DISCLAIMER: I don't own The Outsiders!
Once again, guys, thanks for all the great reviews! I hope you like this one!
The two younger Curtis brothers sat at their kitchen table eating their porridge. The oldest brother, Darrel, couldn't be there, for he had gone skiing with his old buddies from school.
"Ah, mine's too hot!" Ponyboy complained.
"Yeah, well mine's too cold!" Sodapop complained in reply.
"Well, then let's go for a walk and wait for it to cool off," Ponyboy suggested.
"No. I don't want mine to cool off! It will just get colder!" Soda yelled.
"Yeah, well we're going!" Pony screamed at the top of his lungs.
"No we're not!" Soda yelled, slamming the table with his fists.
Ponyboy bitch-slapped his brother across the face, leaving a big red handprint. Soda looked at Pony in disbelief. Pony was able to keep his composure for a little while, but eventually the tension in the room was too much for him and he tap danced to the park.
Too bad for Pony, for by the time he got there, his porridge had cooled off.
Soda sat back down, began to eat Ponyboy's porridge, and just as he did Two-Bit walked in through the back door and sat down across from him. He took a bite--unknowingly, of course-- of Soda's cold porridge and immediately spat it out at Soda's face.
"Bitch! You gave me the bad porridge!" Two-Bit yelled, smashed Soda over the head with his bowl and left him there, lifeless.
That's when Soda's best buddy Steve happened to walk in. Steve noticed his friend on the floor.
"Well, shave my legs and call me Bertha!" Steve yelled, shocked at the sight of his friend.
Steve was, needless to say, anguished with fury.
"Hello, Two-Bit. As you already know, my name is Inigo Mon—or, uh, Steve Randle. You killed my friend. Now prepare to die." He said, now with a Spanish accent.
Steve then proceeded to kill Two-Bit in ways, too gory to speak of…or type of.
Now, Steve tired from this murdering decided to sit down.
He walked into the living room and first tried Pony's chair. It was too hard. So he then tried Soda's chair, but it was too soft. He finally tried Darry's chair, and it was just right. He got comfortable and began to read the paper, all the while marinating in his rage.
Then Dally walked in, Johnny tagging along behind him. Dally saw Steve and was immediately very upset.
"You messed up Johnny's hair!" Dally yelled.
"What are you talking about?" Steve yelled back.
"Johnny told me all about it! You ruffled his hair and now look at it! All ruffled and messed! You must pay for your damage!" Dally yelled, then took Steve's paper, rolled it up, and began to swat Steve with it. He swatted him until, finally, he was dead.
Now Dally, sleepy after this killing, decided to go to bed. He took Johnny by the hand and they went into the bedroom. First Dally tried Pony's bed, but it was too hard. He then tried Soda's bed, but it was just too soft. So, finally, he tried Darry's bed and it was just right.
"Come on, Johnny, this one is perfect!" Dally exclaimed, jumping into it and getting under the covers.
Johnny shrugged and then leaped into the bed with Dally, but not before closing the door.
It was then that Darry arrived home from his ski trip. He had come back earlier than expected, for when Darry got to the ski slopes, he remembered that he couldn't ski.
He walked into the house and surveyed the entire scene. He was about ready to blow his stack, but managed to keep calm. One more oddity and he probably couldn't take it anymore.
He walked down the hall and stopped at his bedroom door. He opened it, and was quite shocked at what he saw.
"GODDAMMIT! WHY IS IT ALWAYS MY HOUSE!"
FIN.