Bloggaday 353 – PWND: The Tot Tales: A Very Tweedy Christmas pt 3
By David “doesn’t fumble the ball like a bitch” Dysart
Now, our young Johnny here is my favorite character from The Rookie. Hence, why I wrote a fan fic about him, but to get back on topic, he plays MLB (Defense in football, not Major League Baseball) for the protagonist team, The Krakens. It’s revealed later in the book that he has a brother who also plays in the GFL. Ju plays Running Back (Offense), so of course there’s bound to be some… tension between the two.
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The Tot Tales: A Very Tweedy Christmas
Johnny’s eyes found his own toy, but the sight only dragged his smile into a snarl. Already broad shoulders sagged an inch as he examined it from new angles. Why didn’t he get a football? He was smart enough to play football, and not just be another grunt with a gun.
Ju yelped again. “Mommy, time me to see how long it takes to run to the kitchen!” As he rested a hand on his thigh, he shifted from foot to foot.
Johnny sneered at the punk’s enthusiasm. His gripped tightened on the plastic.
As their mother yelled, “Go!” Johnny could hear Ju’s hmph, but it was the imperceptible steps pumping from the boy that triggered Johnny’s movement.
Johnny slipped back a step and started his swing. He pivoted on the turf and threw the gun into the arc. This will show him, her, all of them.
At his full lean and with feet churning, Ju charged into the broad side of the gun. The plastic started to bend around his face. As his body began to catch up with his head, the P56 Carboin became infected with fractures and cracks until it completely snapped in two.
The gun chunk spun into the air until it smacked the wall. The football, however, floated into the air before coming back down; it bounced against the younger brother’s chest and tumbled away. Johnny spun what remained of the butt of the gun to the grass.
He looked up to his mother’s shrill gasp. She backed into the couch and fell as the boy began stepping towards her. She clawed deeper into the seat, but Johnny just swooped down and palmed the ball. In a double step, he was already standing over Ju.
His younger brother clutched at his nose, the red slickness covering his face and staining the natural carpet. He rocked from side to side, more dramatic than his foot-to-foot shifting from earlier.
As Ju began slamming his own head into the ground, Johnny knelt over him. Wabbling the ball over his smashed face, Johnny smugged, “You’ve got to cover up. Daddy doesn’t fumble the ball like a bitch.”
She Hates Me by Puddle of Mudd
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Close the screen, the awesome’s getting out