Disclaimer: I ALWAYS FORGET TO ADD THESE WHY. If I had a million dollars I would buy this show off Mondo Media in a heartbeat! But until then . . *grabs pioneer hat and goes to dig for gold*


The blanket thrown over Flippy's large form began to slide down his arm, dripping down the side of the couch and landing into a green heap on the carpeted floor. The veteran didn't seem to notice this, though, as he rubbed his nose and turned over so his back was facing the head of red hair kneeling down in front of the TV.

Flaky set her bowl of Fruit Loops down to the side of her as she settled down, her hair still frizzy and puffy from sleep. The large camouflage patterned shirt with 'Army Girl' written across the front was full of wrinkles and creases, its sleeves that were meant to only go past her shoulders hid her elbows from view, and the ends of it covering her crossed legs when she sat down. She reached up, the tip of her tongue protruding in concentration at stretching her hand far enoguh to push the power button for the television.

The gray screen lit up to show the dancing blobs of color that were singing about how everyone poops, the background set of a bathroom and one of the characters performing the tedious task.

Frowning, she leaned back and grabbed the control from where it had fallen from her friend's grasp. She turned her body back to the screen, fingers clicking the up button and switching from any show that didn't catch her interest to the next. None of the shows about talking animals or sea creatures just didn't intrigue or beckon her to watch them . . . –

'GOOOAAALLLL!'

Her finger froze on the button, interrupting her show surfing and pausing on the channel when she saw the wide field of grass and the players from each team chasing after a black and white ball.

Now this was something she'd gladly watch.

Not that she didn't find learning about the colon and the route the food you ate used to leave your body fun . . . she just preferred watching sports over educational kid's shows. It probably had to do with her being on the school's unofficial soccer team and being involved in at least three other sports for the town, the urge to see how the professionals played winning her over as she took example from them. Soccer just hooked her more than the Wiggle Waggles did, the intensity that each player showed bypassing the happy giggles of the paid people who wore the costumes.

She dropped the control and picked up her bowl, eyes glued to the screen and legs of the players as she raised the spoon to take a slurp of the milk, failing to catch any of the actual loops of colorful cereal. She was happily sucked what little amount of action there was in the sport, not paying attention to the man who sat up on the couch.

Flippy smacked his lips together and scratched his lower back, beret tossed onto the recliner next to the couch and his jacket hung on the coatrack in the hallway. He was clad in nothing but his black undershirt, dog tags, and army colored boxers – it was only Flaky who lived there so he had nothing to worry about. Privacy wasn't really huge on the duo; the only meaning it had in the household was the other had to knock before entering the bathroom, but anything else wasn't bothered with.

His drowsy green eyes drifted from the light in the kitchen, to the game going on the TV, to the small girl sitting in front of it, mouth opened and the bowl of cereal forgotten in her hands. Smiling, amused at the wideness and interest her eyes took on, he cleared his throat of all the scratchiness it held and said, "What are you doing this early?"

Always being an early riser himself, he hadn't expected the younger female to beat him to it that day, or any other day for the last few years.

Flaky snapped out of her television state, placed the bowl back to the ground, and lowered the volume for the set. "H-huh? Oh, I got bored of lying in bed doing nothing, so I came out here! You k-know, you talk in your sleep." She smiled at him, a bit of mischief stirring in the crimson orbs of hers that he, or really anyone, ever witnessed on the shy child. "How was your unicorn ride?"

"Well you talk about baseball while you nap," He muttered, worrying about how much he revealed about his ridiculously fluffy side. Had he brought up the penguins? Choosing to forget what they had been talking about, he stared at the screen, his thoughts exiting his mouth as he asked, "What's the point of this? A few men kicking around a ball while another man shouts Spanish words is supposed to be entertaining to you?"

Here he was, a twenty-two year old man asking an eight year old girl what the purpose of soccer was. What had his life been reduced to.

Before she could go on one of her famous speeches about the history, the rules, and the purpose of why the sport had been created for, Flippy shook his head for a never mind and did his best of combing through his messy hair using only his fingers. Most of the pieces that had clumped together during his sleep split apart, and that was enough to satisfy him as he got up from the couch, picked up the blanket, and folded it.

"You didn't have to get yourself cereal, Flaky, you know I could've made something for—"

"I think w-we have to buy something else to put out the fires," she interrupted, "because the one we have isn't working anymore. There was s-still some parts of the chicken that were hot, it could've burned the trash if you didn't step on it, remember?"
"Harsh," rubbing the back of his neck at the destroyed dinner from the night before, he got another idea for a suitable breakfast. "Anymore pieces of pizza left?" An almost suitable breakfast then.

Giggling, she shook her head, "I went to go check when I woke up and the box was all c-chewed up. Guess Pitch didn't like your cooking so much he didn't want to eat the burnt chicken, all the pizza was gone and there's sauce on the floor!"

"I should just kick his sorry butt out at night. He's getting too spoiled anyways," growling now that his one idea for a meal was gone, he was forced into the kitchen, opening cabinets and the fridge door to search for food. "You ate the last of the cereal, huh?"

"I was up f-first so it was mine! Hey!" Flaky climbed over the cushions of the couch and lowered herself down from the back of it, running after him, her bare feet padding against the tile of the kitchen. "D-don't you remember promising that you wouldn't go into the kitchen today?"

"I have to eat Flakes."

Determined not to be undermined, she grabbed the tail of his shirt and pulled on it, using all of her strength and weight to drag him back out into the living room. "No! A promise is a p-promise! You can't break them Flippy! You have to do what you said you would!"

He sighed and let her pull him back out of the kitchen wondering when promises had gotten so serious. "What am I supposed to eat then?"

"Don't w-worry I'll find something! Just stay, stay!" Pointing a finger and staring at him until he sat back on the armrest of the couch, she skipped back to find any ingredients that would taste good mixed together. Anything she threw together would be better than whatever he made for himself, now all she had to do was find the things.

It struck her as a surprise when she opened the fridge and saw it was empty. Not just figuratively, that would mean that there was at least items of food hidden somewhere, but literally empty. There were only condiment bottles that they hadn't used since the last Fourth of July lining the wall of the door, a single moldy tortilla in a sandwich bag, and a forgotten jar of Clamato juice in the corner of the lowest shelf. Other than that, there was nothing edible in sight; certainly nothing that she would be able to use in a meal.

Abandoning it and searching through the cupboards and drawers she could reach, Flaky realized that her friend must have used every last crumb in the ruined dinner he had created. Or . . maybe he . . She crossed the floor to push open the cover of the trashcan, withholding a gag at the rotten smell. Of course, she should have expected him to throw away what he didn't use instead of wrapping it in foil or putting them in containers.

"F-Flippy?" She asked.

He was bending back and leaning to the side, trying to get a look at what she was doing. "Yeah?"

"Um, when are w-we going to go buy more food? Because I don't think we have anymore . ."

Flippy retracted at the word shopping, he had never cared for it is all, but the child had always managed to drag him to whatever store they needed to go. "Oh, uh, maybe in a week . . or whenever we can . . a month at the most?" Why did they need to go to the store? Splendid's house was two blocks away, they could always just raid his fridge and leave an I owe U note, that's what he wanted to do anyways.

She sighed. "O-okay." Looks like she was going to have to use what she found to make him a scrumptious breakfast, it wouldn't be much of a challenge.

Going back to the fridge, she took the condiments out of the shelf and hugged them to herself. Then she reached for the moldy Mexican roll, pinching an edge of the bag that the fungus hadn't made it to and pulled it out, rotating it in the air to see the growing green thing from all angles. Lastly, holding all the other ingredients in her left arm, she reached in and slid the Clamato juice out by its wrapper. Now that she had gathered everything she needed, she took a deep breathe in and stumbled to the island, face reddening from the heaviness of the load.

From the couch, the soldier heard the clattering of things being thrown on the island counter. "Flaky? You alright in there? You sure I can't help you?"

"N-no! Don't come in here! It's a s-surprise and you'll love it!"

Within minutes Flaky had spread out the ingredients for the future meal, arms at her sides, brainstorming breakfasts that they could be combined to make. She leaned backwards off the seat and grabbed the handle of a drawer, opening it and grabbing a new spoon from the group of utensils. She unscrewed the tops of the three bottles of ketchup, mustard, and relish as she dipped the spoon inside each of them, scooping a dollop of each and dumping it on the flattened tortilla. Its backside was used like a knife, mixing the three together and smearing it across the roll, and even covering up the parts that were moldy.

The colors had changed from their solid red, yellow, and green to create a brownish-green mixture, the bumps in it from the relish part. She didn't know that this was a very unappealing breakfast, she just knew that she was getting somewhere when all the mold was hidden and she had emptied the three containers of what they had held.

Setting the spoon on the napkin, she lowered herself from the seat and went to the sink where she picked a rather tall cup. This is where the hard part happened, she knew, placing the cup on the floor and grabbing the jar of the clam and tomato blend. When she had been pouring her milk it had already been empty, her using the last drops of it, and light weighing, but since neither of the two had ever drank from this bottle – it made her ask herself what Flippy had even been thinking when he bought it – it was still filled to the top and heavy.

Her arms trembled as she hesitantly tipped it on to the side, watching the stream of red juice spill into the cup, splashing up when it hit the flat bottom and speckling the rounded sides. She was biting her lip and reassuring herself that she could do this, she could pour the drink without any messes. The reassuring thoughts grew louder in her mind when the shaking in her thin arms grew more violent, the top of the bottle lowering to the ground despite her efforts of keeping it up.

"O-oh!" She winced when it slipped from her sweating palms, hit the edge of the cup, and dropped onto the floor. "O-oops . . !" The liquid quickly spread out onto the tiles and seeped in between each dip that separated the squares from each other until she picked it up, clutching it to her chest as she nibbled her lower lip. The remaining juice swished in the new empty space it had while she jumped over the mess and ran to the napkin holder.

Flippy had told her only a few times that she couldn't be making spills, never thinking it was necessary since she was a tidy child, but those warnings had been firm. How would he react to the spill!?

Sighing, the green haired man looked at the clock on the cable box beneath the television. "Flaky, it's been ten minutes, you sure you have this under control?"

"Eheheh! Y-yeah I do! If you come in r-right now it'll just spoil the surprise!" Flaky cried whilst throwing napkins over the spill, promising that she'd clean it up just as soon as she got his breakfast out to him. She grabbed what hadn't spilled out of the jar, refilled the cup and dried it, rolled up the tortilla, and ran out of the kitchen, standing in front of him with a shortness of breath. "S-see you didn't have to help me . ."

"I guess I didn't," he smiled, noticing how she put her hands behind her back to hide his surprise meal. "So, what'd you make me?"

"Close your eyes and hold out your hands and I'll give it to you!"

"Oooh a surprise," chuckling, he held both of his hands out, palms upwards, shutting his eyes. He suspected that she was going to hand him a sandwich, maybe even one of the snacks that she insisted he buy, but . . he really hadn't expected the squishy, cold thing that he was given.

"Ta da! Open your eyes!"

Already dreading what she had concocted, he cracked an eye open and looked down at his . . breakfast. His thumb was pressed against a patch of mold, holding the tortilla together, and he could see the oozing brown mush dripping from the open ends.

Flaky was a good cook for a child and she had made some pretty decent meals, but this . . was just plain out nasty looking. It looked like something he would make.

"What the he—" Seeing her large, hopeful eyes, he stopped and smiled weakly at her, lying through his teeth. "Er, thank you Flaky! This looks so good! How do you do it all the time? I can't wait to taste it. . . ."

Smiling and putting her hands on the couch, giving the full intensity of her stare to him, she squeaked, "R-really? I'm happy you like it! G-go on then, I want to see the look on your f-face when you take the first bite, please!" Her excitement of making something out of such unusual ingredients was bubbling up and brightening her face, eyes growing even larger, if that was possible.

He gulped, giving a huge, fake smile and giving a squeeze to it, some gunk spilling out and landing on his thigh. The trail of slime it left behind nearly made him shudder in front of the girl, but he kept his muscles tight as he nodded. "Sure, I can . . take a bite of this right now . . Mmm." His lips parted, the end of the roll raising to his chin, brushing against it, and touch ing the flesh of his bottom lip.

Eyes crossed and focused on one particularly threatening patch of green, his teeth came down slowly, gingerly biting down and tearing off the tiniest piece they were able to. It was lying flat on his tongue while he made a show of chewing the atom sized bite, adding an approved nod when it was gone, discreetly pushed up against the roof of his mouth.

"Wow! That was excellent. Just looking at this thing is making me full, actually, I think I am full. Such a waste of food, but I don't think I can eat another bite of this! . ."

"Sure y-you can!" Flaky giggled and was on the verge of pushing the rest into his face when the phone in the hall rung. Stopping, she looked at it. "I'll get it!" She took off and he could vaguely hear her greeting one of her friends while he snapped his eyes around the room, hurriedly trying to find a place to put the thing.

Throwing it up in his hands for fear that it was contaminated, he spat out the nibble he had taken and wiped his mouth on his arm. There was no way he was going to eat it, he would get food poisoning if he did, and he wasn't leaning on the idea of having stomach pains for days on end. He was whispering to himself where he could put it when he heard Flaky say, "Okay! I'll tell him! Bye Lammy!" the receiver being pressed down as she ended the call.

"Shoot." He had one idea where he could put the roll, and he couldn't think it over more than once since she was only two feet from running back into the living room – at most. Hearing her call his name, he shut his eyes, pulled the collar of his shirt out, and dropped the food into it, its filling squishing out and slathering against his chest. He had to clutch the couch with both hands to stop the convulsions of shudders as the girl speed back in and ran next to him, disappointment filling her face when she saw that she had missed him eating.

"A-aww . . I didn't see the l-look you had . . !"

"Don't worry, I don't think you missed out too much," he uttered, keeping a straight face instead of the grimace underlying it. "By the way, what did Lammy want?"

As if remembering what her close friend had told her, she gasped, not wanting to forget it. "Oh yeah! She asked me i-if I could go to her house later to play, can I? School's tomorrow and I d-don't want to wait until the weekend to go!"

Relief that she hadn't noticed the lump at the bottom of his shirt washing over him, Flippy nodded, "Why not? It sounds fine to me, call her in a bit and say that I said you could go."

"Y-yay! Thanks Flippy!" She blinked once, grabbing the cup off the armrest and swishing the juice inside, then holding it out to him, asking in all her innocence of not knowing what he had done with the breakfast, "D-don't you want to drink something? I like drinking stuff with my breakfast, and maybe you d-do too? Here!"

He eyed the cup of the blended drink, silently crying on the inside, and took it from her with a pleasant smile. "Thanks . ." Staring down in it and seeing his disgusted expression reflected back at him, he didn't even bother to turn away from her as he pinched his nose, tilted his head back, and drained the cup of its long ago expired drink, nearly gagging at the taste.

When he had ingested the last drop, he set it to the side, mouth puckered and expression queasy. "Thanks for the breakfast Flaky, I could really taste the clams." Adding 'Go to the market to buy more food that would actually be edible' to his to-do list.


So I named his dog Pitch because Crystal and I agreed that the devil dog that Cub got in that one mini show was actually Flippy's (c:) and it was set off by high pitched things like whistling. Yeah . . I don't know about the name but . . whatever. This turned out longer than I thought, woooo. Too lazy to proofread this, but I will one day when I'm not tired.

In response to htffan951: *shrugs* no Flippy isn't her dad he's just her guardian, and the reason for her not having parents may just be something small like I'm not even sure these kids are supposed to have parents (even if I gave Petunia and Sniffles moms xD) or . . I'll let you think on that. It may or may not be revealed in later chapters C: