Ah, the idiocy
Jul. 28th, 2004 11:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrI came up with this a few days ago, watching old cartoons on Cartoon Network. Reasons why I shouldn't be allowed to do it. But it made me laugh, so I figured it was worth typing out. Little relation to the cartoon in question, mostly just inspired by.
Milk. The bastard had rigged a bowl of milk over the door. He was so dead. Refusing to laugh or otherwise acknowledge that it had been a good prank, Tom pulled the plastic mixing bowl off his head and threw it in the sink. His sneakers smacked wetly on the milk-covered linoleum. He actually thought it was an improvement. Who put olive green linoleum in their house?
Their grandmother, that's who. They'd better make sure they cleaned it up before she got back from bingo or there'd be hell to pay.
But first thing's first. Revenge was in order. Unless Jerry had found his little trap in the basement. That'd do for revenge. He combed back his milk-soaked black hair. More of it had drenched his favorite t-shirt, a soft gray one with palm trees and a parrot. It was where he and dad had met Jerry and his mom. She'd bought it for him, said it brought out the flecks of gray in his green eyes. Which was stupid…but he wore it anyway. It always made her smile.
A startled cry broke the silence, and Tom snickered. He bolted for the basement stairs, grinning down triumphantly at his toppled stepbrother. Who was barely visible beneath the glitter Tom had so carefully arranged before they started in on their personal version of hide and seek.
It was more like a game of search and destroy. With lots booby traps.
Of course the real trick was finding the time to play it. And cleaning up before the adults came back. Lucky them, their parents were gone for two weeks. Two whole weeks! Downside? Stuck at grandma's place. Wasn't as big as their house, fewer places to lay traps. And dad had taken most of their good stuff away. All because Jerry couldn't stop snickering in the back seat.
That's all right. Dad hadn't taken his glitter, and they could buy grandma more milk tomorrow. The feathers might be a bit more difficult to clean up. It was hard stuffing those back into the pillows. At least these days grandma was smart enough to buy the ones with zippers.
"Glitter!" Jerry howled, scrambling to his feet. "Not fair! Dad took my sequins but you got to keep your glitter?"
Tom laughed, clomping down the stair and tackling his stepbrother to the plush beige carpet of the basement. It was where they stayed when they visited. Blankets and pillows and all sorts of their 'hide & seek equipment' were scattered all over. DVD's were stacked haphazardly in front of the TV, and they still hadn't taken up their dishes from yesterday's midnight snack. Probably should do that while they were cleaning.
But right now all that mattered was getting Jerry to concede defeat. Which at this point meant tickling. Worked every time. His stepbrother hated it - sixteen and more ticklish than the munchkins that lived next door to them. Tom didn't mind though; it meant he got to win almost all their games. For now anyway. They might both be sixteen but Jerry was fast becoming the more largely built. So the tickling was about all Tom had on him.
"Okay, okay!" Jerry howled, laughing and gasping for air. His messy brown hair fell in his face, obscuring his blue eyes and flushed cheeks.
Tom grinned, "Admit defeat?"
"I said okay!"
"Admit it!" he resumed the tickling.
"All right! I admit defeat!" Jerry was panting, gasping for air after laughing to hard to breath. He grinned, face and shirt and hair still covered in glitter. Like he had rainbow sprinkle, shiny freckles.
Tom dropped his head until they were nose to nose. "So what's my reward?"
"Same as always," his brother chirped.
"That'll work," Tom closed the remaining distance and kissed him soundly, slowly.
He'd just started working on their t-shirts when death bellowed down the stairs. In his grandmother's voice.
"TOM! JERRY!"
Cat and Mouse
Milk. The bastard had rigged a bowl of milk over the door. He was so dead. Refusing to laugh or otherwise acknowledge that it had been a good prank, Tom pulled the plastic mixing bowl off his head and threw it in the sink. His sneakers smacked wetly on the milk-covered linoleum. He actually thought it was an improvement. Who put olive green linoleum in their house?
Their grandmother, that's who. They'd better make sure they cleaned it up before she got back from bingo or there'd be hell to pay.
But first thing's first. Revenge was in order. Unless Jerry had found his little trap in the basement. That'd do for revenge. He combed back his milk-soaked black hair. More of it had drenched his favorite t-shirt, a soft gray one with palm trees and a parrot. It was where he and dad had met Jerry and his mom. She'd bought it for him, said it brought out the flecks of gray in his green eyes. Which was stupid…but he wore it anyway. It always made her smile.
A startled cry broke the silence, and Tom snickered. He bolted for the basement stairs, grinning down triumphantly at his toppled stepbrother. Who was barely visible beneath the glitter Tom had so carefully arranged before they started in on their personal version of hide and seek.
It was more like a game of search and destroy. With lots booby traps.
Of course the real trick was finding the time to play it. And cleaning up before the adults came back. Lucky them, their parents were gone for two weeks. Two whole weeks! Downside? Stuck at grandma's place. Wasn't as big as their house, fewer places to lay traps. And dad had taken most of their good stuff away. All because Jerry couldn't stop snickering in the back seat.
That's all right. Dad hadn't taken his glitter, and they could buy grandma more milk tomorrow. The feathers might be a bit more difficult to clean up. It was hard stuffing those back into the pillows. At least these days grandma was smart enough to buy the ones with zippers.
"Glitter!" Jerry howled, scrambling to his feet. "Not fair! Dad took my sequins but you got to keep your glitter?"
Tom laughed, clomping down the stair and tackling his stepbrother to the plush beige carpet of the basement. It was where they stayed when they visited. Blankets and pillows and all sorts of their 'hide & seek equipment' were scattered all over. DVD's were stacked haphazardly in front of the TV, and they still hadn't taken up their dishes from yesterday's midnight snack. Probably should do that while they were cleaning.
But right now all that mattered was getting Jerry to concede defeat. Which at this point meant tickling. Worked every time. His stepbrother hated it - sixteen and more ticklish than the munchkins that lived next door to them. Tom didn't mind though; it meant he got to win almost all their games. For now anyway. They might both be sixteen but Jerry was fast becoming the more largely built. So the tickling was about all Tom had on him.
"Okay, okay!" Jerry howled, laughing and gasping for air. His messy brown hair fell in his face, obscuring his blue eyes and flushed cheeks.
Tom grinned, "Admit defeat?"
"I said okay!"
"Admit it!" he resumed the tickling.
"All right! I admit defeat!" Jerry was panting, gasping for air after laughing to hard to breath. He grinned, face and shirt and hair still covered in glitter. Like he had rainbow sprinkle, shiny freckles.
Tom dropped his head until they were nose to nose. "So what's my reward?"
"Same as always," his brother chirped.
"That'll work," Tom closed the remaining distance and kissed him soundly, slowly.
He'd just started working on their t-shirts when death bellowed down the stairs. In his grandmother's voice.
"TOM! JERRY!"
