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Post by Deleted on May 27, 2015 2:43:45 GMT
This is a series I didn't know a series until I wanted to write second one. I'm starting by posting the first, which I made about a year ago, and then write the others as new posts.
The Runner
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They were planning a party to celebrate my success. Wanted my opinion. But I pretended to be tired, and went to my house and locked the door behind me. Nobody complained. They figured I deserved a break. Truth was I needed it, but not for the reasons they thought.
As I collapsed into the sofa, I thought about my life. I wasn’t the hero everyone thought I was. They thought I was this infallible paragon, who had run to their rescue and struck down a tyrant. I had been running, all right. But I had been trying to run away.
It had all started when my home had been invaded. They had come with guns and lasers, and had slaughtered my family in front of my eyes. I would have been next, but I turned and ran. I ran as far and as fast as I could, only to find myself face-to-face with the man responsible. I still hear the sound of that car in my dreams. I couldn’t run from him. I panicked, and somehow managed to not only survive, but wreck his car. I could have stopped him right there. But I was so scared, I just ran away. I left my home, the only land I had ever known, trying to find a place his forces couldn’t find me.
I’d taken a shortcut through the old ruins, and had almost lost my life to the lava pouring out of them. But I kept running till I reached the Casino. There I ran from the real world, and got lost in their games. Lost in the thrill of the gamble. But even then I was still running. Running from the debt-collectors, from the ever-encroaching forces, from my past. Finally, I couldn’t hide there anymore, and I ran from the Casino, heading where I thought I’d never be found.
The Labyrinth was long and convoluted, the perfect place to hide, I thought. But it too, had been invaded, and so I had to run through it, like a mouse in a lab. So I kept running till I finally found my way out, only to reach the fortress where the invaders came from. But I kept running, through vents and tunnels and hallways, always a step ahead of my pursuers, till again I found myself standing before the man responsible for everything. He had built a machine, a trap, to catch me and crush me. I tried to run, but there was nowhere to go. I panicked. I grabbed the panels and pulled them off, revealing wires. I pulled those out like a wild animal, till finally the machine stopped and the door opened. Again, I had a chance to stop the man responsible for my parent’s death, and for the deaths of so many more. But I just ran away.
It turned out that in my desperate attack on the wiring of the trap, I had caused a short in the power system, and caused a reactor overload. The explosion destroyed the fortress. I had already run away, but there were witnesses. The other survivors, those who had lived under his rule for years, saw that I had run out of the fortress shortly before it blew up. They figured out I had done it. Now I’m their hero. All I’ve ever done is run. I tried to run away, but I couldn’t even do that right. And now no one will ever forget the name of Sonic the Hedgehog.
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Post by Deleted on May 27, 2015 3:26:42 GMT
The Nephew
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I knocked on the door as the van drove away. Mom opened it, her face confused, but happy. She hadn't seen me in forever. Wanted to know where my uncle was. I made excuses, explained I was tired from the trip, went to my room. Locked the door behind me, and plopped down on the bed, staring at it. It was still in the mess I had left it when I left. That had been a happy time. I had been so excited. I had been a fool.
I'd always had a hard time. My ADHD made it hard to focus. Really hard. My grades were always terrible because I couldn't focus in class. The teacher would go on and on and I'd lose interest and then I'd realize I'd been thinking about why the sky was blue or my favorite tv show and now I had no idea what the teacher had been saying for the last 10 minutes.
But I'd try. I'd try and I'd try. Because I knew I could overcome my disability. I knew it. Because my uncle had. My famous, hero uncle. He had a speech impediment. Couldn't even say 'speech impediment'. He'd been the laughingstock of his own school. At least I was only "That one kid who was always distracted". But even so, he had made friends. He had gone on to make something of himself. My mom would always talk about her big brother, how he traveled all across the country saving people, and would remind me to never give up. She tried so hard to make up for me not having a dad. I had believed her, though I couldn't blame her for being just as ignorant as everyone else of the truth.
Last spring school had reached an all-time low, and my mom decided I needed a summer away from it all. In the present, I stared at the poster on my wall, the huge one of my uncle, next to his friends. When my mom had said my uncle and his friends had agreed to take me with them for the summer, I'd been elated. I'd been so excited, I had tore my room apart packing everything I could possible need. I'd barely been able to wait for them to come and pick me up.
Then I'd seen my uncle and his friends at work, and I'd discovered the truth. My uncle wasn't a hero. He wasn't even a real member of the team. He was...was a mascot! They just brought him along because they thought he was funny. Worse, even if they'd legitimately considered him a part of the team, my uncle wasn't a hero. He was a coward. All he ever did was run away. It was his 'friends' who were the real heroes, and like I said they kept my uncle around because they would laugh at him behind his back. I suspect they had laughed at me too. I'd been so eager, so naive. Their amusement had turned to irritation, then frustration. They'd eventually kicked me out.
That was why I was home early. Uncle's 'friends' couldn't stand me any longer. And my uncle? The 'big hero'? He'd let them, because he knew these were the only people in the world who would treat him like an actual person. It was so pathetic. I grabbed the corner of his poster, and I pulled. It ripped in half, the rip turning horizontal at one point, comically splitting his neck. It had a macabre look now. I considered leaving it up just for the reminder of how my hero had fallen. But I couldn't stand to look at his face anymore, even as a decapitated head. I ripped the other half down, and threw the pieces in the trashcan. There was a white square on the wall where the poster had protected the wall from dirt. That I could live with.
I sat there, looking at the mess my room was. Should I try and clean it up? Was there any point? I'd get distracted before I finished, for sure. Out of habit, I found myself asking my old mantra. "What Would Uncle Do?" Well, I knew the answer now better than ever; He would ignore the problem. So I cleaned up my room. I didn't even get distracted partway through. I was going to be better than my uncle. After all, I'm not my Uncle Scooby. I'm a pup named Scrappy Doo.
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Post by Deleted on May 27, 2015 4:41:59 GMT
The Guardian
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I laid down in the chair. Rest, at last. If I had known what I was getting into, I would never have agreed to become a personal guardian. The pay was crap, the perks were non-existent, and you never got recognition for your sacrifices. Three. Three villains, my ward had fought. And who got the job of keeping his scrawny neck alive? Me. Sure, the elders gave him tips. Sure that hunter kept giving him pointers. But I was the one who took the punches. Heck, this last adventure my ward hadn't been the only hero trying to save the day. I still got stuck protecting them too.
The first adventure wasn't really so bad. Sure, the kid had been new to the whole "hero" thing, but he had the raw power that put his people on top of the food chain. The only real problem had been those near-immortal dogs, and even then the kid had caught on to their weakness pretty quick. And as he'd progressed, he'd had more and more of a support structure to back him up. But every time the kid messed up, it had been up to me to take the hit, to sacrifice MY lifeforce to save him.
And the worst part of that adventure is the "villain" was just looking to be treated as an equal. Whoever coined the term "Fantastic Racism" needed to be a bit more clear that it meant "fantasy" not "Fantastic". So not only was I having to take a beating in the name of my ward, but I was helping subjugate the underclass. I still have to see a psychiatrist about the ethics of my actions there.
The second adventure was...pretty rough. I mean, the plan HAD been to take a much-needed vacation, but then that idiot of a mole had re-directed the flight. Next thing I know we're going on yet another adventure. At least this 'villain' had an easily-exploited phobia. And the adventure was much shorter this time. Fewer people needing saving, less organized forces. It was the closest thing I could have hoped for in a break. And afterwards, at least we got an actual vacation. Too bad that amusement park was a death-trap...
The Third adventure, though. That one took the cake. Not only did I have to protect my ward, but I ALSO had to protect my ward's new buddies. So now there are 5 'heroes' who I have to take the punches for...I'm still blue from the continual beating that was...and on top of it all they expect to be baby-sitter to over 150 newborns! That's one-hundred-and-fifty-one diapers that need changing! Bottles that need feeding! And don't even get me started on burping them! The doctors say my eyebrows will never grow back, even with the life-force infusions that are the only reason I"m still alive after all this...
And that's another thing! After 3 adventures of continuous life-force infusions, I'm now the leading test subject for the long-term effects of using the method of life-extension. Side effects include loss of motor function, trouble speaking, trouble thinking, changes in skin tone, changes in mood, chronic sarcasm, risk of catalyzing Multiple-Personality-Disorder, and increased risk of cancer. Yeah, great stuff. But without it, I'd be long dead by now, so I'm asking the questions people shouldn't ask till they're five times my age...which is to say "At what point is your quality of life too low to keep living?".
If it were just me, the answer would be no.
But the kid, he's still got people who need saving. And as long as he keeps saving people, I'll be there to take his beatings for him. Because I'm not here for the money I'm not being paid, or the fame I'm not getting, or even the warm fuzzy feeling I should probably get checked out. I'm here because they need us. And there isn't anyone else. So I'll keep dying till I'm dead, and they write on my tombstone "Sparx the Dragonfly".
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Post by Deleted on Sept 23, 2015 4:05:31 GMT
The Masochist
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The funeral was...well, a funeral. I got out of the car, and started the impossibly long walk back to the house. I saw Spike next door. He’d been at the funeral, but apparently he beat me home. He gave me the same look everyone else did. It was sympathy, pity, and ‘I’m here if you need me’ all in one. It said I was fragile.
I was.
I returned his look, and then set my eyes on the door. I didn’t want to go in, but I knew I had to. I mean, I could probably ask Spike to let me stay at his place; he’d actually been a longtime friend. He was the one who taught us SSC. I’d always known we weren’t REALLY Sane, but I’d always been sure we had Safe down...anyway, I didn’t want to be a burden on Spike. He had a family to take care of.
I tried to stand up straighter, to walk like it was a normal day. I felt Spike’s eyes on me the whole way, and to be honest I don’t think I fooled him. I know I didn’t fool me. But I managed to make it to the door without stumbling, so that was a plus.
I opened the door, and stepped inside. I didn’t bother turning the lights on; it just didn’t seem like it was worth the effort. As I stared at our...my home, I was bathed in memories; Me and him, cuddling on the couch. Me and him, eating breakfast for dinner. Playing our games. I resisted the urge to smash something. Our games were the reason for all this. I should have double-checked the fuse. I knew it was a danger point. Better yet, I should have just emptied the black-powder out of the thing. But it hadn’t looked that dangerous. Sure, it would be a threat to ME, but I figured he’d be fine...we weren’t planning on it going off anyway...I shook my head, as if the memories were a fog. I didn’t feel any better, but I got myself moving again, at least.
I saw the pile of letters on the floor, where the mailman had slid them through the mail slot. Lots of condolences. A letter from my publisher, too. My book had won another prize. What surprised me was a letter from his great-aunt’s lawyer. I checked that one. His great-aunt had been dead for years, and had never liked me. She’d actually had a clause in her will; While we were dating, neither of us would see a penny of her fortune. The letter was the lawyer explaining that, while his great-aunt hadn’t liked me, his cousin (who had inherited the fortune when he and I kept dating in defiance of the will) felt very guilty over the matter. She didn’t need nearly as much as she’d gotten, and she was willing to make sure I got his fair share. I didn’t feel up to the challenge of writing just about then.
After that, I crawled into his spot on the couch, and huddled there, staring at the tv, trying to decide if it was worth the effort to turn it on. What would I even watch? Whatever it was left on, I suspected. As I sat there trying to figure out what to do with myself, I noticed a bunch of papers piled on the coffee table. It was hard to make out in the dark, but they looked like letters. Where had so much mail come fro-I felt my eyes widening in recognition.
the wedding invitations.
Oh God
I didn’t want to, but I felt my eyes focus in on the text.
The honor of your presence is requested
at the marriage of
Tom Cat and Jerry Mouse
on Saturday, The Twenty First of August,
Nineteen Forty and Three
at Six O’Clock in the Evening,
10202 Washington Blvd
Culver City, California
This chapter comes with a few acknowledgements: I try to stay (mostly) true to the cannon on these things, but I had to make some leeway to tell this one the way I wanted; for the big one, in actual cannon it has been shown time and again that Tom and Jerry each have female love interests (though Tom is somewhat of a playboy).
Additionally, both Life with Tom (episode involving Jerry’s book) AND Million Dollar Mouse (the episode where Tom’s owner’s aunt [that’s close enough to a great-aunt, right?] devotes her fortune to Tom should he not hurt any creature again) were released AFTER The Yankee Doodle Mouse (the episode that ends with Tom being blown up by a giant firecracker). I figure I’m allowed to play somewhat loose with the release timeline, given the episodic nature of the work.
Notably, the date in the invitation is exactly 8 weeks after the release date of The Yankee Doodle Mouse, and the address is of the publishing company (Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer)’s address at the time (and still is, but the ‘at the time’ was the point).
The story used to include a computer. But then I realized that email didn't exist in 1943. So we get a pile of physical letters in the floor. Yay for innovation, eh?
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