Branch's bothers stared, even after Branch and Poppy were out of view and outside Rhonda.
"Wait, Grandma got eaten?" Clay asked suddenly.
"Ah!" John cried. "This is all my fault!" Wait, he didn't stutter. Does that mean he was telling the truth?
"Oh, you think?" Bruce asked.
"Bruce, I swear-" John said, before cutting himself short.
John grumbled something under his breath and threw himself at the wall, Rhonda flinching.
"What are you doing?" Bruce asked, concerned.
"I'm kicking my butt!" John cried. "Do you mind?" His brothers stared at him in concern and confusion. He finally sighed, ran a hand through his hair, pulled his hands down on his face, and sat down on the couch, without removing his hands. "This is hopeless," he sighed. "I'm never going to get my brothers back."
His brothers stared at him in silence for a minute, sometimes passing glances to each other. "That's it!" John cried, standing. "I just need to apologize!"
"Apologize?" Clay asked.
"In your...condition?" Bruce added.
"What's wrong with my 'condition?'" John asked, using finger quotations.
"You know," Bruce said, waving his hand in a small circle, "your...lying thing."
"I caaaaaaaaa..." His voice drowned out with the extended a's. "I caaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-" He inhaled. "I'll figure it out!"
"How?" Clay asked, now believing him, eyebrows raised.
"I can...work around it?" he asked, just in case he stuttered.
"How?" Bruce asked, unimpressed.
"Uhh," John spun in a circle in the spot he was standing before he found a dark blue pen sitting on a small table next to his stove. "I'll use this!" he cried, holding it up triumphantly.
"A pen?" Clay asked.
"What's the pen gonna do for you?" Bruce asked, crossing his arms.
"This pen is rrrrrrrrrrrrr-" John stuttered.
"Please, please, please don't tell me you're doing what I think you're doing," Clay said, slumping over.
"This pen is rrrrrrrr...rrrrrrrrr-" John stopped to catch his breath.
"He is," Bruce said.
"I'm embarrassed for all of us," Clay said.
"Same," Bruce agreed.
"Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-" John stopped, held it up in the air in front of him and inhaled.
"I'm out," Bruce said, casually walking outside of Rhonda.
"Don't leave me in here!" Clay cried, running after Bruce.
"Losers," John muttered, grumpy. He looked at the pen with determination. "The color of the pen that I hold in my hand is rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-" John held down the r for an unusual amount before his voice gave out and interrupted him with something else. "Rrrrrrrrrrrrroyal blue!" John sighed dejectedly and threw the pen onto a small table. He put a paper on it next to it. "Maybe I can write it out!" he exclaimed. He opened the pen and began to write on the paper.
'The color of the pen is r-'
His writing was interrupted by his hand failing to cooperate with him and dragged his hand down, drawing scribbles as it went down. He tried again with the same outcome. Three more times and each one ended in scribbles, each one messier than the last.
"Oh man," John said. "This is bad."
John's hair snatched the pen from his grip, though John fought it, confused. His hair pointed the pen at John, slinking in closer. John pushed his hair back, and fought it. "What is wrong with you?" John asked. "Must be a bad hair daaaaaaaa...guess not." John pushed his hair away from his face again, although he lost and was tied to the ground by his hair.
"Do you hear crashing?" Clay asked.
"Yeah, weird," Bruce said, casually ignoring it.
"Do you think John is okay in there?"
"Why do you care?" Bruce asked.
"Well, he is still our brother. And he's acting super sus right now," Clay said.
Bruce was silent for a moment before sighing. "Fine." They entered Rhonda again to see John slowly standing, with 'blue' written all over his face, including his nose and ears. One reads 'bluf,' as he didn't finish the e.
Clay stood with his mouth open. "What. The. Heck. Did. You. Do?" Bruce asked.
"It wasn't me! I swear!" John cried. "It was my hair!" Bruce and Clay shared a look with each other. "Well, he must be telling the truth," Clay said. "Since he can't lie and all."
"I guess you're right," Bruce said. "But our hair doesn't normally do that. Not unless it's a bad hair day."
"It wasn't a bad hair day!" John cried.
"Well," Clay said, hiding a snicker, "the pen is blue!" Bruce held back a chuckle.
"Har, har," John said sarcastically. "Very funny, Clay."
John stood, kicking the pen under the driver's chair, walked over to the sink next to the stove, and began cleaning off his face. "I'm going to talk to Branch and if I ruin it, it's my fault...again." He paused. "Did that just come out of my mouth? Ugh! I hate this thing! Anyway, I'm going out. I want you to take Rhonda, go to Mount Rageous, and save Floyd, or at least find him."
"You sure?" Clay asked. "You seem to barely be able to handle yourself."
"It'll be fine! It'll be great!" John cried, fixing his hair from the pen disaster. "It'll go great and Branch will like me again, and you will like me again and we'll save Floyd and we'll be a happy family again!" John quickly walked out the door.
"This is going to go down the toilet," Bruce said.