Walking inside after spending all day raking the yard of debris that would harm that animals, collecting eggs, milking both the cows and the goats and taking each horse out minus the one, Four Way Shot was exhausted. At times he'd help his father do those chores, but this time around his father had sat in a chair watching him do it all. He had fed and watered the goats and pigs but everything else he had placed on his shoulders. His shirt was untucked and dirty from when one of the goats butted him and his jeans were really ripped at the knee, the knee he had ripped open when he had ran away was open and bleeding again, he hadn't noticed the pain because he was so tired.

"Not easy now is it?"

Lifting his head up was hard, every inch of muscle in his body hurt. His uncle, Pinhead, was sitting at the table, a glass of lemonade in his hand. His uncle was wearing a pair of black jeans and an orange t-shirt, normally he'd have black gloves with the fingers cut off, he wasn't wearing them now. On his feet were a pair of red and white sneakers.

"No, kind o' back breakin' ye know." he said. "How does he a-do it?"

"He has a lot of muscle built up in him." his uncle said.

His uncle had a slightly deep sounding voice, he raised his arm and teased him by showing that the glass was full. His uncle was packed with muscle, at times he's wrestle with a few of his uncle's and the caretakers. Squinting his eyes then going to the fridge he opened it. His father had some muscle visible in his arms and legs, but what was underneath was what counted. He was a very rough and tough guy and he had a lot of hidden muscle in his arms, legs and back that he'd use to his advantage. Pulling a juice pack out and poking the straw in, he started drinking it.

"Hurt's don't it?"

Turning his head to the left, he saw his father leaning against the fridge. It took all he could to nod his head without crying, everything hurt him. His father had gone in to get a shower and a new set of clothes an hour after he had started working, when he had come out he had been holding a glass of water, when he had passed his father a few times he had raised his glass, which had been half full.

"Yeah," Four Way Shot said. "it a-does."

"Bes' git use to it," his father said. "yer a-gonna be doin' thangs like that all week."

Every single muscle in his body must have screamed no, they felt like they had fallen a little at his father's words. Holding his breath and forcing himself from begging his father to waver his punishment, Four Way Shot walked off. Thinking to himself, telling himself, that one day had past and that the week would go by fast, he made his way up to his room.

Arson was lying on the couch when his brother walked into the living room. He nearly dropped his jaw in surprise, he hadn't seen his brother all day and he hadn't expected to see him walk the way he was. He was turned slightly down at the shoulder and he was limping badly, his clothes looked equally as bad. Two of his sleeves of his shirt were just hanging by threads, there was a rip in the side and it was really muddy and dusty. His pants were equally as muddy and dusty, the knee that he had cut when he had ran away was once again open, he wondered if that knee was ever going to be allowed to heal properly. When his brother reached the stairs he stopped and took a deep breath in. When he raised his foot he could see all the pain rush to his face.

"Leave him alone son!"

He wasn't as sore as his brother, his father had given him a list of things to do after he had eaten breakfast and he had been finished with them long before his brother had come in. He had dusted and cleaned the tops of the tables and the bookshelf, had taken all of the books off of the bookshelf and had arranged them in alphabetical order, he had gotten stuck after the letter L and his father had had to yell at him all of the letters following it and he had vacuumed the whole living room and the hallway on the second floor. After he had finished all of that his father had waved his hand and had told him to go do something. Since his brother hadn't been around, he had had to be content with playing cars his half brother Slash. His half sister, at the time, had been in the kitchen with her mother, she had been helping her cook lunch and she had helped wash the dishes. Every time he had heard the door open and shut he had looked up, expecting his brother to walk in.

"Dad!" he heard his half brother yell. "Look what I built!"

Turning around, he saw his uncle walk around the corner. His uncle was wearing black jeans and a black shirt with red stitching, his long white hair that reached far past his shoulders was held up. His skull face with the black skull eyes made him shiver a little, he had spikes in his eyes, as did his son and daughter, there were black shoes on his feet.

"That's very nice son," he said. "what is it?"

"A rocket dad." Slash said excitedly.

"Very nice," his father said, patting him on the back. "your getting better at building every day."

The thing that his half brother had called a rocket looked like a jumbled up mess, he didn't see the rocket. He had blue Lego's connected to red Lego's and yellow Lego's were connected to those. Standing up and dusting himself off, trying to not look suspicious, he made for the stairs.

"And where the hell are you going?"

Stopping quickly and turning around, thinking that his father had gotten up from his seat on the couch, Arson saw that instead his uncle Blade and Slash were looking at him. His father's face was still in the magazine that he had been reading earlier. Swallowing his nervousness quickly and standing up straight, he walked forward a few steps.

"To the bathroom." he said.

"The bathroom is no where near the stairs." his father said.

"I know that!" Arson said annoyed. "I just sidestepped is all."

"The bathroom is over there son." his father told him.

"Your brother will be down after his father readies his bath." he heard his uncle say.

"In other words, your brother will most definitely won't want you up there when he's ass naked." his father said.

"You mean the boy don't know how to run the faucet?"

Looking over to the right he saw his uncle, Pinhead, walk in. Slasha was behind him, playing follow the leader. When Slasha saw her father she ran over and hugged him tightly. He patted her on her shoulder, not taking his eyes off of him. He felt that everyones eyes were on him.

"No, he knows how to turn it on and off," his uncle said. "he's just really tired and sore."

"He best get use to being tired and sore," he heard his muscular uncle say. "he'll be doing what he did today all of this week."

While his uncle's were engaged in talking he quickly ran up the stairs, when he looked back he saw that they were still talking, they didn't know that he had gone. He hadn't seen his brother's father walk up the stairs, he was probably outside talking to the helper that stayed with them. Walking up to his brother's door and knocking on it gently, he waited. When the door was opened his brother shot his hand out and grabbed his jacket, pulling him in fast.

"Bro, you okay?" he asked quickly.

"No," his brother hissed, his teeth clamped tightly over his bottom lip. "Imma sore all over!"

"Manual labor?" Arson asked.

"Mah pa done handed that gal that he a-talks to a list o' things fer me to do," his brother said. "milkin' the cows an' goats, feedin' the goats an' chickens, collectin' the chickens eggs, ye know all o' that stuff."

"Ouch!" Arson cringed. "Manual labor and a half decade!"

Arson started laughing, he didn't mean to but he felt a great surge of air in his chest and the only way to get it out was to laugh. Four Way Shot stared at him for a few minutes then ran at him, he was surprised that his brother could muster the strength to run much less flatten him to his back. Still laughing his brother balled one of his fists and slammed it into his stomach.

"Whut's a-goin' on in here?"

Turning around, still on the ground, Arson saw his uncle standing in the doorway, one of his hands still around it. Four Way Shot had fallen to his knees and his hand, which was still in a fist, was still on his stomach. When he tried standing he pushed it into his stomach. Arson growled when the pressure to his stomach got a little too heavy and pulled himself up, when he did his brother fell back down.

"Whut're ye doin' in here?" his uncle asked.

"Uhm," Arson thought quickly. "I came in here to..."

Arson thought quickly, he had a feeling that his uncle didn't want him in here. His brother was on his knees, one of his hands on the bed, his face was crunched up in pain. While he was thinking he grabbed his brother and helped him up gently. His brother pushed a magazine into his hand and winked one of his eyes.

"I was bringing Four Way this." Arson said, handing his uncle the magazine. "I thought he'd like to read it and all."

His uncle took one look at the magazine that he had picked up off the the table at noon, the mail would be thrown onto one of the tables and when everyone would come in they'd start rummaging through it. The magazine was a new issue of Horse & Rider, one of three magazines his uncle would get in the mail every month or so.

"I a-see ye got mah mail agin!" his uncle said. "How many times do I gots to tell ye to stay out o' mah mail?"

"I...thought he'd like to read it." Arson said, backing up.

"Ye see mah name on the address thingy," his uncle said, pointing at the white sticker with the name and address printed on it.

"Yessir." Arson said, looking down.

"Git out!"

His uncle didn't wait for him to move his feet, he grabbed his jacket by the shoulder and pulled him out, once he was outside the door it was closed in his face. He could hear his uncle saying a few words, every word getting distant until the sound of water made it very hard to distinguish.

"Dang young un's" his father was saying. "runnnin' away, thinkin' they can git off easy and stealin' mah mail..."

He didn't want to do a thing but stand there, his eyelids were drooping from exhaustion and he was about to fall asleep when he felt his father wrap four of his arms around him. Although he felt that his father was angry his father undressed him gently and placed him in a claw-like tub, he turned the water to warm and let it rise to his waist. He was nodding off when his father brought a sponge over his chest.

"Hey!" he heard. "Don't ye be a-fallin' asleep on me!"

His father shook his shoulders, making him open and shut his eyes a few times. When his father brought the sponge over his face he could barely take not falling asleep. It felt like forever before he was picked up and toweled off, his father picked him up and carried him to his bed where he dressed him in his underwear, he didn't put nothing else on him. Afterwards he pulled the covers down on his bed and layed him down on it, he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.