well i got permission to post this…this thing. i wrote it sometime last year and its just…its just a thing. ash helped me with some ideas and i actually had to taste raw butter for this.
this was born because me and ash were bored one day and this story of pops had just been posted and i decided that since i had no ideas the obvious thing to do would be to write pops story but make it more realistic? that was the starting goal. it didnt end like that. i used all of pops characters, so credit to her for them.
this was based on pop’s story…sages? i think that’s what it was called. my version is just called this shit in all lowercase.
warning for cursing and i guess bad parenting
My room is dark, my dying nightlight doing little to brighten the place up. Silence hung over me, as much as a sound as any. I shiver, the folds of my blanket clutched in my fists. I really hate this room, sometimes, like when the sun goes down and I’m left alone in darkness.
My door creaks, and light spills in from the crack, illuminating the shadow that lurks outside. I groan as soft as I can and try to burrow further into my blankets. The floorboards creak as feet step carefully onto them, seemingly making an effort to step on the loudest ones.
“It’s your fault we can’t afford a toaster!” Mom yells. I flinch at the sheer volume of her voice and let the blankets drop from my fists, turning around to look at her.
The yellow light from the hallway almost spotlights her. Her hair is ratty and unkempt, her hazel eyes wide. She’s drunk again, then.
“If it wasn’t for your stupid butter addiction, we’d have enough money to buy a toaster!” Mom yells, pulling a stick of butter from her pocket. She throws it at me, and it bounces off of my head and onto the bedsheets. I peel away the wrapper and lick it as Mom continues to ramble about me and various problems she thinks I’ve caused.
“Isn’t Dad the problem?” I ask her. She pauses mid-sentence and stares at me, hazel eyes glaring into brown. She lifts an eyebrow, a sign of challenge. I let my lips curl into a grin and say, “I mean, he somehow ended up in Norway! Don’t plane tickets cost more than butter?”
“Shut up!” Mom yells, slamming her fist into my bed. I snort and roll over, ignoring Mom as she stomps out of the room and down the hall, not even bothering to slam my door shut. As her footsteps grow softer, I hear her whisper, “Fucking bitch,” before they fade away for the rest of the night.
Ahh, Mom. What a great person, being the neglectful, drunken mother she is. Well, to me. Mom forgets I exists except to yell at me, but she dotes on my older siblings and will feed them so much food they have to hide it behind all my butter when Mom isn’t looking.
And Dad, who’ll go out to bars and get wasted with his drinking buddies, before somehow ending up halfway across the world and CEO of a new lawnmower company. He’s only come home maybe six times since I was a baby, and we mostly hear about him on news and through the various postcards he remembers to send home. He’s probably the reason why we’re broke.
I lick my rectangle of butter once more, biting a chunk off. It was cold in my mouth, and one could call it slippery, but it mostly tasted like butter. Butter truly did go with everything, whether it pancakes or ice cream.
I put the butter on my nightstand and close my eyes, thinking of butter and Norway. I was half asleep when someone leapt onto my bed, their knees digging into my legs.
“Liam, go away,” I say, grabbing the nearest pillow (which was fluffy, and probably the pink one Liam gave me for my tenth birthday), and throwing it at him, bursting into laughter when it hit him square on the nose.
“I just wanna show my baby brother some love!” Liam says. He lays down in my bed and scoots closer, so close that I can feel his breath on my arm.
“Get off, you creep!” I say, digging my elbow into his side. He yelps and sits up as he scurries to the edge of my bed. He’s frowning and trying to make his eyes wide, but instead he looks like a deer in the headlights, frozen in place as it waits for its death.
“Whatcha thinking ‘bout?” Liam asks, dropping the face and squinting at me. I sigh, as loud as I can, and turn away from him to grab my butter. Liam laughs when he sees me licking butter, but shuts up when I glare at him.
“I’m thinking about how much cooler Oasis is,” I tell him, smiling as he frowns at me, “I mean, have you seen her name?” I make sure to put as much emphasis on ‘seen,’ as I possibly can.
“You think Oasis is cooler?” Liam asks, standing up on my bed, his head almost touching the ceiling, “I’ll show you cool!” Liam tries to raise his fist, but it just rests awkwardly against the ceiling, elbow bent.
“How are you gonna do that?” I ask him. I mean, he looks so cool right now, with his lanky body standing on my bed, a pink fluffy pillow in his shadow, and elbow bent as he tries to do a cocky smirk. Don’t tell Liam, but he’s the worst at smirking. It looks more like he’s constipated and having extreme stomach pains.
“Like this,” he tells me, before yelling, “Oasis, 1v1 me!” I take a long lick of butter, staring up at him with my eyebrows half raised.
“Wow,” I say, “What a great job!” I place the butter down on my bed and clap slowly, keeping a deadpan expression on my face. Liam glares down at me and lowers his raised fist.
“Liam, it’s too late for this,” Oasis mutters as she walks into my room, rubbing her eyes. Her hair is sticking up in the back, a mix of bleached blond and pale pink. I wonder when she’s gonna re-dye that.
“It’s never too late to fight!” Liam leaps down from my bed and lands on the floor with a thud, letting out a little yelp when his bones crack. Oasis winces and reaches out a hand to pat him on the back as Liam moans and falls over on my floor.
“This is all your fault,” she says, but kneels down to comfort him anyway. I roll my eyes and lick my butter.
“No, it’s Cody’s fault!” Liam whines, turning to face me, “CODY! IT’S YOUR FAULT WE DON’T HAVE A TOASTER!” He says, raising his voice into a poor imitation of Mom, and flipping his hair, “If only you were a normal child who didn’t like butter!”
“But Mother,” I say, “I can’t help it!” I hold the butter up like it’s Simba from The Lion King.
“I still hate you!” Liam trills, voice cracking on hate. He chokes back laughter.
“IT’S WHO I AM, MOM!” I yell, before falling back onto my bed and breaking down into giggles. Liam joins me, rolling around on my floor, while Oasis just stares at us.
“You’re both stupid,” she says with a smile on her face.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, before one of the best ideas I’ve ever had in my entire existence comes to mind. “Hey, Oasis?” I ask, twisting around to face her. She lifts her head to look at me, sitting in my ragged plaid chair.
“What?”
“You be Dad.”
“Dad?” Oasis asks, tilting her head, “What do you mean?”
“Well, Liam is Mom,” I say, pointing to his twitching form on the floor, “So you be Dad. I’ll be your disappointment of a kid.”
“But…shouldn’t I be Mom?” Oasis asks, standing up from the chair and walking over to nudge Liam with her foot, “And this mess be Dad?”
“Liam’s a better Mom,” I tell Oasis with a shrug, “He can do the voice better, and he always acts like he’s drunk.”
“Yeah!” Liam says from the floor, raising a fist, “Go to sleep, you failure! Your fail-ness is why I can’t afford to buy decent food!”
“Liam—” Oasis starts, but I cut her off.
“I can’t help it, Mother Dearest,” I tell Liam, trying to hold back laughter, “Butter completes me! I wouldn’t be myself without it!”
“Well, maybe you should marry it!” Liam yells, jumping to his feet and swiping my stick of butter off my bed. He holds it tightly in his hand, the butter spilling through the gaps of his fingers.
“Fine!” I say, sliding off my bed, “Maybe I will!”
“I’m CEO of a lawnmower company!” Oasis screams, leaping between me and Liam and grabbing the butter from his hands, “And I’m here to steal all the alcohol in the house before waking up in Argentina!”
“My wife!” I cry, reaching out desperately for the butter. Liam holds me around the waist, and won’t let me go no matter how hard I struggle.
“Your wife is dead because of you!” Liam yells, shaking me, “How does it feel to watch her die?”
“I hate you, Mom!” I scream, beating Liam’s skinny frame with my fists, “I just wanted to be in love, and you stole that from me!”
Oasis throws my butter-wife into the trash can by my dresser and throws a bowling ball on top of it. “Death!” she yells, “Death to the un-pure!”
“Wife!” I scream, falling to my knees and letting tears slip down my cheeks, “I brought this upon you…it is the love of me that brings death to so many…”
“That was great!” Liam says, bursting into laughter as he falls back onto the wood floor, banging his head. I poke him, and when he squirms away, assume him to be fine.
“Sorry I killed the butter,” Oasis says, walking over to sit on my bed, a guilty expression on her face, “I think I went overboard…”
“Nah, that was great!” I tell her, still laughing, “What time is it?”
She glances over to my bedside table and winces. “Almost one.”
“I’m too lazy to move,” Liam tells us, climbing onto my bed, “Sleepover?”
“Ugh, fine,” I say, collapsing into the worn sheets of my bed with a sigh. Oasis pats my back gently before slipping under the covers, curling her legs into her chest. Liam flops down beside me and instantly falls asleep, snoring loudly. Oasis falls asleep soon after, her snores drowned out by Liam’s.
I close my eyes and try to ignore Liam’s snores.
It doesn’t work.
“GET UP YOU BUTTER-LOVER, SCHOOL STARTS IN FIFTEEN MINUTES!” Mom screams in my ear, waking me up. I let out a sharp yell, sitting up and getting my legs stuck in the covers. Liam says something beside me, groaning and accidentally slapping me in the head with his arm. On my other side, Oasis falls out of the bed and takes half the sheets with her.
“Ow…” Oasis mutters, rubbing at her eyes and yawning. Mom walks out of the room, a slice of half-eaten bread in her hands.
“Sorry sis,” Liam says, even though he didn’t do anything. I shove his arm off me and manage to pull one of my legs out of the sheets, leaving the other twisted and aching.
“I’m stuck!” Oasis wails, thrashing around in the sheets on the floor, “I’m gonna die alone!”
“I’ll save you!” I cry, rolling over and falling onto her back. Oasis grunts and all I do is pull more sheets over her, my left leg still stuck.
“Dogpile!” Liam yells cheerfully, trying to jump on us, before I kick him in the chest. He falls to the floor with a grunt.
I finally pull my leg out of the sheets and help Oasis get untangled. The three of us walk downstairs, Liam tripping over a pair of roller skates and almost killing himself as he falls down the stairs.
“How are you still alive,” Oasis mutters, passing her twin without a second glance. Liam whines and pushes himself to his feet, tugging at my shirt.
“Yeah?” I ask, stopping and turning around. Liam points to the couch, where…
Well.
Dad’s back.
He’s also surrounded by lamps.
“Dad?” I ask, creeping closer to the strange man I call my father, Liam beside me, “What happened this time?”
“And why are you back?” Oasis asks, coming out of the kitchen with a bowl of strawberries. She holds it out to me and I take three, giving one to Liam and keeping the rest to myself. Oasis puts the bowl down on the coffee table and sits in the chair opposite Dad.
“I’m just here to drop off these lamps,” Dad says, pointing to the lamps by his feet, “I have to catch a plane back to Sweden.”
“Sweden?” I ask, “What did you do there?”
“I opened an IKEA,” Dad says, “That’s where all these lamps are from. Also, I married a very polite chair. Her name is Chaireta. We have three kids.”
“You married a chair?” Liam asks, stealing one of my strawberries. I groan and grab another from the bowl, stuffing the entire thing in my mouth before Liam can get a hold of it, “That’s legal?”
“Some Swedish dude married us,” Dad says, a dreamy look on his face, “The wedding was beautiful…the rose petals were swimming through the air…the homeless man gave us the rings…and Chaireta…she was wearing the prettiest dress of all. She’s much prettier than your mother.” Dad says. He glances behind him, where Mom is standing, holding a pancake.
“Just pay child support,” she tells him, before turning to us kids, “You brats! I can’t afford to drive you to school because of Cody. Have fun walking.” She storms out of the house and slams the door behind her.
“I have to leave…I need to see Chaireta again,” Dad says, following Mom outside.
Me, Oasis, and Liam stare at each other for a moment. Liam has the stem of a strawberry hanging out of the corner of his mouth, Oasis is holding a pancake, maple syrup dripping off the edges and onto the floor, and I am trying to swallow the last bits of strawberry.
“Wanna ditch?” Liam asks, breaking the silence. I cheer in agreement, and Oasis drops the pancake to the floor.
“Are you joking?” she cries, “We’ll get in so much trouble with the teachers! Education is important!”
“Sis, Oasis, school starts in five minutes,” Liam says, pointing to the clock, “We can’t walk there. We don’t even know how to get there.”
“We can go buy ice cream!” I chime in, standing up from my chair and trotting over to the fridge. I pull the heavy door open, and am greeted by three cartons of strawberries, no butter, and a frozen glass of unsweetened tea. “And butter!” I add, sadly stroking the shelf where the butter usually lies. I let the door slam shut on its own and return to the living room.
In the living room, Liam and Oasis are fighting. They do this a lot. Liam tells me it’s a Twin Thing, while Oasis says it’s a Liam Thing.
“I can’t give up my perfect attendance!” Oasis yells, “I promised myself that this would be the year!”
“Who cares about that?” Liam retorts, scoffing, “I missed like half of school last year and nothing bad happened.”
“That’s cause you’re Liam,” Oasis says, voice bitter, “And nobody cares if you fail, because they already knew you wouldn’t be anything more than a failure.”
Liam flinches. “Oasis!” he yells, digging his fingers into the palm of his hand, “I’m not a failure! I actually have a life! You just care about school and poor little Cody!”
“I do so have a life!” Oasis fires back, narrowing her eyes, “I care about my schoolwork and succeeding in life!”
“Guys!” I say, running in-between the twins. Both of them stop to glare at me, and I shiver.
“What,” Liam asks, voice cold. Oasis is fuming behind me.
“Why don’t we,” I start, spreading out my hands so they’re flat in front of me, “Drop this and buy ice cream?”
“I agree with Cody,” Liam says, turning to Oasis.
“Fine,” Oasis mutters, “Just don’t blame me when you both fail at school.” She drops her fists and walks over to the door, grabbing her purse off of the handle and swinging the door open. Liam leads the way, and together, the three of us leave the warm house, and enter the cold chill of winter.
“Liam, you put your money in my purse the other day, right?” Oasis asks for what must be the hundredth time. Liam sighs.
“Yes, I did,” he tells her, “You’ve been asking me that since we left the house. The answer hasn’t changed.”
“I know, I know,” Oasis mutters, “I’m just scared we’ll get there and not have any money, and this whole walk would’ve been for nothing.”
The two of them fall quiet. Oasis is leading the way, ignoring the sounds of other people chatting and focusing on getting us there. Liam is in the back, yelling random commentary and butting into people’s conversations. I’m in the middle, kicking a pebble with my shoes and counting the number of red trucks that pass us. I’ve counted four by the time Oasis calls, “We’re here!”
Liam yells and runs past her, bursting into the small shop and running straight for the ice cream. I follow behind him, but make a turn to get to the butter. Oasis calls that she’ll be waiting for us at the front of the shop.
Butter. It’s all around me, calling for me, begging for me to take it home. I scoop up as much butter as I can carry, inhaling its sweet smell. An old lady looks at me, an odd expression on her face, but I leave her behind as I start the tedious process of getting to Oasis without dropping any butter.
“Hey bro,” Liam says, walking up beside me. He’s carrying four tubs of ice-cream, one vanilla, two chocolates, and one cookies-and-cream. I grin up at him, and return my focus to my feet, making sure not to crash into any other shoppers or trip over a loose shoelace.
We make it to Oasis without disaster, and she takes deep pleasure in using the last of Liam’s money to buy sixteen sticks of butter. We make Liam carry the bags, and cross the street to the park.
“Hey kid, wanna play a game?” Liam asks, shoving the bags into Oasis’s arms. She scowls at him and sits down on a bench, placing the bags beside her.
“What game?” I ask, curious.
“I call it Rock Throw,” Liam tells me, beckoning for me to come closer. Oasis groans loudly from the bench, and Liam continues, “Basically, one person gets a rock, like so,” He grabs a rock off the ground, about the size of my fist, “And throws it across the street, trying to get it as close to the sidewalk as possible.” He leads me over to the road, glances around to make sure no cars are coming, and throws the rock as hard as he can. It lands on the street with a thud, a few feet away from the sidewalk.
“I hate this game!” Oasis yells, “It’s basically How to Get Hit by a Car: The Game!”
“Shut up, it’s perfectly safe!” Liam yells back, before turning to me, “Anyway, then whoever threw the rock tries to run and bring it to the other side of the street without getting tagged by the other person.”
“So, it’s like tag?” I ask.
“Kinda,” Liam says, “But not really. Wanna play?”
“Sure!” I say with a grin. The road we’re playing on is pretty quiet at the moment, and even if a car does come, we can just wait until they pass. “Can I go first?”
“Yeah,” Liam says, before turning to the bench Oasis is in, a little bit away, “Oasis, wanna play?”
“I’d rather have all my bones intact, thanks,” Oasis answers. Liam narrows his eyes and chews the side of his mouth.
If you don’t play I’ll tell the entire school about the time you cried during an episode of Dora,” Liam says, going out to retrieve the rock. When he gets back to the grass, he says, “And about the time you said you cared about me.”
“FINE!” Oasis screams, storming over to us, dropping the bags by Liam’s feet, “I’ll watch for cars.”
“Can you also be the tagger?” Liam asks, “You just stand on the other side and try to tag us.”
“Whatever, fine,” she mutters, crossing the street after checking for cars. She turns to face us and scowls at the grinning Liam.
“Ready?” he asks me, handing me the rock. It’s cool and heavy and sandy. I throw it as far as I can, and sigh when it barely makes it to the middle of the road. I glance at Oasis, who seems distracted watching for cars, and charge for the rock. Oasis, who wasn’t as distracted as I thought, runs at me, and I barely miss a tag. My hands drag against the concrete road as I snag up the rock, and my feet echo as I blindly run for the other side of the road, Oasis on my heels. I trip over the sidewalk and fall to the ground, stretching my hands in front of me to stop myself from falling on my face. The rock falls from my grasp and lands on the road, and my hands slam into the sidewalk.
“Are you okay?” Oasis asks, kneeling down beside me and shaking my head. I nod dizzily, sitting down on the curb and looking at my hands, which are scraped and bleeding. A red truck drives by, and I add it to my count.
“I’m fine,” I tell Oasis, “I’ll keep playing.” Oasis casts me a concerned look, but stands up and throws the rock back to Liam. He ventures out to get it, returning to his side of the road, before throwing it, and the game starts up again.
It’s actually a rather fun game, as long as Oasis yells whenever a car is coming, and we play it for a while, laughing and joking. My hands still burn, but not as bad, and I try to ignore it, and just focus on having fun.
“Hey, let’s change it up,” I say, retrieving the rock Oasis threw back from the road, “How about me and Liam go at the same time, and Oasis tries to tag us both?”
“Do we both get a rock?” Liam asks. I shake my head.
“No, one of us gets it and the other tries to get to the other side, or distract Oasis, or whatever,” I explain, handing the rock to Liam, “Let’s just try it.”
“Alright, sure,” Liam says, tossing the rock. Oasis grins at us, and the three of us spring into action.
Liam goes for the rock, which landed in the middle of the road, and I run for the sidewalk. Blood pounds in my ears and I can faintly hear Oasis yell something. I slow down and glance around, trying to find Oasis, only to see her on the other side of the road, standing on the sidewalk, yelling and waving her hands, eyes watering.
“Oasis?” I ask, trotting over to her, “What is it?”
“CAR!” she screams, pointing to the car barreling down the street. It seems to be out-of-control, swerving around the road.
“Oh,” I say, “Well, we’re safe now.”
“No, Liam!” She cries, and points to the road, where Liam is frozen, staring at the car speeding at him. The rock is held in one hand, and it falls to the ground when his fingers uncurl.
“Liam!” I yell, heart beating fast, “Get out of the road!”
The guy in the car yells something as he grows closer. The distance between him and Liam closes, and then Oasis isn’t beside me anymore.
She runs out in the street, and shoves Liam to the side. He slams into the concrete and looks up at me, eyes hazy, just as Oasis screams and the car crashes into her, and then hits a tree, and everything is quiet.
“Oasis!” I cry, running to the street and shaking my sister. I can faintly make out Liam’s groans and the guy from the car apologizing and saying he’ll call an ambulance, but all I care about is how Oasis’s chest still rises and falls.
“Oasis?” I ask, quiet. She takes a sharp breath. I can’t see any blood, but her face is contorted in pain. “Oasis, are you okay?”
“I fucking hate Liam,” she mutters through gasping breaths, clutching at her side, “This is all his fault. Is he okay?”
I look behind me, where Liam is on his feet, talking with the driver of the car. Blood trickles from his nose, he has a bleeding scratch on his face, and his knees are a mess of blood and grit, but he looks fine.
“He’s okay,” I tell her, and Oasis laughs in relief.
“Thought he would die,” Oasis tells me, her voice raspy, “Didn’t want him to die. Will I die?”
“I…” I gulp and look at the road, not able to meet my sister’s eyes, “I don’t think so.”
“Good,” she says, closing her eyes, “I wouldn’t be able to blame you guys.” Her eyes shut fully, and her hand drops from her side, and she says, “Don’t forget the butter,” before she’s out cold.
“I’m so sorry,” the guy driving the car tells me as I stand up, “My car screwed up, I didn’t see you, I was trying to fix it, I’ll pay the bills, where are your parents?” He says this all very fast.
“It’s fine,” Liam mutters, even though it most definitely is not, “Our Mom is at work and our Dad is on a plane to Sweden. I don’t think we can contact either of them.”
The guy looks taken aback, but he says, “Do you want me to go with you to the hospital, or…?”
“Yeah,” Liam says, before he turns away and starts to talk with the doctors in the ambulance, loading Oasis in.
Liam carries me into the ambulance, but I don’t really mind. I’m too out-of-it to care, still in shock. The guy driving the car, who says his name is Charles, tells the doctor it was his fault and he’ll pay for the medical bills. Liam watches Oasis, thinking. I wonder if he blames himself. He was the one frozen like a deer in the headlights, unmoving, the one who made Oasis get hit.
It’s not his fault though, but I can’t find the words to tell him. Instead, I think back to the whole reason we’re here in the first place, why we even left the house.
The bag of butter and ice cream is still on the side of the street, forgotten just like Oasis told me not to do.
ashgraalcustoms 