Name: He's Your Son
Setting: post-season 5; set in the What Might Have Been universe but could be canon
Prompt: "It's not even November! Why are the Christmas decorations out?"
x
"It's not even November! Why are the Christmas decorations out?" Tom asked as he stepped out of his car and into the driveway.
The glare he received in response could have cut glass. Sasha straightened from her position over a box that was overflowing with Christmas lights, two large wreaths, and an inflatable Santa. "I suggest that you ask your son. He's in the garage. Oh, and you may want to grab a hazmat suit before going in there."
With that ominous warning, Tom walked cautiously into the garage, immediately slipping on something wet and squishy. Quickly catching his balance, Tom stared around the space. In place of Sasha's car and the boxes of decorations that typically lined one wall, all he could see was ... green slime. Coating the floor, and walls, and even some of the ceiling. But how...
"Jake?" Tom called.
"Over here, Daddy," came the response from the corner of the garage. There sat five-year-old Jake, inside a bright pink kiddie pool, covered from head to toe in ...
Tom blinked. "What is that?"
"I wanted to be swamp thing, so I used Mommy's jelly," Jake replied, holding up what looked like a tube of Vaseline, except that it was somehow green. The same bright green that covered Jake's arms, legs and face. "Mommy says that it never dries out."
"And how did you manage to turn it green?" Tom asked, carefully moving in that direction.
"Glitter," Jake said, smiling proudly, only for the smile to fade. "Mommy was mad that I got into her cabinet."
Abruptly, Sasha's warning about the hazmat suit made sense. He was literally walking through a mess of petroleum jelly mixed with glitter.
He was going to be cleaning this up for years.
Deciding that it was time to do some damage control, Tom picked up a tub of what looked like wreaths and headed back outside. Sasha glanced up, shaking her head at him. "Check your feet."
Sure enough, he was leaving a trail of green, glittery footsteps across the yard. Dropping the box, Tom ran a hand through his hair, only to realize too late that the petroleum glitter gel from the box had transferred to his hand, and then his hair. Tom looked at Sasha. "Time for a new house?"
"Definitely."
x
x
x
A/N - based loosely on real life events. A week after the "incident", I am still washing Vaseline out of hair. xoxo - kals