A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update this, the web site wouldn't let me upload anything for a few days. Anyway, it's a pretty long chapter (for me) so it should help make up for the hole my absence left in your heart.

When they got back from the hospital, Darry said, "Now, Pony, I don't want to see you move from that bed until the doctor says it's ok."

Dally seemed perplexed, "He was shot seventy-three times just this evening and the doctor let him go home!"

"Well, we've got a good amount of bandages."

"Everyone is crazy," Dally muttered.

"What's that," asked a random llama.

"Or maybe I'm crazy," he amended.

"You're probably just drunk," said Tim.

"Why are you always here, Tim?" asked Soda.

"Who knows?" was Tim's snappy reply.

"Ooh, snappy," said Soda.

Dally began to feel very bored, 'Why am I here?' he thought, 'I seem to always be hanging around at the Curtis' house, as if I don't have a life of my own. The author probably only puts me here in order to have someone to comment on all the idiocy. God, this whole story—I was going to say plot but realized there wasn't one—is so contrived. I hate my life'

"What's that, Dally?" asked Two-Bit, who was also there for some reason.

"I didn't say anything."

"Oh yeah."

Dally went back to dwelling on his problems, 'Come on, there're even plot holes in the non-plot! Seriously, moronic author should get a medal for being able to create plot holes when there isn't even a plot. Oh man…I'm so hungry,' Dally looked around briefly (for no other reason than to fill space) and then said, "Hey, Darry, you got any food?"

"Yeah, look in the kitchen, dumbass."

"Jesus, I was just being polite."

"Don't fight, guys," said a very feeble sounding Ponyboy.

"How are you even awake? You were shot seventy-three times. Seventy-three times!" Dally exclaimed. Met by a blank, vaguely confused stare from Ponyboy, he walked off to the kitchen in a very exasperated fashion.

When he reached the kitchen he began to make a sandwich. Then he ate the sandwich. Then he stared at the ceiling for five minutes. Finally, he decided to go home. He went out the back door and walked to his house or apartment.

When he arrived, he walked through the door, because what else would he do? Seeing Dally, his father said, "Oh look, it's my good for nothing son! Finally decided to that you're not to good for your parents, eh?"

"Oh no, I'm still too good for you. I just felt like coming home for the night, the guys were being weird."

"Who's there?" asked his mother, walking into the room.

"It's our lazy, ungrateful son."

"At least he's not as lazy as his old man!" she yelled.

"Shaddap!" he yelled, throwing a lamp at her.

She deftly dodged the lamp, yelling, "You better work on your aim, Babe Ruth!"

"I'll show you aim!" he yelled and lunged at her.

"Why you!" she screeched, scratching at his face.

"Whore!" he yelled.

"Drunk!" she replied.

"Drunken whore!"

Just then, for no apparent reason, the two drunks began a mad groping session.

"This is disgusting," Dally muttered, turning around with the intention of getting some sleep in his room.

"I think it's sweet how much they love each other," said Kaitieralyn, stepping into the room.

"Gaaha!" Dally exclaimed, 'What are you doing here? Aren't you a soc?"

"Silly," she said, giving him a playful slap on the shoulder, "I'm your twin sister, remember. Teehee, I came to live with you."

"Why would you wanna live with these to drunks?" he asked, gesturing to their parents, still engaged in the previously mentioned "mad groping session."

"I think that, despite their flaws, they're a very loving couple. And I've been helping your mom decorate." Sure enough, there were little pots of flowers and pictures of kittens bedecking the filth.

"They're not a loving couple," Dally affirmed.

"Yes, they are. Look at them, no matter how much they fight, they still go back to each other." Now it was her turn to gesture to the indecent display of affection.

"No…no matter how much they fight, they still go back to each other because they realize that they're not good enough for any one else so if they ever want to have sex again they have to stay home."

She giggled annoyingly, "Oh Dally, you're so cynical."

"Sometimes it takes a cynic to tell the truth."

"That's very profound."

"No it isn't, you're crazy." Dally rolled his eyes and said, "I'm leaving. I wouldn't have come in the first place if I remembered that you were gonna be here." He left the house and wandered into the street. "Aw, Jesus, now where am I gonna sleep?" he wondered after about five minutes, then, "Stupid Kaitieralyn, taking over my house."

He continued walking until he bumped into a rather tall man, "Watch where you're going, sonny boy," said the tall man.

"Sonny boy?" asked Dally, horror in his voice.

"What?" asked the man, passing out.

'Well,' thought Dally, 'I should help him…but…' he walked away without bothering to finish the thought. After walking for awhile longer he finally decided to go to the Dingo. Unfortunately, when he got there he remembered that it was about five o'clock in the morning and so the Dingo wasn't open.

Just then a bizarre hobo stepped out of the shadows and said and a gravely voice, "I too came looking for the Dingo and found that it wasn't open at this hour."

"That's great…" said Dally.

"How's you like to join me in eating this can of beans while we wait for it to open," the hobo pointed to a can of beans that he had cooking over a small fire.

"Is it legal to have a campfire in the middle of a parking lot?" asked Dally.

"We hobos have no care for the law," said the hobo.

"Well, neither do us greasers but that doesn't mean you go around doing stupid stuff like building campfires in parking lots. I mean, waiting for the Dingo to open isn't very important."

"You wouldn't say that if you really wanted a hamburger."

"What do you need a hamburger for," Dally asked sarcastically, "You've got that tasty can of beans."

The hobo glared for a moment but then his face softened and he said, "How'd you like me to tell you a tale…a strange tale?"

"That's ok, I've got to be going…I've got a piano recital in, like, an hour."

"Ok, well, I hope we meet again someday…on the wide, open road."

"Uh, yeah great." Dally walked away, surprised that the hobo didn't catch on to his feeble lie.

He walked until he ran into another person, 'This is getting stupid,' he thought, picking himself up off the ground, 'I've got to watch where I'm going.'

"Hey klutz," said the person.

Dally finished standing up (man, that took a long time) and looked at the person, "Oh hey, Tim."

"What're you doing out here at five in the morning?"

"I know, it's so unusual," he said sarcastically, "I'm usually at home, tucked in bed like a good little boy at this time."

Tim rolled his eyes, "Hey you didn't happen to see a weird hobo did you?"

"Yeah…why?"

"Really! Where?"

"Over at the Dingo. He's waiting for it to open."

"Come on!" yelled Tim, grabbing Dally by the wrist and dragging him off in the direction of the dingo.

When they reached the Dingo Tim ran over to the mysterious hobo, yelling, "Granddad! It's me, Tim!"

"Tim? Is that you?" asked the hobo.

"Yes!" Tim said.

"When your dad took off I thought I'd never see you again," said the hobo, wiping a tear away from his eye.

"Well, I'm here and Curly and Angela are at home."

"Wow," the hobo seemed overjoyed, "Is Curly still a little hood?"

"Yeah."

"And is Angela still a whore?"

This made Dally laugh pretty hard.

"Yeah," Tim said, apparently unaffected by the insult to his sister.

"That's just great. Beans?" asked the hobo, holding up his can of beans.

"Umm, no thanks."

"Well, it's been really nice talking to you, Tim. I'll have to stop bye next time I'm in town."

"Ok, granddad. See ya.'"

Dally and Tim walked away from the Dingo. "That's it?" asked Dally, "You haven't seen your grandpa in years and you just say hello and then leave?"

"Years? I just saw him last Christmas, we visit all the time."

Dally was incredible confused but decided to keep it to himself. "So…" he said, trying to make some innocuous conversation, "I went home tonight and found Kaitieralyn living with my parents."

"Oh man, how disturbing is that?"

"Exactly."

"No wonder you're out roaming the streets."

"Yeah."

"Well, why don't you come sleep at my house tonight?"

"Ok, thanks Tim."

They walked off to Tim's house. "Hmm…" said Tim, "Maybe I should've asked Granddad to stay here for the night."

Dally was rather glad he hadn't, as he didn't feel like spending the night in the same house as the weird hobo. "He probably wouldn't have wanted to. He was having a lot of fun waiting for the Dingo to open."

"Oh yeah, I forgot."

They continued into the house, glancing around suspiciously for no apparent reason. When they got into the living room Angela stepped out from behind a large plant and said, "Hey there Dallas," in her sexiest voice, which actually came out sounding kind of whorish.

"Umm. Hi Angela," Dally said, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

She grinned vapidly and then rather unconvincingly tripped forward onto Dally, expecting him to catch her.

Unfortunately for her, he had recovered from his earlier shock and had the presence of mind to take a step back when she tripped forward so that she landed unceremoniously on the floor. "Oh, sorry," he said in a distinctly unapologetic voice.

She shrieked and ran from the room.

"Nice job," said Tim, "You've got to set things straight right away with her, otherwise she'll never let you alone. I've seen it happen before," he shuddered, "Too many times, to too many good guys." He sank down onto the sofa, sobbing.

Dally sat down, awkwardly putting his arm around the sobbing greaser. "Aw, come on, Tim. Don't cry."

"It's just…there have been so many guys with their whole lives ahead of them and then they meet Angela and she crushes their spirit. I couldn't bare to see it happen to you too."

"Don't worry, it won't."

"How can you make that promise? You have no way of knowing!"

"I can only promise that I'll do the best I can to protect myself from her wily charms."

"Ok," Tim sniffed, drying his eyes on his sleeve.

"Well, I'm going to bed," said Dally hoping to avoid any more absurd displays of emotion from the normally tough gang leader.

"Ok. Hey, will you sleep in my bed tonight? I don't want to be alone."

This suggestion made Dally feel vaguely nauseated but he didn't feel like sleeping outdoors so he said, "Ah…sure, Tim."

"Great," said Tim.

When they reached Tim's room Tim said, "After you," gesturing toward the bed.

Dally swallowed nervously and got into the terrifyingly small bed. He slid to the very edge of the other side of the bed in hopes that he wouldn't have to do any "cuddling."

Sadly, Tim would have none of it. He got into bed and immediately put his arm around a horrified Dally. He pulled the blonde greaser closer to him so that they were touching…quite a bit.

'Oh God,' thought Dally, 'This is a nightmare, I should have stayed with Kaitieralyn…wait…what am I saying? Could staying at home with two drunks and a bizarrely sweet soc who throws my whole existence into question by claiming to be related to me really be worse than spending the night cuddling (shudder) with Tim? I just don't know anymore, I just don't know.' And with that, to his immense revulsion, he began to cry.

"There, there," said Tim, tightening his grasp on Dally, "It's ok to cry…let it all out."

This made Dally sob even more.

"Oh, it's ok," Tim reassured, pulling Dally into a hug so that they were facing each other.

Dally began to feel like he might start hyperventilating. 'I've got to control myself,' he thought, 'If I don't, Tim will probably start rocking me gently or something else that's equally terrifying.' Fortunately, Dally was generally very good at controlling his emotions and so, after a brief struggle he managed to calm down, saying, "It's ok, Tim, I'm better now. Let's just get some sleep."

"Ok, but if you start feeling bad, just give a whistle."

Dally tried not to picture the absurdity that suggestion brought to mind and instead concentrated on going to sleep. Soon, he had achieved his goal and was completely unaware of Tim's arms around him.

That is, until he woke up.

"Wha…?" he said, waking up to find Tim's arm around him.

Then he remembered the previous night.

"I wish I were dead," he muttered.

"What's that?" asked Tim, just waking up.

"Oh…I just said…what a great bed…yes…that's it."

"Ok," said Tim.

'Wow,' Dally thought, 'Everyone is convinced by my stupid lies lately.'

"I'll just make us some breakfast," Tim said, climbing – or rather – struggling out of the tiny bed.

After Tim left Dally began to feel close to panicking once again. "Get a grip," he told himself, then, "Stop talking to yourself, it makes you seem crazy."

Just then Tim walked in, "I have brrrreaakfast," he said, sounding suspiciously like someone's mother.

"Great," Dally smiled weakly. He looked down at the unappealing breakfast and sighed. It consisted of a piece of rather horrible, cold bacon that looked like it had been sitting out for quite a few days and one slice of warm, limp orange. Thinking quickly, he said, "Oh! I just remembered, I promised my grandma I'd eat breakfast with her this morning. I'm meeting her at the retirement home."

"You have a grandma?"

"Yes."

"Ok, have fun."

Dally left the house faster than a person in the desert would if they were from the future and they arrived in 1846 and saw a person who invited them to join their wagon train dealie but introduced themselves as George Donner.