Disclaimer- I do not own Pyro. I DO own his parents in this story and his
siblings.
Summary- St. John Allerdyce has always had a fascination with fire. My story on Pyro's childhood.
Chapter One- What's A Caesarian?
"When's Mum gonna be 'ome?" asked a five year old St. John. He was playing with little plastic army men soldiers.
"When the baby's ready, Sinjin," replied his brother Chris who was reading a magazine by the window, and used his little brother's nickname that everybody used. It was just easier that way.
"Whoy do they 'ave ta wait till it's ready?" 'Sinjin' was one to always ask questions and never shut up.
"Whoy do ya awlways 'ave ta ask stupid questions?" Chris snapped back.
"Whoy do ya awlways 'ave ta ask stoopid questions?" St. John copied in a high-pitched voice, giving an emphasis on the word 'stupid'. He then turned back to his army men.
"Beware! Beware! 'Ere comes the Eeevil Woild Killah Dingo!" and he grabbed his stuffed animal that looked like a dingo and tossed it on top of the not- so-neatly lined army men. St. John watched in delight as they all toppled over.
"No! No! Oy'll save you!" he then grabbed the little koala and made it have a vicious fight with the little dingo.
Meanwhile, Chris was trying to read his magazine over the "Ahh!", "Oh, no! Oy'm doying! Oy'm doying!", and "Take that! And That! Hahahahaha!", but finally he couldn't concentrate on reading anymore so he just chucked the magazine at the little blonde boy and it whacked him in the head.
"Oww," St. John whined, rubbing the back of his head. He turned his sparkling eyes blue to Chris. "Whoy'd ya do that foah?" Chris just glared at him.
They stared at each other for a few minutes until John finally asked, "Wot's takin' them so long?"
Chris sighed. He hated when John asked questions. "Because," he said, "They 'ad ta do a Caesarian on Mum. Tha's whoy she's been gone foah a coupla days."
"Ohhh," John exclaimed and turned back to his toys, and then he turned back to Chris. "Wot's a Cesserien?*"
Chris rolled his eyes. "It's wheah they cut open the mum ta pull out the baby, stupid."
John's eyes widened. "They CUT 'er OPEN?"
"Yeah."
"Are they comin' back today?" John asked.
Chris sighed. "Yes, Sinjin, theah comin' 'ome today."
But John must have a short attention span because he was walking over to his toy trunk while Chris was talking, leaving all the other toys he played with that day scattered on the carpet. He pulled out a fire truck.
Bringing it over to where the little soldiers were lying down and scattered, he started running them over with the fire-truck making helicopter noises and making the soldiers plead and beg and scream.
"Ah! 'E's runnin' ovah me! 'E's runnin' ovah me! 'Elp! 'Elp! A h h h h h!"
Chris was tempted to throw something else at St. John but stopped when the door suddenly opened.
Their mother, who was always thin and frail looking walked in holding a bundle in her arms. Her pale brown hair was in a limp ponytail, and she was wearing black leggings and a loose gray T-shirt. Their father walked in behind her, with his beer-gut and dark whiskers, came in carrying the old brown suitcase.
The baby that was wrapped in yellow blankets suddenly gave a loud wail. Chris scrunched up his face and John covered his ears hollering, "Shut the thing up! Make it stop!"
Sue Allerdyce walked across the room and put the baby in the basinet that was set up across the room a few weeks ago. She then pulled out a cigarette and lighter out of her old purse and lit one up. She walked in the kitchen and they heard the refrigerator door open and close.
Steve Allerdyce just tossed the suitcase to the side and went to the baby to quiet her down. Sue walked back in with a glass of water and a cloud of smoke trailed behind her as she puffed the cigarette.
John was still covering his ears and was still screaming, "Shut it up! Shut it up! Make it stop! Whoy's it so loud!"
And he was still screaming that about thirty seconds later until Sue snapped, "Sinjin! Stop yoah cryin'! Oy just got home! Oy don' need any o' this cryin'!"
But John was still yelling. He did not like things that made loud annoying noises, unless it was him who made it, and he did not like that thing that was crying in his father's arms.
"ST. JOHN!" his mother finally screamed, her voice hoarse. John faltered on his yelling and looked at his mother, whose face was full of anger. He shut up.
His mother then turned around and put her finished cigarette out on the ashtray on the table. She lit another one up.
"Give me moy baby," she said holding out her thin and pale arms. Steve handed her the whimpering baby.
" 'Ere's moy lit'l girl," she cooed to the baby. She raised her head up to look at her two sons. " 'Ere's yoah baby sistah. Her name is Irene."
Chris got up from the armchair by the window and slowly stepped over John's toys to look at her. John followed.
"Is that the baby?" John asked, standing on his tip-toes to get a better look. His mother nodded her head. She then walked back to place the baby in the basinet.
She then turned around and looked at the place. She saw toys littered all over the place, food wrappers, empty cups, and dishes with food still in them. Her face started to turn pink.
"Whoy is theah toys all ovah the floah? Sinjin you bettah pick those up or yoah goin' ta get a big spankin'. Chris? Yoah twelve years old, Oy thought that you'd be decent enough ta clean up aftah yoahself. Oy'm goin' ta take a nap, an' when Oy come down, ya better 'ave this junk cleaned up." She started to walk in the direction of the staircase. She stopped in the middle of the steps and called over her shoulder, "An' Oy mean it."
Steve just shook his head, went to the kitchen, grabbed a beer, came back in and went out the front door to light a cigarette.
Chris went to clean up all the dishes and wrappers as John quietly cleaned his toys up. As Chris walked back in from the kitchen to get more dishes, John whispered, "Mum doesn't look loike she woz cut open."
Chris looked at John for a moment and then shook his head, carrying the rest of the dishes to the kitchen sink.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A/N- How'd you like this chapter? Is the story good so far? R&R Constructive criticism welcomed! And please read and review my other stories! They're not bad, check 'em out!
*pronounced cess-er-ee-an. John's little, he won't pronounce it write.
Thanks to those of you who reviewed-
InsaneBunneh- Butthole munch? Is that the BEST you can come up with? Ha! Well thanks for reviewing! And remember, review other stories! EVERY chapter! Yeah, I'm a review hog.
everyone_was_doin_it- Thanks for reviewing! It means a lot to me! I'm glad I seem to be part of the very few who would do a Pyro childhood fic. I've read one before so I know I'm not the only one.
Raven10- Thanks for your review! Means a lot!
Dark Jaded Rose- Thanks for your review! Means a lot to me!
Summary- St. John Allerdyce has always had a fascination with fire. My story on Pyro's childhood.
Chapter One- What's A Caesarian?
"When's Mum gonna be 'ome?" asked a five year old St. John. He was playing with little plastic army men soldiers.
"When the baby's ready, Sinjin," replied his brother Chris who was reading a magazine by the window, and used his little brother's nickname that everybody used. It was just easier that way.
"Whoy do they 'ave ta wait till it's ready?" 'Sinjin' was one to always ask questions and never shut up.
"Whoy do ya awlways 'ave ta ask stupid questions?" Chris snapped back.
"Whoy do ya awlways 'ave ta ask stoopid questions?" St. John copied in a high-pitched voice, giving an emphasis on the word 'stupid'. He then turned back to his army men.
"Beware! Beware! 'Ere comes the Eeevil Woild Killah Dingo!" and he grabbed his stuffed animal that looked like a dingo and tossed it on top of the not- so-neatly lined army men. St. John watched in delight as they all toppled over.
"No! No! Oy'll save you!" he then grabbed the little koala and made it have a vicious fight with the little dingo.
Meanwhile, Chris was trying to read his magazine over the "Ahh!", "Oh, no! Oy'm doying! Oy'm doying!", and "Take that! And That! Hahahahaha!", but finally he couldn't concentrate on reading anymore so he just chucked the magazine at the little blonde boy and it whacked him in the head.
"Oww," St. John whined, rubbing the back of his head. He turned his sparkling eyes blue to Chris. "Whoy'd ya do that foah?" Chris just glared at him.
They stared at each other for a few minutes until John finally asked, "Wot's takin' them so long?"
Chris sighed. He hated when John asked questions. "Because," he said, "They 'ad ta do a Caesarian on Mum. Tha's whoy she's been gone foah a coupla days."
"Ohhh," John exclaimed and turned back to his toys, and then he turned back to Chris. "Wot's a Cesserien?*"
Chris rolled his eyes. "It's wheah they cut open the mum ta pull out the baby, stupid."
John's eyes widened. "They CUT 'er OPEN?"
"Yeah."
"Are they comin' back today?" John asked.
Chris sighed. "Yes, Sinjin, theah comin' 'ome today."
But John must have a short attention span because he was walking over to his toy trunk while Chris was talking, leaving all the other toys he played with that day scattered on the carpet. He pulled out a fire truck.
Bringing it over to where the little soldiers were lying down and scattered, he started running them over with the fire-truck making helicopter noises and making the soldiers plead and beg and scream.
"Ah! 'E's runnin' ovah me! 'E's runnin' ovah me! 'Elp! 'Elp! A h h h h h!"
Chris was tempted to throw something else at St. John but stopped when the door suddenly opened.
Their mother, who was always thin and frail looking walked in holding a bundle in her arms. Her pale brown hair was in a limp ponytail, and she was wearing black leggings and a loose gray T-shirt. Their father walked in behind her, with his beer-gut and dark whiskers, came in carrying the old brown suitcase.
The baby that was wrapped in yellow blankets suddenly gave a loud wail. Chris scrunched up his face and John covered his ears hollering, "Shut the thing up! Make it stop!"
Sue Allerdyce walked across the room and put the baby in the basinet that was set up across the room a few weeks ago. She then pulled out a cigarette and lighter out of her old purse and lit one up. She walked in the kitchen and they heard the refrigerator door open and close.
Steve Allerdyce just tossed the suitcase to the side and went to the baby to quiet her down. Sue walked back in with a glass of water and a cloud of smoke trailed behind her as she puffed the cigarette.
John was still covering his ears and was still screaming, "Shut it up! Shut it up! Make it stop! Whoy's it so loud!"
And he was still screaming that about thirty seconds later until Sue snapped, "Sinjin! Stop yoah cryin'! Oy just got home! Oy don' need any o' this cryin'!"
But John was still yelling. He did not like things that made loud annoying noises, unless it was him who made it, and he did not like that thing that was crying in his father's arms.
"ST. JOHN!" his mother finally screamed, her voice hoarse. John faltered on his yelling and looked at his mother, whose face was full of anger. He shut up.
His mother then turned around and put her finished cigarette out on the ashtray on the table. She lit another one up.
"Give me moy baby," she said holding out her thin and pale arms. Steve handed her the whimpering baby.
" 'Ere's moy lit'l girl," she cooed to the baby. She raised her head up to look at her two sons. " 'Ere's yoah baby sistah. Her name is Irene."
Chris got up from the armchair by the window and slowly stepped over John's toys to look at her. John followed.
"Is that the baby?" John asked, standing on his tip-toes to get a better look. His mother nodded her head. She then walked back to place the baby in the basinet.
She then turned around and looked at the place. She saw toys littered all over the place, food wrappers, empty cups, and dishes with food still in them. Her face started to turn pink.
"Whoy is theah toys all ovah the floah? Sinjin you bettah pick those up or yoah goin' ta get a big spankin'. Chris? Yoah twelve years old, Oy thought that you'd be decent enough ta clean up aftah yoahself. Oy'm goin' ta take a nap, an' when Oy come down, ya better 'ave this junk cleaned up." She started to walk in the direction of the staircase. She stopped in the middle of the steps and called over her shoulder, "An' Oy mean it."
Steve just shook his head, went to the kitchen, grabbed a beer, came back in and went out the front door to light a cigarette.
Chris went to clean up all the dishes and wrappers as John quietly cleaned his toys up. As Chris walked back in from the kitchen to get more dishes, John whispered, "Mum doesn't look loike she woz cut open."
Chris looked at John for a moment and then shook his head, carrying the rest of the dishes to the kitchen sink.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A/N- How'd you like this chapter? Is the story good so far? R&R Constructive criticism welcomed! And please read and review my other stories! They're not bad, check 'em out!
*pronounced cess-er-ee-an. John's little, he won't pronounce it write.
Thanks to those of you who reviewed-
InsaneBunneh- Butthole munch? Is that the BEST you can come up with? Ha! Well thanks for reviewing! And remember, review other stories! EVERY chapter! Yeah, I'm a review hog.
everyone_was_doin_it- Thanks for reviewing! It means a lot to me! I'm glad I seem to be part of the very few who would do a Pyro childhood fic. I've read one before so I know I'm not the only one.
Raven10- Thanks for your review! Means a lot!
Dark Jaded Rose- Thanks for your review! Means a lot to me!