fun_like_that | Crackbaby RPS 9

Crack!baby RPS 9. I sound like a hick. That is all.

Randy had never minded flying before being trapped in a single-engine plane, high above the remotest regions of Canada, with the teenager formerly known as the CrackBaby of Death sitting across the aisle. His knuckles were white and he tapped his foot restlessly, glancing out the window every few seconds.

"It's so pretty," JT commented excitedly, staring out the other window. He kept chattering on and shooting grins at Randy while laughing. He had Randy's smile. Randy would smile back, pained, and grip the armrests tighter.

"Yeah, it's something," Randy gritted back. He was flying - which he didn't really like. If they crashed it would be days before anyone found them in the wilderness - which he hated. And if they did crash JT would likely eat him to survive. The idea of which he detested with the passion of a thousand fiery suns.

Speaking of eating... Randy gulped hard as he gripped the armrests just a little tighter. Between the motion of the plane and watching JT bounce up and down and up and down...

Randy quickly rose to his feet and stumbled to the back of the plane.

His head and stomach were having a nasty argument about which one would get to leave his body first, and he was quite sure, with a quick glance at JT, that it was about to be decided for him... bloodily.

"Are you okay?" JT called, craning his neck and looking back at Randy.

"I'm fine," Randy mumbled. He pressed a hand to his clammy forehead and another to his stomach, resting his temple against the wall of the tiny bathroom stall. "Look," he said to his stomach, which was still threatening to stage a revolt, "either you're going to make me hurl or you're not. But decide now, because in about fifteen seconds, I'm going to go back to my seat and buckle up.

His stomach gurgled at him, but remained otherwise still.

"God, I hate nausea," he muttered, slowly getting to his feet.

"Dad said his morning sickness was pretty brutal at times," JT told him when he returned to his seat. Randy just frowned at him. "Not that you're pregnant or anything. I'm just saying." The teen looked away. "Is that why you hate me? Because Dad had me and not... a mom?"

Randy stared at his left hand, searching for that elusive focus that would allow him to keep his breakfast down.

"I don't...*hate* you...." He grumbled. "You maimed me. Lots. It's kind of hard to forget that, let alone forgive."

JT looked crushed, and his lower lip started to tremble.

The teenager looked up with tear-filled (or was that some inexplicable alien-tentacle prodromal slime) eyes, before whispering, "I forgave you... for abandoning me."

Randy felt guilt settle on his already troubled stomach like a super value meal from McDonalds and tried to form words to apologise.

His brain was just starting to synapse through the haze of dispair and regret, when he felt a curious warmth spread on his belly...

He looked down and touched the warm spot, realizing that his nausea had disappeared. His eyes darted up to JT.

JT glanced away. "Sorry," he said. "Alien thing. I just thought it might be easier for you to have a nervous breakdown if you didn't feel like you were about to yack up a walrus."

"Whale, actually," Randy murmured. He risked looking into JT's eyes and was rewarded with a tentative smile from the teen. Randy gave a watery smile back. "I didn't want to run off, you know. I just - I couldn't - you... no. I had problems." Randy shook his head and looked down at his hands.

Randy blinked. "Wait--alien thing? I was right, the whole time? I knew it!!" He shouted, standing, pointing a shaking index finger at JT.

Once again, JT's lower lip wobbled, as a single tear slid down his cheek. "I was only trying to help..." He sniffed.

He sniffed again, effectively making his lip quiver with cunningly repressed grief and look with shining alien!slime eyes over at Randy, who only glared back, firm now in his judgement... no matter how incredibly cute JT managed to look with his full and innocent eyes, red now with sadness. Or, wait, that wasn't sadness, that was something else... something that made Randy suspect he should be smelling smoke right about now.

But JT was just gazing at him with tears in his eyes. Randy knew he was being unreasonable - a one-year-old didn't have the mental capacity to knowingly inflict harm on another human being, again and again - and it was ridiculous of him to project his paranoia on JT, now. The teenager had acted nothing short of angelic toward him since their meeting in Frank's house. He sighed. "Thank you, JT," he said finally. "I guess I... overreacted. I'm sorry."

Then Randy furrowed his brow. "I have to ask about the red eyes thing, though..."

"Oh, that?" JT asked. He smiled. "These are contacts. I got them because I'm the lead singer in a rock band, and this is our gimmick." He grinned mischeivously. "And maybe I put them in to freak you out a little."

Randy nodded slowly. "I see. Trying to put on over on the old man, eh?" he asked. JT grinned again and nodded. "Look, I don't know what's going to happen when we get back to Gale, but whatever may come I just want you to know that... well... I'm sorry. I really am." Randy watched JT's fake red eyes fill with tears.

"I'm still pissed as hell at Gale though. What was he thinking, letting you travel all the way out here by yourself? He's so irresponsible!" Randy ground his teeth. "Ever since he got impregnated with alien spawn... no offense," he shot an apologetic glance at JT, "but he's been such a flake, ever since."

Crackbaby RPS 9

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