Some long story. The minute they said the words "little brother", Jacque had practically slammed on the brakes and shrieked "WHAT?!?!" After convincing him to pull over and let Goresky drive, as the feline was getting more emotionally worked up over the situation than them. He kept yelping, "-I can't believe it!!" and went on about how it was like 'fate' had brought them back together and stuff, obviously getting carried away. When they finally arrived at his house, Jacque kept hugging Goresky, and even gave Chislett one, telling them how they had to see their brother again and that he'd have to meet him sometime. The warthogs had to force themselves to smile and nod at the last thing; knowing how Bullseye had acted to the same suggestion earlier. And so they drove back home at last, late afternoon. Their father was home, and commented on their lateness, as he had to start supper, when it was Chislett's turn to. The younger brother apologized, sheepishly, as they wandered off to their room. As the winded out, Goresky thought outloud, "-Chis... do you think... we should tell Dad?" "-Eh?" his brother said, questioningly. "-Well you know... I mean, considering he IS his son too... and he hasn't seen or even said anything Bullseye since-" Chislett gave a snort, "-Duh, of COURSE we're gonna tell him!" The elder warthog raised an eyebrow. "-How can you sound so sure about it?" Aren't you even thinking it over?" "-What's there to think about?" the younger one, blinked. "-A LOT, Chis!" Think about it!" For example, one: Like I said, Dad hasn't seen Bullseye since Mom... you know." Both sets of ears lowered. Neither could talk much about their mother, even now, without pain. She'd died so suddenly they didn't even know she'd been sick or been able to say goodbye, since the last time they'd been allowed to see her. "-And two: You remember how Bullseye acted when you mentioned Dad!" How well you do you think HE's gonna take it?" Like... what if it's too soon?" Chislett gave him a funny look, and muttered, "-Yeah... you're right, Goresk... it's only been eleven years... not NEARLY long enough!" We should at least wait another decade." Goresky scowled, darkly, "-BRO... you KNOW what I mean!" "Yes, I understand perfectly," Chislett said. "The drama queen thing was cute for the first while, but now you're just being a complete donkey." He smacked Goresky across the face. "-SNAP OUT OF IT, YOU FAG!!!" he shouted. His brother sat there, stunned. "-You hit me," he said, stupidly. The younger Warthogg turned red. "-Sorry... it just seemed like a slap in face 'snap out of it' moment..." "-I suppose... thanks... I guess..." Goresky mumbled, rubbing his cheek. "You could've at least been a LITTLE gentler about it-" Chislett scoffed, "-Oh come on... it wasn't THAT hard, was it?" His brother stood up, and replied, "-You tell me," and slapped him back. "-OWWW!" That DID hurt!" the younger yelped, in stinging pain. "-Well, now you know!" Goresky spoke. Chislett sighed, "-Alright, alright... I get it." And okay... we'll take a raincheck on the whole telling Pa business... if you're gonna be all whining on about it!" "-Okay then." THANK you," the elder said, appreciatingly. "-Yeah, yeah," the younger brother grumbled. "Don't get all sappy about it." Goresky tried to jest with him. "-Oh come on, Chis... you always gotta be a sore loser?" "-Oh, go make out with Jacque!" Chislett snorted, rooting around in his dresser drawer. His brother was quiet for a minute, seeing Chislett's mood seemed to be worsening. But he tried again. "-Hey bro, whatever happened to finding you someone?" Like... didn't you ever give that girl you liked that letter you wrote?" The younger brother frowned. "-No, I burnt it," he said, flatly. Goresky's smile was gone. "-Wha... why'd you do that?" Chislett sniffed, "-Oh please... YOU read it, you know how bloody stupid it was." "-No it wasn't!" I mean... sure I might've laughed, but I'm your BROTHER, of course it looked weird to me!" I bet she would've liked it!" "-Sure... nice try." I don't need the sympathy, thanks." 'Sides, she moved to a new place before I could get it to her anyways." I never had a standing chance." Now Goresky felt bad for pressing. "-Oh... bro, I'm-" "-Don't," Chislett said crisply, cutting him off. "That's one apology too many months too late..." And I don't care anyways." ...Bullseye was right... who needs a girlfriend... love is a JOKE for guys like me." "-Come on, Chislett, that's not-!" But the bathroom door was slammed shut before he could finish. Goresky gave a long sigh. It was rare Chislett got into moods like that, usually he was the positive happy one, but while this angst-ridden mood lasted, he sure made it LAST. The elder brother rubbed his neck, thinking. He'd have to try and go out of his way to be nice and pay attention to his brother the rest of the evening if he wanted to get back on Chislett's good side... After all, what are brothers for?

The next day went relatively normal for everyone. No, they had not forgotten yesterday's events, they just thought it better to keep the subject on a low. Perhaps for fear of 'jinxing' it? Who knew. Yet all the same, that afternoon, Bullseye was in his room alone, phone in hand, staring at the ruffled paper with the scrawly written number across its surface. Should I even try? he wondered. Would he be calling too soon? He certainly didn't want to appear 'needy' or 'clingy' about the matter, and calling this soon COULD possibly make it seem so. But all the same, hadn't Melony said they'd missed so many years, why waste another day? The warthog sighed, darkly. Helpful. Stupid old '50/50' situation. Maybe I should just flip a coin... he thought, exasperatedly. So he picked one out, decided heads: not call, and tails: do call. Flicking it off his thumb, catching it, flipping it over, and looked. Heads. "-Okay then," he said, decidedly. But in a minute, he was thought, "-But what if I SHOULD call them?" Realizing he was back where he started, he groaned, "-Oh, for fuck's sake!" In the end, he dialed the number. At least this way he'd get it over with and his conscience clear. After all, what's the worst that could happen? So they're not home, leave a message or hang up, and if they're there, then just talk. he figured. If it were only that easy...

One ring. No answer. Three rings. Nothing. By the fifth one, Bullseye considered hanging up by the next, but then he heard a click of someone picking up the receiver. "-Hello?" To his absolute shock however, it wasn't Goresky or Chislett. But he knew the voice, clear as day.... His mouth went dry and he couldn't say a word. He just sat there, the phone to his ear, his mouth slightly ajar. The voice on the other end, spoke again, "-Hello?" Is someone there?" Bullseye still didn't speak; but the voice continued to infuriate him. He clenched his jaw. "-I know you're there, I can hear your breathin'," the person said, impatiently, thinking it was a prank of some sort. Finally the warthog found his voice, and said what he'd been wanting to say for eleven years. "...You killed her." There was a pause from the other end. "...What?" Bullseye repeated, "-You killed her... you killed my mother." "-Who... is this?" the voice asked, shaken. The teenager gave a snort. "-You don't know me?" Huh... just like you never did... 'FATHER'!" he spat the last word out. He then swiftly slammed the receiver down. The phone line went dead on the other end. With a shaking hand and sick-looking face, Sir Graff slowly lowered the phone. It was as if he'd heard a ghost. True, the voice had matured greatly over the years, but in it, there was no mistaking, the father warthog could hear the echo of his long-lost little boy. And the words spoken had set a chill into his soul, bringing (back) one of his worst fears to life. His son hated him. Shame filled his heart into an aching hole and his green eyes blurred with tears. He didn't blame Bullseye, he just didn't want to know the truth; he'd hid from it for so long. He knew he was a coward in that sense, but he'd made so many mistakes it was hard to remember where he'd made his first wrong decision and sent everything to hell. Obviously, asking for forgiveness and offering apologizes would do nothing now, Graff figured. He was too many years too late. And Bullseye was just like him when it came to paternal attitude... he held grudges and held them strong. Graff was so upset he didn't even think about how Bullseye had got the number in the first place... Back from the other line, Bullseye was kicking at himself for what had happened. "What could possibly go wrong... MY ASS!" he yelled to no one. He hadn't heard his father's voice for eleven years, and could've gone on without it. But he HAD heard it, and wished he hadn't. That voice brought back memories he didn't want to remember, feelings he didn't want to feel, and overwhelment of emotional spasms. He'd sounded mad on the phone, he HAD been mad, but now he felt depression setting in. He sneered at himself, what was he sad for? He'd told his old man off; something he'd wanted to do for so long. But it didn't feel as good as he thought it would. Not knowing what to do or how to feel, Bullseye just let go. He propped up his feet on the bed, buried his face between his knees and cried.

As he had missed on his dinner chores the other night, Chislett cooked food for that evening. Goresky and him chatted away about things through the meal, taking them awhile to realize their father's odd and uncomfortable silence. The younger son finally remarked, "-Gee Pa, keep it down, me and Goresk can hardly hear our own thoughts over all your talkin'!" Graff gave a grim smile. "-Ah-hah." Goresky glanced at his parent. "-Really Dad, everything alright?" You DO seem a bit... what's the word... 'distraught' over something?" "-Distraught?" Nyah... I ain't, I'm fine." "-You sure?" There isn't anything you'd like to tell us?" his eldest son, insisted. The father twisted his mouth, thoughtfully. "Actually... there is ONE thing," he started. "-Oh?" the two brothers, echoed in question. Graff looked over at Goresky. "-I think you're turning into a full-fledged worry-wart, and it's going to turn your hair grey before mine does." The teenager gave a falsely amused look. "-Very funny Dad..." Chislett, however, showed true mirth, and nearly choked on a mouthful of food. Goresky snorted, "-Sheesh... well arrest me for giving a damn about my family... maybe I should just become a selfish-shallow asshole, how'd that suit you??" His father simply shook his muzzle. "-Goresky, you couldn't become an asshole even if you wanted to." It's a trait that comes naturally to someone, you don't just decide to be one." An asshole stays the same." You're born an asshole; you die an asshole." Like MY father, for example." He took a swig from his glass of cranberry juice, pausing. "In which case, I'm surprised his parents didn't just get rid of him." There was an awkward silence. Chislett filled his own void by continuing to eat, but Goresky dared to ask, "-You don't really mean that, do you Dad?" Yes, he knew about Graff's father Stanley and the person and parent he had been, but Goresky was one of those people that were loyal to family despite all bad traits and believed there was good in everyone, somehow. His father lowered his glass and swallowed, clearing his throat. "-I used to think of how many ways he could die, on a weekly basis, when I was your age," he said with honesty. "Him being put in a sack and exposed to a river as an infant, was just one in a million." His son gulped, very uncomfortably. He didn't like grudges; they seemed such harsh things to hold against someone. True, Graff had a right considering the hell his father had made of his childhood, but Goresky knew two wrongs didn't make a right, so what was the point, he wondered to himself. But knowing better than to continue the subject, he too, resumed eating. Then another thought came to him, and since they had just been loosely on the same subject, he decided to come out then. "-Uhm... speaking of a 'family'... Dad, me and Chis got something we should tell you." Chislett gave a cough on a mouthful. "-We do?" His brother gave him a look. "Oh yeah... we do!" he quickly corrected. Their father smacked his lips. "-That so?" Well by all means, then," he responded. "-Okay... well... see... uhhh-" Goresky took long pauses, wondering exactly HOW he should say it. "-Aie?" Graff edged him. Seeing that his brother was acting up again, Chislett sighed, "-Goresk... I think Pa wants to hear t-t-today!" Do you want me to tell??" The elder brother looked grateful at the suggestion. "-Please!" If it's not too much, I mean..." he said, trying to hide the eagerness. Truth be told, he wasn't too brave at fessing up big events or such to Graff ever since he'd told his father about his choice to be a homosexual... considering how well he'd taken THAT news. Graff knew this; he could see it in Goresky's face and tone of expression. He lowered his gaze, guiltily. He'd never forgive himself for what he'd done then... for in that day, he'd sunk to his roots... been no better than Stanley... But he snapped back to attention as Chislett spoke, "-Yeah... what Goresk was tryin' to say was... y'know how we were late the other day?" Graff nodded. "-Yah." "Well like we kinda jisted at... something came up... well... more specifically some'ONE'." The adult warthog slowly blinked. "-And that would be-?" Pausing, Chislett darted a glance over at Goresky, letting him know HE should speak, considering how much Chislett himself had already said. Swallowing, Goresky spoke for him, "-We... we found Bullseye, Dad." Their father just stared, blankly, naught a word. There was nothing but a dead silence for a few moments. Finally he found his voice, and said, "-Well... I guess that would explain it, then." His sons looked at him quizzically, at this remark, as he rose from his chair, taking his half empty plate. Wasn't hungry anyways. "-Explains 'what'?" they asked. Graff sighed heavily. "Why Bullseye called here." He set down the dish with a small clatter, piercing into the nerve-wracking silence. Both the teenagers' mouths fell in shock. How could they have forgotten that they'd given their brother their number? Goresky gasped, "-You talked to him??" His tone was almost hopeful, for a fleeting moment, wondering if they had resolved or talked about resolving issues. But his father's response killed that thought. "I wouldn't exactly've called it 'talkin'..." he spoke quietly. Then he walked out of the room, leaving the two alone. Goresky's ears lowered, sadly. "-I don't think it went well," he spoke, downhearted. Chislett gave a deep sigh. "-No shit, Sherlock," he griped, hopelessly.

That very evening, Bullseye and Buckthorne had just returned to their 'wing', from their promised dinner 'appearance' in the mess hall with the young orphans. The room door opened with a thrust, by Bullseye, who's voice came booming in. "-I'm tellin' you, the way that little Jodie was looking at me with her little chocolate pudding thing, she KNEW I had an allergy!" She was staring into my skull, like a goddamn brain tumour!" Buckthorne yawned, as he listened to Bullseye rant on. The guy seemed to be able to find brand new kids and complaints to roar about every week. The wolf said, "-Y'know, it's not nearly as bad as you're making it out to be..." "-Yeah, YOU can say that... least it wasn't so crapass for you, since you KNOW some of the buggers." Like you and the one kid were yabberin' on the whole time... whatshisface... Fabio... or Fargo-" "-FARREL," Buckthorne told him, correcting. "-Yeah, Farrel, that's it," Bullseye muttered. "Geesh, you two sure know how to hit things off." His friend cast a look. "-Meaning?" "-Nothing, just saying." I mean, it's not EVERYONE who can make you open your mouth, pal, even 'I' have trouble." Buckthorne lifted his shoulders. "-Well we have alot in common." Bullseye gave a grunt. I thought that's what you said about US once... he thought, moodily. They were interrupted by a strange and rather 'melodic' sound. The wolf blinked. "-What's that?" The warthog, however, immediately knew, and walked over to his nightstand desk, and pulled open the drawer. The tune grew louder as he reached in and pulled out a small cellphone. Buckthorne gave an amused snort. "-Oh geesh... should've known... what ringer song have you got it on this time?" Bullseye gave him a surprised look. "-You don't know the song??" You're shittin' me!" You know it... 'Ya'll gonna make me lose my mind! Up in here, up in here! Ya'll gonna make me act the fool! Up in here, up in-'" The wolf muttered, "-Ain't ringing a bell." His friend threw up his hand. "Haven't you ever heard 'Party Up'?" It's DMX, man!" Come on!" The wolf shook his muzzle. "-Nope." Never heard it." Bullseye shook HIS head then. "-Dude, just give me a minute, I'll get the CD for you after I take this." He then flipped it on. "-And heeello?" "-Jello, right back to yah, bro!" It was Chislett. "-That you Chis?" "-Sure is." What's up?" Bullseye pursued his lips together. "First things first... question." "-Shoot, man." Bullseye's voice turned suddenly harsh. "-Where the FUCK were you two hours ago?" There was a sigh from the other end. "-I had a feelin' you were gonna ask that... anywho, we were out." Why?" "-Well, I called you at home, and obviously, you weren't there." But guess who WAS?" "-Yeeeah... we heard about that... briefly." "-Really?" What'd he say?" "-Not much... just said he 'wouldn't call it talkin' or something." Bullseye sneered. "-I suspected as much." "-What you'd say to him, by the way?" "-If he didn't tell you, then I can assure you, it ain't worth hearin' anyways." "-Oh come on, you pussy." "-It was something I'd been wanting to say to him for eleven years, that's all I'm saying about it!" And if it makes you feel any better, it didn't feel as great as I thought it would." So PEH, purpose defeated, blah-blah." Chislett was not fooled. "-So what you still so pissed about then?" A pause followed. "-Why am I pissed you ask... WHY AM I PISSED?" Bullseye growled. "Because I haven't heard his goddamn voice for over half my life, and I could've been better off and lived without it." But now he's gone and refreshed my memory." Be sure to thank twisted, crippled ass for me." "-Okie-dokie, then," Chislett replied. He then wisely switched the topic of conversation. "-So then... you called us, right... what for?" Bullseye snapped into his right mind. "-Oh that... yeah." I was wondering if you guys were busy tomorrow... maybe we could hang out, meet someplace." "Hmmm, sounds like a plan." I don't think we're up to anything." And hey, maybe we could introduce to Jacque, and all that jazz." "-Sure," Bullseye agreed. But then something suddenly unnerved him. "-Uhhh... actually, I got a suggestion!" I mean... since we're doing the whole... 'meeting new people' thing, why not kill two birds with one stone?" His brother appeared interested. "-Oh, how so?" "-Like... why don't you, Goresk and... ya'll come by and meet my crew?" After all, there's nine of 'em, not countin' me and Buckthorne." "-Holy bejesies!" Chislett exclaimed. "That's a big frickin' crowd." But hey, sure, why not!" The more the merrier, should make things interesting." Count us in!" "-Okay then!" Call back if you need to know anything else." "-Alrighty." Talk to ya later then, bro." "-Seeya." Both brothers hung up. Bullseye looked up and received an odd look from Buckthorne. "...What?" The wolf gave him a frosty stare. "-Y'know... considering you were belly-achin' at me yesterday for the whole 'meeting Jacque' first thing, I'm wondering what the hell that whole 'meet my crew' together thing was about." The warthog drew back, sheepishly. "-Oh okay... I'll admit it; so I panicked, alright??" Maybe I'm NOT ready to tackle the bull by the horns yet..." I guess I just need some friends around... take the tension off at least, y'know?" A smirk grew upon Buckthorne's face, and he slowly nodded. "-Yeah... I'll give you that." Alright, I'm in." Bullseye sighed, relieved. "-Thanks man... seriously, I mean it." You're one level-headed friend I could definitely use right now." "Glad to hear it," the wolf said, appreciatively. Bullseye leaned back onto his mattress, relaxing. That's when a thought came to Buckthorne. "-So when?" The warthog murmered, "-When what?" "-When you gonna start making those 'last minute calls' to let our 'crew' know our 'plans' for tomorrow, hmm?" Bullseye gave a long suffering groan and pulled a pillow over his face. "-Dangnamit..."