Thanks go to happier_bunny for looking this over for me! Thanks bunny!
Title: Ma, Can I keep him?
Pairing: B/J, implied E/J; also possibly, inter-species pairing (Hey, we're still not sure of Mikey's parentage)
Warnings: It is afterall a cannibal fic. Nothing squicky, just allusions to things that might make people uncomfortable. The word 'eviscerate' is used quite a bit.
Disclaimers: I don't own Cowlip or the boys. I also do not know the Muffin Man personally but I know he lives on Drury Lane.
Summary: This is crack!fic. It is a cannibal crack!fic. It is tongue-in-cheek black humor. This is the warning within the summary. Debbie is the Sweeney Todd type living in some backwater town (not too far from Pittsburgh) with her mentally disturbed son, Mikey (yes, I stuck to canon) and adopted son, Brian. Justin and Ethan are passing through.
Previous chapters can be found in my memories, here. If you have trouble accessing them there, just use the memories found on my user info page.
"Mmmmm...that feels good," Justin sighed as Brian ran his hand through the boy's hair. "Don't stop."
Brian kept delicately touching Justin's temple, moving over the scar that he had meant to ask about several different times. He wanted to ask now but he didn't want to spoil the mood. They had finished their chores and were now lounging in the high grass, the sun beating down on both of them. A very contented Brian silently prayed, which in itself was strange since he wasn't a praying man, that the never ending stream of distractions the homestead afforded to him would not rear their ugly head at this point.
"Can I pet Justin too?"
And here was one now, Brian thought. This was why Brian didn't bother praying.
"No Theodore," Brian replied while squinting up at the man who stood above them. "Go away. Go into town and bother Emmett." Brian tried to ignore Ted while he rubbed his chin stubble against Justin's bare shoulders, eliciting a "quit it" from the boy followed by a fit of giggles. Brian smiled and kept tickling Justin.
"Can't. You're taking me and Justin shopping, remember?" Ted said.
"I'm taking Justin shopping," Brian replied, silently adding 'why, I don't know.' "Not you," he sighed.
"I need a new shirt. Debbie said to take me and she said, and I quote, 'tell that asshole to get his dick out of Sunshine and take us to town to get clothes.'"
Brian was about to open his mouth and reply with a sarcastic retort when he decided against it.
It was best just to get it over with and leave with Justin now so they could come back all the earlier.
He had plans for the kid tonight.
Brian helped Justin up and the three made their way to the truck. The Mercantile, where Brian and the family bought most of their clothes, feed and all other necessary items needed to run a farm, was owned and operated by a devout Christian Science family, who's fathers and their father's fathers had lived in the town before them.
As the trio walked in, Brian nodded his head in greeting to the woman behind the counter who was soon joined by her grandmother. There were two older gentlemen standing against the counter and Brian nodded to them in turn also.
The younger woman nodded her head in greeting back, "Brian, Ted." The woman took in the form of Justin and raised one perfectly formed eyebrow.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Justin, hi," Justin replied while smiling and waving.
The elderly woman smiled and nodded along with the older men.
"So where do we start?" Justin asked, feeling a bit foolish for having to have the family who was gracious enough to take him in, have to also buy clothes for him.
"I'll pick what you need. Wait here," Brian said as he made a beeline for the back of the store. Ted walked in the opposite direction and Justin took a look around, trying hard to ignore the pair of eyes that were watching him from the counter.
Brian started to go through the rack labeled CARHARTS - ALL OVERALLS 50% OFF against the wall. Fuck Debbie and what she wants, Brian thought. He pulled a pair of black, a pair of denim and a pair of khaki overalls down. He then grabbed two pairs of white overalls. He went to a circular rack crammed full of t-shirts and picked a light blue, short sleeved shirt for those chilly nights. It was very lightweight and he thought Justin would look perfect in it.
One shirt ought to do it. Brian then grabbed a package of underwear and walked over to the counter. "There. We're done." Brian turned to the women. "Ring it up, bag it and put it on our tab." Both women started to nervously ring up the various items.
"Brian! I want to try some of these things on!" Justin said indignantly.
Brian sighed. "There's a dressing room over there," Brian said as he pointed over to a far corner. He looked at the dressing room and then back at Justin. Okay, Brian thought, why shouldn't the kid be able to try these things on? Who was he to deny Justin this little thing.
Brian smiled as he realized he could also relieve the not-so-little thing currently residing under his own overalls.
Brian steered Justin over to the dressing room, pushed him in and then closed the curtain behind them. Brian dove for Justin's overall buckles. "Let's just get these things off you..."
"Brian! You can't be thinking about..." Justin started and then lowered his voice, "fucking in the dressing room?"
"Well...why not?" Brian asked genuinely perplexed.
Justin pointed to a sign above the mirror.
It read THERE WILL BE NO COPULATING OF ANY KIND IN THE DRESSING ROOM - THANKS- THE MANAGEMENT
Brian pushed a very naked Justin up against the wall while preparing him. "We're not copulating, we're fucking."
"I never really thought of it that way," Justin said while he attacked Brian's mouth, all the while Brian was sliding the boy up and putting him in the perfect position to...
"Oh yeah, Brian! Just like that," Justin moaned as Brian entered the willing body against his own.
Outside the dressing room, five sets of shocked faces looked on as they could hear the moaning of the two men and the banging against the room's walls.
"Um, Granny? Shouldn't we stop them? They're copulating in the dressing room and you know how Pa hates that."
The grandmother considered the man who was in the dressing room at the time. She hadn't gotten to the ripe old age of eighty-four by not knowing what was what in their town.
"Well, I'd say they weren't copulating, just fucking," Granny replied.
"Good point," replied her granddaughter.
Ted continued to listen to what was going on in the tiny room. As he became more excited, he reached in to grab his straining erection. He was halted in his process by Granny.
Ted turned around to see both women pointing to a sign above the dressing room door.
It read THERE WILL BE NO MASTURBATING OF ANY KIND, ESPECIALLY NOT TO THE COPULATING THAT IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HAPPENING IN THE DRESSING ROOM, IN THE MERCANTILE. THANK YOU - THE MANAGEMENT.
Ted pouted and continued over to the rack of shirts. The sign said he couldn't so he wouldn't.
10 minutes later
Brian and Justin stumbled out of the dressing room and made their way to the counter. The young woman raised her perfectly arched eyebrow at Brian.
"Ted! Are you done yet?" Brian shouted to Ted.
"Which do you like better?" Ted asked of Justin and Brian as he held up two shirts that were both exactly the same.
Justin looked at both shirts with a confused expression. Brian pointed to the left one, "that one."
Justin leaned toward Brian. "They're both the same though."
"Yeah, well it's Ted," Brian shrugged. Ted took the shirt Brian had pointed out and looked in the pocket. He pulled out a slip of paper. Ted then walked back to the rack.
Brian rubbed his face, "Ted, what the fuck are you doing?"
Before Ted could answer, Brian heard ole' granny tsk behind him. "What?" he asked.
Both women nervously pointed to the sign above the counter.
It read THERE WILL BE NO SWEARING IN THE MERCANTILE. THIS INCLUDES USING DEROGATORY NAMES FOR ANY PART OF THE MALE OR FEMALE ANATOMY OR EXCREMENT. YOU MAY NOT USE THE F WORD IN ITS ADJECTIVE, NOUN OR VERB STATE. ALSO, THERE WILL BE NO BLASPHEMING OR TAKING OF THE LORD'S NAME IN VAIN. THANK YOU - THE MANAGEMENT
Brian forgot about the sign. Brian hated that sign. "Well Christ on a cross and fuck me with a twelve inch cock! I feel like such a goddamned fucking ass. Come on twat, let's pay for this shit so we can get the fuck out of here," Brian said while steering Justin to his side.
"Brian..." Justin said trying to hide his embarrassment while at the same time trying not to laugh.
One of the older men turned to his friend. "Betsy nearly tore my head off the other day when I said I thought my sperm count was being affected by the amount of arsenic Mel was giving me."
"Ted, are you fucking done yet?" Brian yelled at Ted who seemed to be looking through every shirt on the rack.
"They're all the same," Ted said. "I need to find one that's not...," Ted continued while looking in the pocket of each shirt.
"Oh hell..." Brian muttered. "Not this again."
"What?" Justin asked.
Brian walked over to Ted and grabbed him by the elbow. "We don't have time for this Ted. Just take the shirt and let's go."
"No," Ted stated and turned from Brian. "I can't take any of these shirts. There has to be one..." Ted continued to look. He then looked up and yelled. "ALL THESE SHIRTS WERE INSPECTED BY INSPECTOR 8!" Ted looked wildly around. "I can't have a shirt that was done by inspector 8!"
Ted noticed the look on Justin's face and turned to address his confusion. "Inspector 8 is an alien who was sent here from his homeworld to lace all clothing that he came in contact with with listening devices so that he could collect information on us and send the information back to his homeworld thereby learning all our weaknesses so they could be better prepared for when they decide to invade us."
Justin stared back at Ted. For some reason, nothing that came out of Ted's mouth surprised him anymore.
Justin walked over to the rack where Ted found the shirts, looked through some pockets and brought one back to the counter.
"Here," Justin said while handing the shirt over to the woman at the counter, "this one was cleared by inspector 12."
"Thank you," Ted said.
Justin looked at Brian while stood there taking the boy in. "You're right - it is just better to humor him."
Brian smiled - the kid was learning.
After the purchases were wrung up and bagged, the trio left the store and headed back to the homestead.
Meanwhile, somewhere in the middle of hard-working America
Kyle Smith, also known as inspector 8, continued with his boring job in quality control in the Carhart factory. He picked up one of the shirts and re-attached one of his own buttons. Kyle, (and that was definitely not his real name as his real name was forty-five letters long and could only be pronounced by someone from his own world) along with his fellow brethren, were part of quality control in all the major factories across America. They put listening devices, devices that the humans called 'bugs,' into whatever it was they came into contact with - clothing, kitchen appliances, ipods, whatever.
He and his kinsmen had already gathered enough information on the humans to invade them ten times over. However, everytime one of them was about to report the information to homeworld, one of them would stop the other by telling them if they reported the information, their homeworld would then invade earth and then they wouldn't find out what would happen next on their favorite television shows.
It all started back in the early 80's with 'who shot JR?' to the current times, with American Idol and all of their other favorites, including but not limited to series, reality shows, books (Harry Potter was among their favorites) and certain movies and their possible sequels.
Kyle had to suppress a laugh at how ironic it was that most Americans complained about the amount of television there was and it's quality content, when it was that very thing that was keeping their insignificant and tiny planet from being invaded and conquered and consequently, then subjugated.
Only a few more to go and then it would be quitting time. Kyle couldn't wait.
Tonight was a brand new episode of Lost.
Go to Chapter 16
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