Title: One...Two...
Summary: They say curiosity is a sign of intelligence. In that case, Murphy must have been a genius as a child, and a fearless one at that.
Rating: K+
Comments: EDIT: Those of you who may have noticed before my wording in error in Conner's insult, I honestly didn't know that. I have learned something from my reviewers and I now have something to call the guys at Pizza Hut when they don't put enough mushrooms on my pizza. I even asked my friend what whop meant and she said is was a stupid word for supid and now I feel stupid. But any way have now fixed it and replaced it with something that I think is better anyway.
Another childhood fic staring everyone's favorite prank caller, Annabelle MacManus or simply just Ma. I got the idea for this when I was at work and heard a mother doing the famous "I'll count to three," and I noticed that children never let their mothers make it to three, they always obey a second or so after two.
"Conner, Murphy, dinner's ready!" Annabelle MacManus would stand on the front porch of the small house near the outskirts of Dungiven and call out to her twin sons almost every evening between six and seven o'clock. Pretending not to here her, they would continue to play with their friends in the deserted street without even looking up.
"Boy's it's time to eat!" she would call even louder. Conner would sometimes glance in her direction, Murphy may still for just one second, but they would give her other response. She had considered many times just going back inside, allowing them to play until they grew tiered and then come home to a cold plate of food, but she knew then that they wouldn't eat it then and she hadn't the heart to starve growing boys. So there she stood calling their names to no avail. After shouting several times, she was more often than not forced to unleash the secret weapon that every good mother keeps in her arsenal...
"That's it! You boys had better be on this damn porch by the time I count to three!" This always got them to stop what they were doing, look at her, look at each other, then look back at her. It was almost as if they asked each other with their terrified eyes will she really do it. "One... Two..." When the count began, they burned the soles off of their shoes running so fast. She smiled and thought to herself every time.
Conner and Murphy loved, feared and respected their mother. The fact that they were fatherless and therefore were the "men" of the house forced them to be extremely mature for their age sometimes. They were, however, just little boys and more often then not behaved as such. This is the reason why they often forced their poor mother to do things she did not want to do, such as smack one or both of her "sweet baby boys" across the mouth, hand, or backside, put them in the corner (separate corners, sometimes in separate rooms) or have to threaten to count to three. Then again, she forced them to do things that they did not want to do, such as help clear the table, do their homework, or clean their room. So by their logic, it evened out.
The maturity and politeness beyond their young years made them feel a little guilty when their mother was forced to do the infamous counting. They would look up at her in their wide blue eyes and and a sad pout on their lips and say in unison, "Sorry, Ma."
Annabelle would just smile down at them and reply "Yer alright. Just don't ever make me count to three."
They would look at each other curiously then, as if silently asking each other "what if..."
Many nights they had stayed awake in their beds talking and they discussed this very mystery. What would happen if their mother counted to three? What would she do to the unfortunate soul that failed to comply after the count of two?
Legend says that when Ma MacManus is allowed to count to three, the gates off hell will open up and loose the entirety of Lucifer's army, or that O'Donoughe, king of the Fae would mount his white war stead and smite all such abominations that cross the faerie path. However, this was all just hearsay, because never in all of the twin's seven years of existence had their ma ever counted all the way to three.
Until the day...
They were sitting on the living room floor. Murphy was coloring and Conner was watching television, some sci-fi comedy about a flying blue box that was bigger on the inside. Their mother came into the living room and said, "Alright, boys, it's time for bed."
"But Ma, the robot alien with the plunger is gonna esternimate everyone!" Conner protested, overlapping with Murph's whine of "But Ma, I'm almost done with my pit-churrrr!"
"I let the two of ya stay up almost an hour late last night, and it was heck to get ya out of bed in time for school this mornin'."
They groaned in response. Conner flipped the television off, but Murphy did not budge. He only continued coloring away at the paper in front of him.
"Murphy," the red-headed woman towering over the dark-hared boy warned, "Put the paper away and get up those stairs."
"Ma, I'm not finished yet!" Murphy insisted.
Annabelle's face formed a scowl. "Oh yes, ya are."
"But, Ma..."
"Don't make me count to three, young lad, do ya hear me?"
This was it. The moment of truth. All this time, Conner was hidden in the corner of the hallway waiting for his brother. Something in him knew that tonight would be the night that Murphy would expose the truth behind the infamous count to three.
His young blue eyes widened with terror as he heard his mother say...
"One..."
Conner peaked around the corner and saw Murphy still sitting on the ground coloring, not even looking up at their ma.
"Two..."
Murphy was afraid, but he'd come to far to back down now. He just had to know what would happen, what she would do, how it could possible be worse than anything she'd ever done to him or Conner before.
Annabelle herself could not believe it. She wasn't even sure what to do, because neither one of her sons had ever pushed her this far. Was she just supposed to stare at him until he got up and left? Or did she really go all the way? What was she going to do if she did say...
"Three!"
Murphy's head snapped up from and his wide blue eyes met his mothers stern green ones.
"Uh-oh," Murphy stated simply.
In the hall, Conner braced himself for what he knew he was soon to hear. The legends were about to come to reality. The tales were true...
The hand of the Lord struck upon the earth.
Or, quite more literally, the hand of Ma MacManus struck upon Murphy's ass.
As soon as the screams began, Conner ran as fast as his little legs would carry him up the stares to their room, now fearing for his own backside. Even huddled under the thick blankets, he could still hear his brother's tormented cries.
Little brat deserved it, it Conner's opinion.
A few minutes later, Murphy stumbled through the bedroom door, still sniffling. Conner still pretended to be asleep until Murphy had (carefully) removed his cloths and put on his pajamas. Once Murphy had crawled into his own bed, Conner finally spoke.
"You okay, Murphy?"
"Yeah."
"She beat ya good, didn't she."
"Yeah."
"Told ya so."
"Shut'p, Conner."
The room was silent for a few minutes until Conner spoke again.
"Murph?"
"Yeah?"
"That's the tupides thing y'ever did."
A pillow flew across the room and landed on Conner's face.
They say curiosity shows a thirst for knowledge and is therefore a sign of intelligence. Well, in that case, Murphy must have been a genius, and a fearless on at that.
And on that note, Murphy made a solemn declaration to his twin. "Not tubidr than yeeew, Conner."
You get a cookie if you tell me what show Conner was watching!