carrying a batch of scrambled eggs into the room.

"Layne," I replied, "What's this?"

"Breakfast," she answered, raising an eyebrow at me.

She'd grown the blonde out of her hair and had it tied back in a ponytail. Her hands were on her hips and she was fat. Really fat. Wait,no, not fat. Pregnant.

"You're pregnant," I pointed out and she smiled.

"Glad you finally caught on, genius," she replied, coming over to kiss me.

Now, this wasn't a kiss on the cheek or the chin or forehead. This was a full mouth kiss that had me frozen in place. What the fucking hell was going on?

"Come on; the boys cooked this morning just for us."

I nodded and slipped into a chair in a daze. The younger kid stood beside me and gave me a glare I swear I knew from somewhere.

"Daddy, that's my chair."

I jumped up and he sat down in the chair like he was magnetized to it. I looked and made sure everyone else was sitting down before taking the empty chair at the head of the table. Everyone dug in then. Layne leaned over as far as her belly would let her and put food on the younger boy's plate. She cut up the pancake as the little boy nattered on about the cartoons. She smiled like she'd never been so happy. It was nice.

It still didn't make sense, but…nothing had this morning, especially my dreams. I frowned, trying to remember something about the one with my mom in it.

It all came back to me and I set my fork down.

'You have one week to see what a life with love can be like…'

No fucking way.

So my happy place was stealing Layne from Darry and proceeding to knock her up with at least three kids? I could see the simplicity of it and putting Darry in his place was obviously a plus. But 2.5 kids? That I could do without. Just look at the little one. He was already covered in syrup.

Oh, I got it now. This was another one of those fucked up dreams. When I woke up for real, I was tossing all the booze in the house.

"Sticky!" The younger one showed me his gleaming fingers and I cringed.

"Good for you," I replied, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

The older one was staring at me. Fuck, blink already, kid!

"Hey Dad? We're going to the garage today, right?" the older one asked and I frowned.

"I thought this was my day off."

"You promised!" The kid couldn't be any older than eight or nine and he had his mother's sad look.

"I…"

"Mike, kitchen," Layne directed and I knew better than to argue with her, so I went into the damn kitchen. "Boys, hum."

"Ok, Mommy."

The younger one started to hum loudly and I groaned. I was going to have a dream headache before long. I let my eyes examine the kitchen then for lack of anything else to do. It was painted yellow with white cabinets and there were plants everywhere. There was art all over the fridge and I took the opportunity to go over and look at the paintings. One was of the family and it was labeled. Thank you, Lord.

'Mommy, Daddy, Daniel, Me.' The bottom of the paper said Gabriel. So we had kids. Daniel and Gabriel. I looked at another picture on the fridge and was shocked. There was a picture labeled 'Mommy' and an arrow at her belly labeled 'Baby Sprinkles'. Now, the Curtis' may have gone for the goofy names, but I knew for a fact that if we already had kids named Dan and Gabe we were not going to call one Sprinkles. Sounded like some demented poodle. No kid of mine – delusional, whacked out dream or no – was going to go through life with the name Sprinkles.

"Sprinkles?" I asked and Layne crossed her arms over her chest.

"He's trying to be helpful. I recall last week you thought 'Oreo' was quite clever."

Oreo? Fuck me again.

"Quit avoiding the subject. You told Dan you'd take him to the garage today like you do every month. They love seeing Jack and Steve and Sodapop. And Tell says it's good for you."

"Tell says?" I asked with a raised brow.

"Stop it," she ordered, throwing a towel at me that felt pretty damn real "You know quite well he took those psych courses just so he could help you."

"I don't need help." It was more of a question than a statement.

"Baby," she sighed, seeming to give up, "We have this argument all the time. You're fine as long as you're nowhere near that DX. I know getting shot was not a great experience…"

Shot. My right hand traced under the shirt over my chest, feeling raised scar tissue from where something had damaged my chest. A bullet. I had the sinking feeling this wasn't a dream.

"…But who you were before that bullet…I know you hate hearing that, but you've come so far." She glared at me then and I resisted the urge to back away. "If going to the DX for half an hour every month helps just a little bit more, then so be it. You use Dan and Gabe as your excuse and I'm ok with that. So go back in there, eat your breakfast, and tell him you're going to the garage today or, so help me, I will drag you down there and handcuff you to the counter for a week. Do I make myself clear?"

Now, you all remember that John Wayne movie where his wife scares the living hell out of him but he tries to act like he wasn't intimidated? Well, that could be any movie he was married to Maureen O'Hara in, but that's not the point. My point is that I was John Wayne. Layne scared the shit out of me and I was convinced she was wearing the pants around here. What was I supposed to do? She was pregnant! I couldn't do anything to her and there were kids in the next room who thought I was their dad. So I nodded like a good little trained husband and made my way back to where the boys were sitting. Neither bothered to look up and I wondered if this was commonplace.

"Don't worry, Dad. You always say Mom will be better once the baby comes." Dan shrugged. "At least then she stops randomly crying."

Ripping my balls off and randomly crying? I had the feeling life with a pregnant wife was not a simple one. And this was turning out to be worse than living with her with someone else as the boyfriend. Who was Mom kidding? How the hell could this be a happy life? I was obviously phobic of the DX, Tell was treating me like a pet, and the kids were comfortable with all of it.

I've said it more times than I can count and I'll say it again; Fuck me.

I have to say that the worst part of all of this was that playing along brought better results than breaking character as I learned in the kitchen. So, after breakfast, Dan and I climbed into the Buick I apparently drove and headed for the DX. Well, in the general direction I hoped it was in as I tried to make heads or tails of where I was. We still lived in Tulsa, but this was far from the same neighborhood I remembered. Maybe it was the middle class end of town or something. After driving around for about ten minutes under Dan's scrutinizing look, I knew this was just pointless.

"Don't tell me the damn thing disappeared," I muttered.

"You need to take the next right, Dad," Dan directed and I was silently grateful for the interruption to my internal monologue of curses against every deity I could think of.

"So, ninth birthday coming up?" I asked, partly to make conversation and partly to get information.

"That was in April," he informed me with a look I couldn't read.

"Wow, that's close to our anniversary."

"That was the month after. May 10th."

"Right. I knew that."

"Dad, are you feeling ok?" he asked and I nodded. "You never forget things."

"I'm just tired, Donny."

"Danny!"

"Gotcha," I added and he seemed to smile like he appreciated the joke.

It was a good thing someone appreciated it…I'd apparently been fucking married for at least ten fucking years. What the hell had I done to deserve this?

I caught sight of a familiar house and managed to make my way to the DX. It took forever and I was sure we didn't live on the east side anymore. But the DX looked exactly the same as it did last night or however long ago it was I worked there. We got out of the car and Dan ran right into the convenience part of the store. I sighed and went after him, but came up short when I heard a muffled curse coming from the garage. Someone was bent over a Mustang, but it wasn't a model I recognized. Of course it wouldn't be. I was ten or eleven odd years in the future and my luck was as poor as my old man on a binger. But I could tell they hadn't changed the mechanics that much in the last…yeah. You get the point.

"God Damnit! There is no reason for the fucking engine light to be on."

It hit me then that I had no idea who this new person was. And why that was surprising is beyond me. It had been one fucked up trip so far.

"Try tightening the valve on the cooling system," I suggested. "It looks loose."

"Listen, buddy…"

The guy turned around and stopped mid-sentence. I was a little shocked myself. I did know the guy, or I did once upon a time. Curly Shepard was all grown up. His hair was short enough so it wasn't curling around his ears and he was most definitely shaving every day now. He looked like he was living clean at least. It made me wonder what had gone on with everyone in so many years. I expected him to be dead by now.

"Hi Mike. Is it the first already?" he asked and I shrugged. Like I had any idea what day it was.

"Close enough. No work today," I added and he nodded.

"So you think it's the coolant valve?"

"Yeah."

Curly threw me a doubtful look and I raised an eyebrow at him.

"What? Don't believe me?" I asked and he shook his head.

"The last time Jack let you fiddle with a car you ended up hitting the engine with a wrench a couple dozen times," he said and I blinked. "So 'scuse me if I have my doubts."

"Quit talking and just do it," I ordered and he turned backaround to the Mustang.

"Since when are you interested in cars, anyways?" he asked. "Is this another one of Doc Tell's trial cures?"

Trial cures? Did I even want to know? Probably not…

"Just shut up and start the fucking thing."

Curly threw me a dirty look before doing as he was told. The car started up, purring like no horse I'd ever seen, but sounding healthy enough. Curly gaped at me through the windshield and stepped out of the car.

"I'll be damned. You make sure to tell Doc Tell he's finally got it. After ten years he finally got it."

Oh, for the love of…

"Tell didn't do shit. Anyone could have picked up on a loose coolant valve," I snapped before turning through the garage and into the main building of the DX.

Now, I wasn't brain dead. I got it, ok? That night at the DX had scared me or this version or me deep down and nothing seemed to help after ten years and my other self who had lived all this was obviously frustrated. I must have been pretty fucked up for them all to think Doc Tell was my only hope to get through the fucking day. Afraid of the DX? Useless with cars? Oh, when all this ended I was putting in a colorfully worded complaint to whoever came up with this shit.

"Dad!" Dan called when he saw me. "Grandpa Jack says I need a proper education."

I glanced at Jack. He looked older than I thought he would have in ten years. His hair was silver all the way though and his posture showed the age of a man who had worked harder than he should have had to every day of his life. Yeah, Grandpa was appropriate.

"Probably do for all I know," I muttered, walking past him into the main store. "How's tricks, Jack?"

"Would be better if Curly would give his head a shake. Damn kid hasn't had his head in the game for a couple months now."

"Missing simple stuff like loose valves?" I asked and Jack nodded.

"I've talked to him a couple times and I don't want to fire the kid after everything, but he's not worth keeping on at the moment."

After everything. The last thing I remembered was Curly Shepard looking over the counter at me after Stupid had shot me. Yeah, there was definitely a big part of the story missing.

"Hell, blame Sylvia. She makes every man's life hell and Curly was the only one dumb enough to marry her," Steve stated coming out of the office with a couple receipts in his hand. "Hey, Mike."

"Sylvia Jones?" I asked, feeling my brow furrow.

Sylvia had always been a tramp, but she often went for guys like Dally who had reps. If she started in on other guys, it was to get his attention. I guess she must have figured she had few options for guys after all the stunts she'd pulled over the years.

"Hasn't been that for six years. I'm surprised they've lasted that long." Steve shook his head.

"Well, marriage is work," I offered, hoping that was the right thing to say. I personally had no fucking idea.

"Tell me about it. Speaking of which, Chely wanted me to make sure to remind you to bring the potato salad for Friday."

"What's Friday?" I asked and Steve rolled his eyes at me.

"The Fourth of July," Jack answered. "Only the biggest holiday get together of the year."

"It's awesome, Dad," Dan put in, hopping up on the counter beside where Jack was leaning on it.

"You, me, Sodapop, Darry, Two-Bit, Johnny, the girls and the kids in one back yard barbequing the hell out of dead cow," Steve said with a smile. "Add on a couple brewskies and we're set."

Steve had changed a little over the years, apparently. There was a wife and kids in his life and he wasn't screwing around with his curls anymore. He was calmer and seemed like he was more at peace or something. I couldn't place it, but things seemed to be going good for Steve Randle. Maybe everyone does have to grow up at some point.

"I'll be there then."

Did I really have a choice? Mom said I was stuck here for a week. Deviating from the plan got things thrown at me by my pregnant and moody wife. Might as well spend my sentence here getting along with everyone instead of getting into fights. Besides, Steve said there would be potato salad and Beer. How bad could it be? Knowing my luck I was fucked.

Any comments at all are welcome and flames accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!!!

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