>"Wizards can't have electric guitars!"
"Yeah huh!"
>"Nuh-uh!"
>This petty back and forth with your friend has been going on for several minutes and will continue until you've won...
>Or until you two part ways on the way back to your houses after leaving the school bus.
>"Wizards didn't have electric ANYTHING back then, you stupid idiot!"
"Wizards are magic! They can do whatever they want!"
>"Electricity is NOT magic!"
"How do YOU know?"
>"Because it just isn't, okay?!"
"Explain Palpatine in Star Wars, then! He zaps people with electricity all the time."
>"Doesn't count. Not magic."
"What do you mean that isn't magic? The Force is totally magic!"
>"They never called it magic, dooface!"
"So what? They didn't have to."
>"Not. Magic."
"That's stupid, it's obviously magic!"
>"Okay, so is Superman magic?"
"Um... well..."
>"C'mon, answer me! If Palpatine is magic then so is Superman!"
"That doesn't count. Superman's superpowers come from the sun."
>"What's the difference? Why wouldn't that be magic by your logic?"
"Because the sun is the SOURCE of his power! It's not magic that comes out of nowhere."
>"Except his ability to turn the sun into his powers would count as magic, right?"
"That's not the same, you dork. Palpatine is magic, Superman has superpowers."
>"No, stupid!"
"So wizards are more like Palpatine and can have electric guitars. End of story."
>"And you're calling ME a dork?"
"Yeah, yeah I am. Dork."
>"You're dorkier!" Your friend shoves you into the springy barrier of someone's hedge.
>In reflexive retaliation, your lurch right back out at him with vengeance in your glare, shoving your friend twice as hard over the border separating concrete from asphalt.
>Your bad luck is the shrill screech of a car's tires, and your worse luck is your friend's pained yelp after the grill of the car collides with his arm.
>The loudness of the sound of him hitting the asphalt of the street spells out bad news for you.
>Stare up through the passenger's side window at the driver's distraught expression that still shines through the window tint.
>With a saucer-wide pair of eyes that look like they were the ones between the car's headlights instead.
>The weight of your shock holds your tongue down, keeping you from being able to utter a single word; your fight or flight response chooses the latter.
>The pitter patter of your tennis shoes against the pavement is the only thing your mind is able to process for the second or two it takes for your friend to process the pain sinking in and start letting out bloodcurdling screams of agony.
>And the only thing making the screams quieter is the continued pitter patter of your tennis shoes that distances you from the scene.
>All the way until you're too far away to hear the screams clearly.
>Which does take a while.
>But your mind has slipped into survival mode
>Didn't even realize you've ran clear past your own house.
>But that's the least of your problems.
~
>Does it matter who was wrong regarding magic and superpowers?
>Does it matter that your friend was the one who shoved you first?
>Does it matter that you were the one who shoved him into the street?
>No, No, and Yes.
>At least, that's what you're told as your Playstation 2 is carried out of your room by your mom while your dad yells at you.
>"I can't believe how disappointed in you I am!" His infuriated stare matches his booming voice echoing off the walls. "I've had enough trouble with your brothers, and now YOU?!"
>Too stubborn to see the fault in your actions, you sit on the side of your bed and glare daggers up at him, knowing your two brothers are listening through the wall giggling at you finally getting grounded too like the crabs in the bucket they are.
>"You can give me that look all you want, you're not tough! You need to learn self-control, and by God I am going to smack in into you if I have to!"
>His open palm whipped across your face as he said that, letting off a reverberating slapping sound you just know made your brothers have more difficulty stifling their laughter in the other room.
>Red in the face from yelling so much, your dad glares down at you in enraged disappointment, his now slightly pained eyes hinting that cliché of "that hurt me more than it hurt you" in response to the slap across your face he delivered.
>You're not really sure what to do next, so you just sit there on your bed while your father continues to berate you, swearing he's going to raise both you and your younger twin brothers right.
>That land-ruling wizard with an electric guitar you've always imagined yourself as, right now, is still sat atop his bed with his parents taking turns scolding him and telling him he should be thankful his friend from school is alive and only in the hospital with minor injuries.
>Really cramps your style, doesn't it?
>The situation itself was still juuuuuuust serious enough to warrant an exchange of insurance information between the parents.
>It both does and doesn't help that the driver had recently been driving extra carefully ever since almost running over a neighbor's pet, and here's why:
>The owner had stopped in front of the car holding her hand out, and the driver was confused until he saw her pick the tiny leopard gecko off of the street.
>She kindly waved him off like it wasn't his fault, but he's felt so guilty and paranoid ever since that he always drives extra slowly and carefully now.
>And because of that, your friend was not killed, in the light of the car not hitting him so hard on account of the driver's guilty paranoia.
>But that also meant the car coming up quietly enough behind the two of you to not be easily noticed during your heated altercation.
>And you shoving your friend out into the street was something the driver had NOT expected.
>Good thing that gecko really lowered the cost of that would-be vehicular tragedy, albeit somewhat helping it happen at the same time.
>---
>After spending the longest feeling day of your life cooped up in your room without TV or video games, you mope with tiny storm clouds over your head.
>Your bitterness blinds you from the fact that your friend got hurt pretty badly the other day.
>The negative sentiment would have had you acting out a gruesome murder with your action figures on the floor had your parents not also taken them out of your room too in order to punish you with the absolute absence of fun.
>You've been told you're too old to play with action figures these days anyway.
>Well if you're not gonna do that, or play video games, or watch TV, what the hell are you even gonna do for fun in here?
>There is nothing else can can think to do in here but sit and stare at the ceiling waiting to fall asleep.
>This is how every single day during your two week grounding goes... coupled with your parents warning you to be grateful that you weren't grounded for a month.
>That already happened once when you fought (and very quickly lost to) a rainbow haired girl at school after teasing another shy pink haired girl, who was her friend, apparently.
>That was the worst month of your life (so far), and was even worse than the echoes of that first girl's punches she had delivered that you still felt several days later.
>The teasing you gave the shy girl was paid back to you sevenfold when other boys at school teased you for getting beat up by a girl, even though they knew deep down she'd whoop them as well if they stepped to her.
>That's how your grounding got extended to a month in the first place: getting into a turbulent fight with one of the other boys laughing at you and finally reclaiming some dignity amongst your peers.
>But even half of that month long timeframe sucks to not be allowed to do anything fun.
>You'd be the dominant older sibling if your younger brethren had not been doubled into twins who can use strength in numbers.
>Their taunting is the worst because all three of you are already grounded together for various antics, and you're all stuck together like Hatfields and McCoys trapped in an elevator together.
>Except this time, all your last names are the same, and your mom and dad can't figure out how they're going to keep track of all three of you troublemakers whenever you're supposed to stay grounded when home alone.
>That's when they settled on hiring that pink girl with bright hair to be your babysitter.
~
>There's this "rated T for teens" space alien shooter game you've been playing for some number of weeks now.
>Unable to get past a few certain levels for quite some time, due to you being too dumb to figure out how to use a simple game mechanic that was always right there in the manual you didn't read.
>Oh, the hours of toil you underwent sitting on your bed trying to figure out how to simply leave a room on the map.
>Having already gotten the gist of blasting the green spacesuit aliens with antennae with your laser gun, you were quite frustrated by this simple obstacle.
>Almost insulted by how it would hold back a space warrior such as yourself from doing what you do best.
>There was no reason for that to have been such an ordeal for you, and your aggravated grunt of "OH COME OOOOOOOOONN!" angrily sang through the walls over to your younger twin brothers' room the moment you figured out how to get to the next room in the game.
>It was through an air vent connected to the floor you had to press a button to open which you weren't used to pressing when you were busy racking up that kill streak.
>So many hours wasted, but you used the wrath as something to take out on the next batch of enemies that didn't stand a chance against you.
>You've been ready for the final boss for several levels by now.
>The next day or two had been spent working your way towards the final level in the game where you would face the final boss, now extra powered up from your little mishap with not knowing a game mechanic that should have been easy to figure out.
>Each day included a few hours of playing until you either got tired or had to go do your homework or some other stupid stuff that got in the way.
>Once again, you were on a roll.
>Inching closer to that final battle you were SURE you were going to win against that pesky final boss you had been taunting back from your bed after he taunted you from in the game.
>You were charged up all day at school, excited to get back home and defeat that final boss once and for all.
>...And then you got grounded after your friend was hit by a car.
>Your console was hauled out of your room while your father berated you, killing your whole vibe in addition to ruining your day and entire next month.
>This entire chain of events was going through your mind every day when you sat on your bed without your console in your room... or your TV plugged in to be able to even be switched on.
>Only reason why the TV itself wasn't hauled out of your room was because it's one of those bulky heavy box TVs that are too much of a hassle to lug around, especially up and down a flight of stairs.
>So your parents just settled on taking the cables and wires away; you can't even turn the darned thing on regardless.
>You were supposed to feel bad about what you did.
>But you just want the video game back so you can complete it.
>There's an opportunity rearing its head right around the corner just for you:
>The entire weekend your parents are going to be away in about another week or so from now.
>And it looks like they may be taking your two younger twin brothers with them for the family trip.
>You're convinced that your parents are just gullible, because they still haven't seemed to learn how you are with sitters.
>A long history of you being nasty and annoying to past babysitters is your battle record, which shouldn't have been continued since you've gotten older now.
>Too old to need any more of that lame corny babysitter stuff, but still know how ungovernable you've become whenever your parents aren't home and it's just you and your little legion of brothers running the place like Lord Of The Flies.
>It's more or less something you're ashamed to be proud of.
>No sitter can tame you, you've taken on sitters who were both men and women, all of whom were middle aged and didn't have the stamina to keep up with three little brats running around spilling chocolate milk and hitting the walls with mini hockey sticks at 11 at night.
>And nowadays, your goal is less to annoy the sitter (which can easily be done) and more to break into the basement room you know your console and wires are so you can beat that video game already.
>Of course, that can't happen until the upcoming 3-day weekend during which the trip takes place, lest your younger brothers tell on you out of "if we can't play video games then neither can you" spite.
>You only remind yourself of this due to the fact that you're also being babysat tonight too, along with your two brothers.
>Obviously, your parents want to get this brand new sitter they just hired to get used to dealing with you before leaving for 3 days.
>She will deal with three of you for one day before dealing with one of you for three days.
>Sounds straightforward enough for your parents, but it sounds like a challenge to you.
>All you're imagining is how your favorite characters in Saturday morning cartoons would approach this new episode of your life.
>You can't wait to find ways to make this babysitter crack around the edges then cave in just like all the others before her.
>Looking forward to using the tiny screwdriver from the tool shed in the backyard to unlock the door in the basement.
>Whoever this babysitter turns out to be, you'll analyze her methods tonight and see what it takes to either slip past her guard or exhaust her into giving up trying to control you.
>In your bedroom, you do your little evil laugh because you're also the villain as well as the main character in this Saturday morning cartoon that is your life.
>Nevermind the fact that you're too old to watch Saturday morning cartoons and not have it be at least a little weird for your age, at least that's what some of your friends at school have been giving you the vibe of.
>Eh, screw them.
~
>She's here.
>You see a car pull up in the driveway, hearing what must be music coming from inside the vehicle, but your view of whoever gets out is blocked by the corner of the roof over the garage as usual.
>It doesn't take your parents long to respond to the doorbell ringing, and the front door is swung open before you know it.
>"Hi!" A bright and cheerful voice chimes into the front room, evoking a very friendly reaction from your parents. "The uhh... Elf family?"
>Yup, she has the right place, and this is the sitter you've had to prepare for.
>A few minutes of your parents conversing with the babysitter go by before the sounds of your two younger brothers entering the front room dissipates it all into more hellos and stuff.
>In your room you sit, like a brooding demon just waiting to emerge from the shadows as you plan your dramatic entrance.
>You want this babysitter to remember this moment, the day she met her worst nightmare.
>Practice your evil grin in the mirror, putting on your favorite T-shirt you love to wear on special occasions when you're you're the most yourself.
>It feels like your favorite suit of armor.
>Your black T-shirt with super rad looking skulls and bones on it.
>It's what you put on either when you're gonna spend the day doing something really cool and fun, or when you're about to do bad things like the little villain you are.
>And it just so happens that both are the case on this day.
>Only a few minutes later and your parents are calling up the stairs for you. "Come down and meet Cadance!"
>Oh, what a foolish mistake they made, calling you downstairs and having yet another doomed babysitter watch over you when you're even too old for one these days anyway.
>They will rue this day!
>Menacingly open your bedroom door and slither down the second floor hallway, soon peering over the bannister like a ruthless emperor looking down his nose at gladiators in the Colosseum.
>---
>Candy pulled up into the driveway after making sure she was at the right house.
>The bubblegum from her mouth stretches as far as it can go as she blows her last bubble for the day, letting the sweet morsel give off a loud pop before turning off the engine of the car her parents just got her.
>The thumping EDM she was playing through the speakers goes silent.
>Candy can hear herself breathe once more.
>The house towers over her after she opens the door and lets the breeze brush by her smooth shoulders.
>After finding somewhere reasonable outside to throw away the discarded bubblegum, she shuts the door and stretches for a brief moment while she knows no one can see her at this vantage point yet.
>Especially no one inside the house... don't want to get the family suspicious about the way she arrived dressed like this.
>Tight denim jeans with a clingy black tank top with shoulder straps too thin to hide her bra straps decorating her silky skin.
>A distant daytime owl hoots in the distance as another gentle breeze tickles Candy's shoulders.
>Candy licks her lips once then slips into a jacket before appearing before the parents, then heads up to the front door.
>Rings the doorbell once and waits, wondering if these three she's to watch over are going to be loud or quiet.
>The mother and father answer the door at the same time.
>"Hi! The uhh, Elf family?" Candy gives them a friendly point to indicate she's taking a guess.
>"That's us!" The father answers. "Come on in!"
>"You must be..." The mother begins, not remembering the sitter's name off the top of her head yet.
>"Cadance. Right?" The father fills in.
>"That's me." A very bubbly Cadance puts on her family-friendly persona while humbly trotting into the front room. "It's nice to meet you, your house looks so pretty!"
>"I just rearranged all the pillows and curtains the other day!" The mother responds with a warm smile. "I'm glad you like it!"
>"See? I knew the tapestry was a good idea!" The father joins in again, looking over at the large canvas of a beautiful forest path draped over one of the far walls.
>"Oh hush, I never said not to put it up!" The mother playfully puts her hands on her hips and laughs. "I just didn't want you going up on that ladder too many times."
>Candy plays along with the friendly introductory conversation with the parents for some time before the sound of small tennis shoes galloping against the hard kitchen floor diverts everyone's attention towards itself.
>"Oh, here's two of our sons now!" The father swallows his previous disappointment to still proudly introduce his sons to a new person, prior to hoping that disappointment won't have a reason to resurface this time.
>"Hey there, little guys! Aren't you just adorable!" Candy leans down a little bit to pat them on the heads while they play "Cowboys And Indians" with little plastic toy guns in the midst of circling around their parents introducing them by name to the pink girl from the local high school.
>Amused, Candy looks on at them, but is glad she's not going to have to put up with them for more than just today and tonight if what she remembers is correct.
>Hopefully, she can send them to bed early or something so she can have some peace and quiet once it's nighttime.
>"They're the youngest ones." The mother starts. "I'm sure you can see they're quite the handful."
>"Oh that won't be a problem. They're only for today and tonight, yes?"
>"Yep. It's our older one who's gotten himself in a little trouble recently." The father starts off but doesn't go too far into detail. "He's the one you'll have to keep an eye on."
>"No problem." Candy nods as the daytime owl hoots outside once again.
>She almost wants to give you a look as she sees you peer over the bannister within the next couple of minutes.
>At very first sight, she can tell that you're one of those troublemakers that try to look mean.
>Not knowing how adorable they are when they do so.
>Your slow descent down the stairs isn't nearly as menacing as you think it is, but Candy doesn't bother popping your bubble for now.
>"This is Cadance. She's gonna be hanging out here for today until we get home." Your father steps aside so you can see her.
>This sitter is nowhere near as old as you thought she'd be.
>She looks way closer to your age than your parents' ages.
>There's a little hint of something you don't know how to identify that you swallow instead of your childish pride.
>It happened right when you saw her, but you didn't think anything else of it after you parents started talking to you again about how they're about to leave.
>They were waiting for Cadance to arrive so they could head off.
>Damn, they really didn't want to deal with you for any longer today, and you weren't even doing anything besides staying grounded.
>Which, of course, made its way into the conversation.
>A conversation that led to your father giving the babysitter the keys to his tool shed.
>He gives you a look that says "you think I didn't find out last time you used my screwdriver kit to unlock doors?".
>It's explained that you're not allowed to play video games or watch TV, and that the basement room the console and wires are locked inside of is to remain off limits with the door locked.
>You begin to fume, smoke coming out of your ears and a tea kettle noise rising from your throat.
>"Make sure he doesn't pickpocket the keys off of ya." You dad takes one last verbal jab before getting his jacket.
>Only a couple of minutes later and your parents are out the door, leaving you and your two brothers alone with this babysitter you just met.
>It happened before you could even process it; you were just about to go back into your room and continue being your cringe self when the door shut while your brothers innocently continued their little game in the living room.
>There wasn't enough time to get the introduction out of the way before she started up the stairs.
>Your parents already drove away by the time it's too late to flee to your room... you didn't know you were supposed to flee.
>For it's also already too late regarding something else you're not aware of yet.
>You don't understand the soon-to-last implications of Candy jingling the keys in front of you, dropping them into your hands.
>You don't realize it yet, but she's gaining leverage.
>"It's okay. I'm a cool babysitter." Candy grins.
~






>A little funny that she still made you have to sneak past your spiteful younger twin brothers and "break in" to your dad's tool shed yourself in order to get to the screwdriver you've used to get past the locked basement door containing your stuff.
>This in and of itself is a quest.
>A task, and you'e determined to figure this out as this "cool babysitter" rests herself onto the family room sofa and seemingly waits to see what you'll do as your brothers continue their horsing around.
>Meanwhile, Candy silently giggles to herself knowing that the key to the basement door itself is on the same key ring she gave to you, and you still haven't figured it out yet.
>You try to figure out when your brothers will be away from a visual vantage point of the backyard for long enough for you to perform the daring operation.
>But you also consider just using a knife from the kitchen which has never worked before, but you're feeling adventurous on this day.
>Feeling like you've already defeated your babysitter by teaming up with her somehow, no longer having to worry about overwhelming her or stressing her out with nonsense.
>It's like you skipped past a few levels of this Saturday morning cartoon that is your current life.
>The fact that you've been depraved of real fun for so long is what's really fueling you.
>Having had to use your imagination so much more instead of having at least 70% of the thinking done for you in TV and video games.
>There's a healthy amount of excitement that comes from this.
>You can almost feel intense music playing in the marrow of your bones, pumping adrenaline into your blood as the cells are produced before surging through your veins.
>Hiding behind the sofa like it's a giant boulder and your younger twin brothers are a couple of bandits trying to hunt you down.
>They're gonna love inheriting the same imaginativeness you inherited once they start reaching your age.
>But right now, you'll never let them stand in your way.
>The little plastic toy guns in their hands cannot point at you quickly enough before you dodge out of the way.
>You're too quick, playing along with them just to eventually trick them into leaving sight of the backyard.
>Your brothers Forest Elf and Wood Elf eventually gallop down to the basement to pretend it's an enemy mine to continue their little pretend gunfight in.
>You watch them submerge into the darkness behind the rock as the sun drenched dirt and stone beneath your boots leaves imprints from your legendary footsteps.



>The grass of the backyard does the same for each of your long strides while you make your way over to the tool shed.
>Supposing that she should have started up a fun and innocent little activity with the three boys she's babysitting on this weekend day, Candy simply settles for settling herself down onto the couch and watching everyone else's behavior first.
>Boys this age usually let their weaknesses shine through more when they aren't aware they're being watched.
>She'll let you all feel like you have the whole day under your own control then let your guard down.
>Especially since you probably expected her to try to get you all to introduce yourselves then do chores or something in the first hours and instead is letting you do whatever you want.
>A distant daytime owl can be heard singing a tune at you before the click clack of the shed door unlocking interrupts it.
>Twirl the key ring on your finger while trotting into the tiny room of your dad's tool shed, scanning the place for the screwdriver you usually need for jimmying the lock to the door in the basement.
>It's not on the shelf it's usually on, but your determination leads you to the right loud toolbox harboring the very thing you need.
>Like a mini excalibur in your hands, the tiny screwdriver points up to the ragged, splinter-coated wooden beams of the shed's ceiling.
>A coy smile spreads across your face as your second set of footprints in the backyard's lush grass spreads its way back to the sliding glass door back into the kitchen.
>You'll lock he shed door back up after the deed is done, or maybe earlier since you suspect your parents might come back home too early for you to have a lot of time to play the game.
>Maybe that is what Cadance was trying to do, get you to jump into playing the game so you lose track of time then get caught after forgetting that your parents might come home in the same night.
>Nah, babysitters aren't smart enough for that.
>There's definitely something about the way she looks at you from the living room sofa, something peculiar about her you don't quite understand yet.
>She looks really pretty, by far the prettiest babysitter you've ever had to put up with making put up with you.
>That combined with her being the nicest babysitter puts her further into your good books than you knew there was space for.
>Cadance's bare arms and shoulders are so soft and smooth looking, distracting you from your usual persona you're used to being lost in.
>If your younger twin brothers are your enemies, then babysitter Cadance is your ally, or a super-ally if we're going with what she's making this feel like.



>You didn't realize how long you were just standing in place while she smiled at you with a widening grin, too pretty to have it be awkward for some reason.
>Internally shame yourself for getting so distracted and begin planning how you're going to subvert your two bothers in the basement, which you nearly completely forgot about.
>Had it not been for the noise they're making down there, you'd have waltzed right down those stairs with the screwdriver in plain view like it has a little white flag tied to it bearing the words "tell on me".
>You're not about to admit that to yourself in full, you'll never let how pretty a girl is get to you like that, you're too much of a legend.
>"I got you!" One of your brothers chimes to the other before a bunch of boxes fall over. "You're dead, I got you!"
>"Nuh uh! You missed!"
>"I didn't miss!"
>"Yeah you did!"
>There's no easy way to creep down the stairs without the creaking noises reaching their ears, and their attention is turned towards you as you keep the screwdriver in the back pocket of your denim jeans.
>"There's one of the sheriffs now!" A small pair of hands points the toy gun at you before firing away imaginary bullets.
>You used gravity to your advantage with the jump you just did, raising eyebrows on the surprised faces below before swiping one of the guns out of one of your younger brothers' hands.
>"Hey!" The inevitable protest gripes while you pop his comrade in the head with a more effectively imagined bullet that even he has to agree hit him at such a close range.
"Got you." You give your other younger brother a sly grin with a twirl of the little plastic toy gun in your finger with more enthusiasm than when you did the same with the key ring in your other back pocket.
>"No fair!"
"Yes fair." You finish him off with an extra imaginary bullet right between his eyebrows just like in the R-rated movies you've recently started watching to prove that they don't disturb you.
>"Pew! Pew pew pew!" Your younger brother returns imaginary fire anyway, refusing to accept the fact that he died just like you used to when laser tag didn't go your way.
>Bless the innocent confidence in his voice, the determined glint in his eyes as he expects you to go down, waiting for you to be sprawled onto the floor in a cartoonish death pose face down with one arm over your back.
>You remain on your feet with the same unwavering grin letting him know that he's a ghost who can't kill you before your words make sure he gets the message.



>"I got you!" Your younger brother repeats.
"You're a ghost now, you can't get me." You tell him. "Too bad, so sad!"
>Meanwhile, your other younger twin brother whom your snatched the toy gun from has decided to take matters into his own hands... in the form of a 2 by 4 wooden plank.
>The sudden whack sounding from the impact on your arm registers in your ears before your brain registers the pain it brings.
"OW!!! What the hell!?" You cry out.
>The first twin brother steps back as the second one holding the wooden plank glares into your soul with eyes that aren't usually upon his face.
>They might as well be glowing red even through they aren't, but the way his brow furrows between his eyebrows ages him up at least a decade in his appearance for the moment.
>One of the rare moments in life when hatred is pure, whether temporary or permanent, the rage in his eyes sends a chill up your spine especially for a young boy his age.
>Makes you wonder where the hell all that came fro-
"AH!" You stumble back as he swings again with every last bit of stamina he is able to muster from his evident anger management issues. "Hey! That hurts!"
>He doesn't respond at first and just takes another swing, with full intent of hurting you as much as he possibly can while his twin nervously watches in silence.
>And each and every swing he takes at you is equally matched by the next one's raw determination to demonstrate this this is no longer a carefree moment of innocent playing.
>He's 100% not able to since his strength is nowhere near enough to do any serious damage, but you could see for a brief half-second in his eyes that he actually wants to kill you for *real*.
>You were hoping another moment like this wouldn't resurface, and your parents especially were.
>Things were going so great too since the last time.
>Your younger brothers didn't get grounded so often for no reason.
>Candy sits on the living room sofa listening to the racket coming from the basement, before listening to the stairs creaking from someone ascending their way back to the ground floor.
>She quickly discovers that you've reached the top of the stairs once more with your hand over one of your arms, but you're not about to explain why.
>You very easily could have overpowered your smaller younger brother while his accomplice was just standing there in shock, and took the wooden plank out of his hand he picked off of the unfinished concrete floor and told him not to play with those.



>But you have bigger fish to fry that are still locked behind that door your brothers were unwittingly blocking, plus you don't want to get into even trouble.
>"I'm telling dad you used swear words!" Your less-normal younger twin brother points the wooden plank up at you with residue of that look in his eyes still locking glances with you up the stairs.
"I'm telling dad you hit me with one of the pieces of wood!" You rebut.
>"Do it, I don't care! You swore anyway! Dad said no more swearing!"
>"Okay, okay okay, let's all come back up to the living room and watch TV, alright? Maybe a movie." Babysitter Candy finally steps in after she can hear in everyone's tone that the lightheartedness has ended. "Wood Elf, Forest Elf, come back up here! We're watching a movie now!"
>With the plank still in his grasp, your tiny attacker responds with a concerning "I'm already watching a movie..." as he menacingly approaches his twin brother like they're two early Romans.
>"I said let's go!" Candy raises her voice. "Don't make me come down there!"
>There's a brief moment of hesitation at first, but Candy's sudden stern-ness must have done the trick.
>The wooden plank can be heard clattering to the unfinished concrete floor, which is followed by the creaking of two sets of footsteps ascending the stairs as you still refuse to acknowledge that one of your younger brothers should be getting into more trouble than he is right now.
>He's lucky you aren't really worried about that right now, and *really* lucky you didn't whale on him when you had the chance, because you'd have made him feel really sorry about that very fast had you chosen to do so.
>"C'mon, what channel you little scamps usually watch?" Candy directs her attention to the TV, seeking the remote after being unable to find it after a whole minute. "What, did your parents take the remote with them too?"
"Probably." Your reply, knowing that you wouldn't even be surprised if this was true.
>You *are* supposed to be grounded anyway...
>But as it turns out, the remote happens to be on a nearby bookshelf, which had your brothers rejoicing until the TV flipped on to reveal that all the fun cartoon channels are blocked from viewing as part of your punishment.
>Looks like the parental block on the adult channels expanded its territory to block the kids channels too, leaving nothing but the news and sports and cooking and CSPAN and those channels with soap operas that only old people like.
>Along with a bunch of other uninteresting things that appear on the screen as Babysitter Cadance flips through channels after channel that doesn't have the [blocked] message appearing.



>You *are* supposed to be grounded anyway...
>Initially, you were distracted by the fact that Cadance was handing those keys to you, but now you're really starting to notice a lot about her.
>Her appearance, mostly.
>Something about her makes you feel funny and you can't put your finger on what it is yet...
>You've suddenly stopped caring about the missing channels you used to care so much about and instead go back to thinking about how smooth Babysitter Cadance's shoulders are, and the way her bright locks of hair look so soft to the touch.
>Now you wish you had a video game to play to distract you from this mushy stuff intruding its way into your head.
>The whining from your two younger brothers gets louder and louder as the number of channels left unexplored grows smaller and smaller.
>They've already forgotten about the basement and are more bummed out about there being nothing to watch on TV all night long and probably tomorrow morning too.
"I don't understand. We had all the channels before they left." You comment with your heart only slightly sinking, Babysitter Cadance's presence somehow keeping it partially afloat for mysterious reasons. "They even let us watch stuff."
>"Maybe they just wanted to get a point across." Babysitter Cadance shrugs, letting her smooth shoulders brush against her soft lustrous hair right in front of you.
"Can't imagine what point that is." You eventually respond after an angry pause.
>An educational documentary airing on one of those National Geographic channels is settled on.
>Which would help you go to bed early with how its boringness would put the three of you to sleep.
>You sulk into he couch as your two younger brothers are still too close to the door to the basement not to notice you walking back out with your console in your hands.
>It's not exactly small enough to fit into your back pocket or anything like that.
>Slow wide-panned shots of a scenic landscape are pained across the family room's TV's screen while your brothers gripe about not being able to play "Cowboys and Indians" anymore.
>Which is confusing, since that glare from earlier indicated it was closer to "Pakistanis and Indians".
>But you can sense it: you're about to get your grubby little hands on that gaming console, since Babysitter Cadance already demonstrated that she's entirely on your side on the matter.
>If your parents really are gone for the whole night, then there's nothing that can stand in your way.


>Babysitter Cadance, after noticing you glancing over towards the entrance into the basement, asks your younger twin brothers if they'd like to to play their little game in the backyard at dusk after she makes them some snacks.
>Needless to say, their entire evening is saved, and their imaginations run wild with plans to stage a little standoff at sundown with their tall shadows stretching across the lush green grass.
>As they excitedly run around the front room pretending to shoot one another with their toy guns, you watch Babysitter Cadance quickly go out back to make sure the shed door is closed without a trace of you having done anything to be ratted out for.
>The sun is starting to go down, if the sky has anything to indicate about that.
>But this is confirmed as soon as your brothers simply can't freaking wait to follow Babysitter Cadance outside right as she was about to come back inside, giving you the cue to slink on down the basement stairs to the locked door at the end of your current objective.
>You almost tripped on the way down, ear-numb to the creaking of the stairs you've gotten used to.
>Slip the screwdriver out of your pocket as usual, do everything you need to do, faster than you thought you would...
>Swing the door open to find an empty room.
>Your parents must have taken everything with them, having anticipated your antics might overwhelm this babysitter who's only watching over you for the first time.
>Looks like you'll have to find another way to have fun tonight...


>---
>You can already guess what the expression dangling off of your face looks like as you now sit in one of the kitchen chairs trying to figure out what you're going to do tonight.
>Now everything seems to feel like a chore since all you can do now is wait until your parents come back.
>A chore and a grounding has now fused into a final boss of nofun-ness.
>Both of your brothers are running wild in the backyard almost as much as their imaginations are.
>You're too old to have fun the way they are these days.
>Action figures are starting to get old, you just want video games and TV now.
>In some weird empathy for your younger brother, you feel a swell of the need for violence begin with you.
>The cooling air outside can't do a lot to calm you down with figurative steam still coming out of your ears.
>Your tennis shows stomp across the grass as gently as they can.
>Watching your two younger brothers run around having fun together while you once again play zero video games today has you wishing you could bring them down a little too.
>Even though they didn't even know about your little plan to sneak your console up to your room before discovering that was an impossibility.
>You just want to get back at them for you yourself having bad luck.
>Beef with these two younger twin brothers of yours goes back far enough for spite to play a pivotal role in all of this anyway.
>In reality, you're just mad as hell and wanting to vent it out on how much better you are at playing childish games you are than your younger brothers.
>You're caught between feeling a weight having been lifted off of your shoulders, and still waiting for a greater weight to be lifted off of your shoulders.
>No longer do you have to worry about your mission to sneak your gaming console up to your room, but now you have to wait even longer until you get to play your games again.
>And you probably won't even get another chance during the upcoming weekend when you'll be alone with this babysitter who's obviously on your side.
>Wood and Forest meanwhile have shifted their backyardigans shenanigans to pretending the bricks lining between the mulch and the grass are a racetrack.
>You almost feel like an aerial view looking down upon them from a bird's eye perspective.
>Start to menacingly chase them around to scare them, and they instantly play along by running away from you.
>You figure you're way too old to be doing this lame stuff, but you can't do anything else tonight and you wanna show each of them who's boss anyway.


>Candy meanwhile watches from the kitchen, twirling the key ring in her hand he same way she had watched you do so.
>She can't help but let a grin creep across her face knowing what she knows.
>It's a sinister grin, a grin that looks forward to the near future whether it be tonight or the upcoming weekend when she's here all alone with you.
>That grin intensifies as she watches you dart around the backyard with your brothers, trying to immerse yourself in their race car fictional world as much as they're immersed into it in their minds.
>A giggle of giddiness was lucky to only bubble out now where and when you can't hear her, because something about that tone would give away Candy's ulterior motives to even a boy your age.
>Candy knows she probably still has homework to do, so tonight might not be the night she truly strikes.
>But when she does, it'll be more impactful than anything you've experience in your life so far.
>She can see it, in the innocence of your playful movements while pretending to be Godzilla stomping all over the hot-wheels cars your two younger brothers brought out into the backyard with them.
>Your brothers are no match for your strength, prowess and height advantage.
>They have to dart back and forth retrieving the little toy cars you just threw across the grass.
>The evil smirk on your face tells them that they're far from ready to defeat this behemoth destroying their racetrack.
>Makes you feel as powerful as you did when playing your video game during what feels like ages ago.
>Eras long past have resurfaced into this confrontation with your twin rivals.
>They've gotten you into trouble so many times in the past as well, notably telling on you and such despite you doing the same with them.
>You have a feeling that Babysitter Cadance will be watching from the living room window until it's too dark to see everything that's going on.
>Then you'll probably toss the little toy cars over the fence lining the backyard to where your brothers can't just go get them.
>The sky starts to darken more and more as your brothers continually ask for you to be meaner to them without realizing it.
>As the sky and surrounding scenery gets too dark for you or your brothers to be able to see much, you begin to feel more powerful by the minute.
>Like you can run faster and jump higher under the guise of darkness.
>You forgot whether it was Wood or Forest who has them, but you can see the blinking lights of those light-up sneakers giving away someone's position on the grass.


>Like a beast in the shadows, you lurk around some nearby shrubbery with your hands positioned like cringe little claws.
>In a weird way, your brother are both your best and worst friends at the same time.
>You're stuck with them, but also undeniably close to them, more-so than anyone you know from school due to the difference in amounts of history shared.
>You all understand eachother better than your parents understand you.
>It's getting to the point in your life where you're firmly by the mantra that your parents don't want to understand, they just want to control.
>Because they think they know what's best for you, which they'd be right about if you turning into a younger version of them instead of growing into your own unique person counts as "best for you".
>But right now, you know what's best for your brothers-
>"Oooooookay! Everyone get back inside for now! It's getting too dark for me to see you out there!" Babysitter Cadance's voice calls out after the sliding glass door can be heard opening.
>The door won't shut until all three of you are inside with the babysitter for her to watch over you.
---


>You were the last one inside, intentionally so, to prove that you're the biggest problem in the house.
>Menacing background music starts playing in your head while you slowly sit back down into the chair at the kitchen table with your brothers on either side of you.
>Both of them are looking pretty annoyed and deflated too.
>Really just kinda hoping for something interesting to do before they have to go to bed soon.
>Your lack of fun has gotten you angry enough to annoy your babysitter anyway, or at least agree to do so after your brothers start throwing a stray tennis ball across the living room and ricocheting it off the far away wall next to the entrance to the kitchen where Babysitter Cadance is standing.
>This method really got a rise out of previous babysitters after enough throws, and there had been some pretty entertaining reactions that substituted for the lack of cartoons to watch and video games to play.
>Those memories you made with your brothers resurface after you start to feel like this babysitter wanted to turn you against your brothers by being nice to you, probably KNOWING the basement room would be empty and acing like it was her fault.
>You're not sure why this suspicion suddenly popped into your head just now, but you've seen enough mind-testing episodes in your shows and levels in your video games that made you wonder if something like that was going on here.
>Maybe she did that to make you go easy on her when you inevitably wouldn't get what you wanted.
>And help her take care of your even louder and more obnoxious younger twin brothers.
>Wood and Forest peer over at Babysitter Cadance, waiting for her brow to furrow in an expression of anger and annoyance.
>She's surprisingly unbothered, and your brothers instantly turn their attention towards you in anticipation of you returning that devious expression promising to punish this babysitter for being the owner of your night instead of fun cartoons you're used to.
>This is the main thing that pushes the suspicion into your head.
>If your video games aren't here this time, why on earth would they be here when it's ONLY you here with no brothers to tell on you?
>Your parents already know how much of a dangerous legend you are, but Babysitter Cadance doesn't know a thing about you.
>Why would she trust you out of nowhere?
>All of these little details might as well be made of helium because they're lifting the corners of your mouth up into that devious grin your brothers were waiting for to be returned.
>Just like that, you're back in the saddle, too smart to be fooled by some girl at the local high school where the big kids go to learn how to be lame like grown-ups.



>Something is ready to explode in your mind, the fuse it lit.
>You're back.
>Menacingly walking towards your brother like the army of elite heavily trained warriors approaching the less powerful militia, you are the cavalry arriving.
>Feeling so elegant.
>Feeling so all over the place in the power and control you would gain over every past babysitter.
>Heart thumping in your chest to the rhythm of electronic dance music you're not allowed to buy off the Wal-Mart shelves yet until you've done enough loyal little chores for a cause you care nothing of.
>You stand before your brothers like a villain atop a black horse.
>Nice time is over, fun time has begun.
>You're a much better thrower than your brothers Wood and Forest, and with the tennis ball clutched in your evil little claw-like hand, entering unknown territory is less scary to you.
>You will NOT let this babysitter's prettiness catch you off guard like a villain waiting to job to the plot where the hero wins.
>That must be her special power.
>You've spread your evil dragon wings just like any other time, despite this new babysitter's attempts to win you over into helping her stop your brothers.
>...But you have no idea how much this theme song of yours was actually hers all along.
>Not caring about that yet, you bounce the tennis ball off of the dark counter top then the kitchen table in a practiced move your younger twin brothers are always amazed by.
>The last babysitter was worried you were going to knock something off of the table with that little stunt, having lectured and scolded you for 45 minutes about you'll be sorry about when your parents found out.
>But that was a long time ago.
>You don't remember a single word of that talk, and Babysitter Cadance doesn't seem to care for more than 45 nanoseconds.
>Maybe she'll care about a minute after you retrieve the tennis ball, ready to be as much of a nuisance of a prankster on that website YouTube just under a decade into the future from now.
>The tennis ball ricochets off of the wall more loudly this time, begging your babysitter to start feeling the stress just as her successors had.
>Not begging, but demanding.
>There's no reaction yet, but you're hoping for one.
>Pass the ball to one brother off of the off-white paint like it's a speed boost in a racing game or something along that vibe.
>Giggling like an evil little idiot, wishing you could sound more threatening in the way your voice sounds.
>Babysitter Cadance only leans against the kitchen counter reading a magazine with a sphere of bubblegum growing from her lips.
>Probably used to nails of a chalkboard or loud dental drills with how long this goes on without her caring at all.
>You and your brothers look on in utter confusion.
>Starting to feel like your time allotted for breaking the babysitter's patience is running out as you run out of possible options in your head.
>What are you going to do if she keeps refusing to care?
>Refuse to go bed?
>Refuse to go bed.


>Banging on the furniture couldn’t have possibly been loud enough.
>You feel like you’re up against the evil spirits of mom-and-dadness trying to stop you from having fun.
>By simply stopping you from ruining the babysitter’s peace.
>It’s so apparent and you can feel it, and that absolutely means you’re going to do something about it.
>You will not be stopped.
>You will not be deterred.
>You will not be controlled.
>Remembering how condescending some of those cartoons were about parents being in charge, you override your “small boy metabolism” as one of them called it.
>They’re gonna regret prompting you to bite back much harder than you should have needed to.
>Babysitter Cadance just sits down at a spot at the kitchen table and continues her magazine while the three boys she’s babysitting still have no TV or video games.
>But your siege will not cease.
>You join forces and make the loudest noises you possibly can.
>Something you can’t quite put your finger on is energizing you once more.
>Something about this babysitter’s presence to you is like a full moon to a werewolf.
>You can almost feel the look in your eyes promising a horrible stressful night that no babysitter has survived.
>Like you yourself were drawn by only the most deranged cartoonists that intended for you to be an unhinged problem that babysitter Cadance could never force to go to bed even as the night went on and on.
>Wood would have a turn jumping on the couch hollering at the top of his lungs before leaping down to make room for Forest to have a turn doing the same.
>These two little brats would be such a pain in the neck for you had you not joined forces like three elven kingdoms standing together against the army of the underworld.
>That’s what this is starting to feel like the longer it goes on.
>This happens every time; you and your two younger brothers forget your Wild Wild West rivalries and shift gears to mystical fantasy elf kings with your usual pointy ears and totally not girly looking faces despite being boys who are tough and brave and super powerful.
>Except the vibe that swirls around you three like the fallen spirits of the elders is one of victory and not this current one of befuddlement.
>The daylight fades from your stone cold faces as you ride away from the sunset, feeling as opposite from epic as that sunset being a reversed explosion.
>The confidence you had at the start of this starts to do the polar opposite of what you thought it would do and implode on you.


>Your kingdoms feel claustrophobic as available options for defeating the underworld unwillingly break as fast as their promises do.
>As reluctantly as the acceptance of the lack of success that rises up the horizon to replace the full moon you thought would be there.
>Because Babysitter Cadance doesn’t need ear plugs to shut out your insufferable nonsense.
>She almost looks as though she’s holding back laughter as the three of you amuse her with annoyance tactics that usually had babysitters pulling their hair out by now.
>What’s her secret?
>The next phase is to chase your brothers around the house to initiate what you'd like to call "stampede mode".
>The name for it popped up in your head just now on the fly.
>But the creakiness in the floorboards has been here for years as the sound repeat themselves every time the soles of your shoes press down onto the carpet and/or tile below.
>Babysitter Cadance isn't about to make an effort to chase after the three of you in this house.
>But you're about to make an effort to show your brothers how much faster of a runner you are than they are.
>Catching up to them is the easy part, and taunting them is the easier part.
>However, getting Babysitter Cadance's attention beyond just a few amused glances and giggles still proves to be the impossible part.
>Your two little twin brothers scream and shout just like the little kids they are, while you menacingly follow them to make their voices louder in order to substitute for the energy that'd have gone into yours to make the wallpaper reverberate from your immaturity.
>Stamina can only last for so long.
>And all of your hopes are once again starting to fade away as fast as you were hoping your babysitter's patience would.
>She must be really used to loud noises.
>You've found yourself getting so worked up by how smooth her arms look for some reason, and it energized you to bully your brothers extra hard just in case they thought about double-rebelling and becoming the leaders of this rebellion instead.
>But their exhaustion coupled with the fact that they're about to go to bed really soon as they usually do each night, it becomes easier and easier to catch up with your brothers and mess with them like ruffling their hair or something to anger them.
>Their breathing has become heavier and footsteps across the floor more sluggish compared to before.
>The two little racecars just ran out of most of their fuel, and now run on fumes as the sky outside the window gets dark enough to turn the glass into a mirror as your babysitter turns the lights on.


>As far as you're concerned, your brothers may be out of the fight tonight, but you're still truckin' on like thy never have.
>Or more specifically, peddling on.
>You watch your babysitter sit there at the table flipping through page after page of her magazine.
>Barely paying any mind to you sauntering towards the garage.
>Barely paying any mind to you opening the door, disappearing into the darkness in seconds.
>Barely paying any mind to to ruckus coming from inside the echo-y room.
>But then looks up to find you rolling your bike across the living room carpet moments after reappearing.
>"Whatcha doing with that there?" Babysitter Cadance asks in a quaint tone, lowering the magazine while your gazes meet.
>You spent the whole moment in the garage thinking of something clever to say, having even whispered it to yourself to make sure you don't stutter and ruin your evil little moment.
"Oh, not much. Downhill derby practice." You keep the giggling underneath your voice the best you can.
>Like that'd be a bad thing if she could sense your giggling trying to bubble up anyway.
>It just shows her that you don't give a f-
>"You gonna do that outside? It's a little late for that." Babysitter Cadance continues.
"Not too late for inside." You make the sharp turn towards the front room with the rubber tires squeaking across the hardwood floors almost loudly enough to interrupt you.
>You have your head turned, but you can almost FEEL how worried Babysitter Cadance's face must look right now.
>She's probably about to stand up and try to stop you, showing that she's finally affected by your dumb little antics that have got to be stopped.
>You fully expect he scene to start up while you're on your way up the stairs, with enough noise to let your brothers know that you have finally won he battle for them.
>Toppled this babysitter's patience on their behalf.
>You're barely strong enough to get your rather small bike halfway up the carpeted flight of stairs with your skinny little noodle arms before Babysitter Cadance finally appears right behind you.
"Heh, problem, officer?" You joke, trying to look as smug as you can to imitate another cartoon character who would have gotten away with robbing a bank by now.
>Do your best to not pay much mind to how she looks, as that's for some reason making you feel weak in the knees out of nowhere.
>Are all the other high school girls who are just a few years older than you this pretty?
>You always thought they'd be unappealing to you, but something weird is happeni-
>Don't focus on that...


>What is she even gonna do to stop you?
>March up these stairs and wrestle your entire BIKE away from you?
>That'd be funny... having that thing loudly crash down the stairs as a result.
>That'd be hilarious.
>So hilarious when she still tries to haul you up to your room to throw you into there and punish you.
>Probably picking you up and holding you up against herself...
>With certain... things... happening a little bit.
>Wow, wouldn't that be so hilarious?
>Your excitement supercharges your strength into getting your bike to the top of the stairs in a new record that'd leave your brothers awestruck for days on end.
"Don't worry, miss. I'm a professional." You try to bellow as loudly as possible by the time you've rolled the back tire over the top step.
>"Ooh, you're gonna do something to impress me?" Babysitter Cadance crosses her arms.
>Two things happened.
>She showed that she's not against you riding your bike down the stairs... and she crossed her arms.
>Something happened during this moment in both of these things that threw you off guard and jumbled your inner narrative, derailed your train of thought and eroded the smug grin off of your face with a wave of confusion...
>You didn't expect babysitter Cadance to be okay with this.
>...And you really like what happens when she crosses her arms... for some reason...
>"Come on down! Come on! Come!" Babysitter Cadance waves you down the flight of stairs as you turn your little vehicle around to lean the front tire on the edge of the top step.
"I uh, only if you say please!" You desperately think of a way to try to regain the upper hand in this exchange.
>Babysitter Cadance walks over to a small decorative chair and gently drags it to the side. "I'll move this out of the way for you. Can't avoid getting caught if you break something, eh?"
>The owl outside from before hoots even more dow that nightfall has arrived.
>You'd have expected the kind of girls you see in those toy commercials playing with dolls and little plastic ovens.
>You'd have expected her to react all angrily at you for being rowdy and disturbing her peace babysitting you.
>But she's... encouraging you?
>You get caught up in the moment, really wanting to make a spectacle out of the character you're putting up.
>With a battle cry of pre-emptive victory, you position yourself on the bike and careen down the uneven stairs much faster than you're used to doing it.
>Feeling the consequences of your mistake already, your expression turns frightened before you're even halfway down the stairs.


>A mindless feeling overtakes you as you lose balance and feel like you're floating.
>As if you're going "heh yup, i'm about to get hurt really better, buckle up, me" for the split second between your ass leaving the bicycle seat and your ego leaving the clouds.
>A loud crash makes your brothers raise their eyebrows and rush over, the pitter patter of their tennis shoes feeling ever-so-light compared to how it felt slamming your body against the floor like a WWE wrestler.
>Now, the bodyslam itself wasn't so bad due to your foot landing first and taking most of the blow your bodyweight delivered a tiny fraction of a second afterward.
>You just KNOW something horrible happened to your ankle.
>But there's enough time between it happening and your brain processing the searing agony for you to steel yourself into pretending it didn't hurt that much.
>...The act lasted however many seconds it took for your bloodcurdling scream to drown it out.
>Gee, how could this happen?
>Should you have a reason later tonight to run... you will not be able to.


>---
>You just feel absolutely humbled now.
>No way to ride your bike, play video games, or even really stand up to do a whole lot at all.
>It's unbelievably frustrating resting here on the living room couch like someone falling asleep watching a movie.
>Having to cancel in your head the big moment when you show Babysitter Cadance who really is the boss around here...
>Any comfort in these cushions is overshadowed by the fact that your ankle hurts like crazy and has a nasty looking scratch on it.
>Babysitter Cadance herself looks genuinely inconvenienced, rummaging through one of the cabinets in the kitchen, hands weaving through various medical supplies before grabbing a box of bandages.
>Great, now you have to cooperate with her, or else she'll tell your parents what really happened and get you into even more trouble.
>So now you feel down and out like a losing boxer, simply enduring the ordeal of your defeat that drags on and on and on.
>Your boiling rage is contained by the pot of your exhaustion, not voluminous enough to spill over the edge... no runneth-ing over for you tonight, mister.
>"I'm just glad you only got hurt there and not your head." Babysitter Cadance rests herself beside you, soon grabbing your leg suddenly. "I should've made you wear a helmet, at least."
>You flinch reactively to her hand suddenly making contact with your bare skin after she rolls the bottom of your pant leg up.
>Her fingers are cold enough to send a chill up your leg then up your spine, but the chill feels warm in a weird way after it reaches your spine.
>Warm in such a new way you cant quite identify. So almost scary but definitely new.
"H-hey! I said I'm okay!" You finally repeat again after a pause, already forgetting how many times you told this lie.
>"If I don't treat it now, I'll get in even more trouble than you. Now hold still." Babysitter Cadance holds the disinfectant spray in one hand and your ankle in her other hand.
>Wood and Forest stand over at he other side of the living room, giggling at you while this babysitter makes you struggle to retract your leg away from her grasp while demanding that you hold completely still.


>"Oh hush, stop being dramatic..." Babysitter Cadance says to you while aiming the little funnel of disinfectant spray at the large scratch on your leg, making you wince in initial pain before the chill takes over on your skin where it happened.
"I said I was fine though!" You say to her before adding, "Being dramatic is all I do!"
>"I noticed..." Babysitter Cadance gives you a look before starting to wrap the gauze around your ankle.
>She looks over at your two younger twin brothers, who each giggle at your misfortune while not yet old enough to understand how it could be anything but a bad thing.
>Meanwhile, Babysitter Cadance's touch on your leg sends a shiver straight to your core now that she's holding you in place by your leg, making you feel funny in ways you don't understand.
>She almost seems disappointed that she couldn't have you go upstairs and play video games, and instead has to baby you down here as you lie on the couch like a wounded animal in her clutches.
>"You're not allowed to leave this spot for the rest fo the night, mister." She scolds you, making sure her voice is loud enough for your brothers to hear her clearly.
>You're not sure why she's clearly getting them to laugh at you more, not understanding her ulterior motives involving them being satisfied enough not to tell on you as soon as your parents are back home.
>Her scorn towards your "honor" may be staged, but your reaction to it is very much real, all packaged into a sneer of betrayal on your face that makes your brothers begin to cackle like a couple of evil little witches.
>Give your brothers a look that promises they'll be strangled Bart Simpson style by the time you're back on your feet and able to catch them on foot again, but they don't take it seriously.
>"And you two." She adds. "I don't want to be bothered any more tonight."
>You're not sure why there's a part of you that's keeping you from lashing out at this girl... she's straight up siding with the enemy here (despite the fact that you all teamed up against her like an hour or so ago).
>At this point, you don't even know what's going on anymore; all you know is that your have an ankle that's at least sprained, you're stuck doing nothing for the rest of the night until you go to bed.
>And you wish you were more able to get angry at her than whatever trance you're being put under for as long as she's holding your leg still in a way you can't admit to yourself that you kinda like.
>You start to simply immerse yourself into the texture and feel of the couch with nothing else around you to focus on.
>Lack of outlets for you to have fun with has gotten you pretty much totally out of your mind.
>Great, now there's nothing going on, might as well just watch whatever is on the boring channels on TV.
>"Do you want me to play fantasyland with you two?" Candy approaches Wood and Forest, fixing to keep them pacified long enough to outlast whatever energy they have left.
>The two of them look at their nearby basket of action figures and little plastic bin of bionicles that's been placed higher up where they can't reach due to their own respective punishment that's still lighter than yours.
>Their eyes light up when the realize (in their own imaginations at least) that yet another babysitter has surrendered and is willing to play their games with them.
>Candy's approach is entirely platonic here, mainly just aiming to keep these two at bay until they tire out again and make some time and space for her to deal with the one laid up on the couch in the living room.
>"I'll be the knight and you can be the archer!" One of the young boys says to Candy, handing an action figure to her.
>"Why does she get to be the archer? I wanna!" The other twin complains.
>"It's okay, you two, I can be the princess in the castle if you want." Offers Candy with a warm smile. "Do you both want to be archer knights?"
>"Archer knights?" Each of them peer up at Candy quizzically, a little confused. "That's a thing?"
>"You can wear the best armor fantasyland has to offer, and you can fire arrows at the other armies too. While protecting me in the tower"
>"...Can't you protect yourself?"
>"Yeah! You're older than us."
>"My, how thoughtful!" Candy plays along with brightness in her tone. "You're both right. I'm a very powerful princess!"
>"Yeah, and we defeated you!"
>The two young boys erupt into a series of giggles and giddy glances.
>"You both certainly did!" Candy just smiles at them, humoring them. "And now I'm helping you fight the evil army of giants from the mountains!"
>"Yeah! We're joining forces!"
>"Down with the giants!"
>They both triumphantly raise their fists in the air as their babysitter Candy further encourages their childish little antics
>In their minds, Babysitter Cadance is the defeated and redeemed princess in the highest tower enlisted by them to help defeat the incoming hordes of evil giants from the mountains (stairs) they're imagining while readying their imaginary bows and arrows.
>In Candy's mind, she's Venus and these two are her adorable little cupids having as much fun as they can to tire them out quickly and help themselves and eachother go to bed earlier so she can then go to the living room and act upon her true ulterior motives that has nothing to do with them:
>Their older brother moping on the couch, grumbling to himself.
>As she briefly plays along with their silly little game, something becomes apparent.
>Candy can't help but notice that these two seem to be completely identical twins.
>Like, perfectly identical.
>To the point where they might as well be clones.
>Huh, that's odd.
>Oh well...
>Anyway, you're sitting on the couch while all of this is going on, barely paying attention to it.
>Channels 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28 and 29 are all blocked.
>Everything below those were boring stuff you have zero interest in.
>Channels 30-48 are sports or some news channel, or whatever cooking show that was on.
>Channel 49 is static with a blurry image of a well in the woods briefly appearing; you have no idea what that was about.
>At some point, you settle for just leaving the TV on a random channel for background noise while you mope on the couch, wallowing in your dumb little injury like it wasn't your own fault.
>Some channel with soap operas.
>Babysitter Cadance soon hangs out in the kitchen pouring herself a glass of applejuice, listening to electronic music in her headphones while Wood and Forest are still off pretending to be Lord Of The Rings characters together or something without her now, already arguing again over who has the stronger magical attack.
>This distant altercation reminds you of the very thing that led to you resting on this couch to begin with... your argument with your friend about whether wizards can play electric guitars.
>...Like... really?
>That pointless argument?
>Do either of you even still care about what your respective sides of that were?
>You're still grounded either way, which annoys you to no end.
>Feelin' like you gypped yourself.
>Turn your attention away from the TV screen to find the tail end of Babysitter Cadance having just snuck a glance at you from the kitchen over the half wall.
>You know she was just doing so, but there'd be nowhere to go with it if you addressed it now.
>But you could have sworn there was a smile being beamed your way while you weren't paying attention, but in a surprisingly non-mocking way.
>In fact, almost in an impressed and amused kind of way... those two words to describe it don't do a good job at not contradicting one another, but it's what you're sensing.
>From the perspective of now the hallway, Candy has stepped through the doorway to get a better look.
>From the perspective of lounging on the couch minus the cartoons, you notice Babysitter Cadance making no attempt to hide her presence.
>And it kind of strikes you inside in a weird way.
>She smiles, and you hold your own smile back, surprised to feel it trying to happen.
"...Hey?"
>"Hey. You alright? I'm worried about you."
"Yeah..." You feel the evidence of the extinction of the previous anger in your voice. "Thanks though, Cadance."
>"You can call me Candy."
>There's a long pause after she said that.
>Her warm smile makes you feel all tingly inside, just as much as her smooth shoulders do... how is she so able to weaken you so much by just standing there doing nothing?
>"I'm sorry if that was a little, out there..." She finally apologizes, reading the awkwardness on your blushing face.
"It's alright." You surprisingly answer without even thinking about what to say.
>Her gentle stare feels like a calm hand on your shoulder, patting you slightly to reassure you that everything's alright, and that she's only here to be extra friendly to you.
>And that she's not even mad about earlier.
>And that she's really just concerned about you, as she said.
>"Sorry, I probably have homework to do soon." Candy says to you suddenly.
>And then she walks away, leaving you wishing she stood there longer.
>As random as that was, you... didn't hate it as much as you wish you would have.
>Part of you forgot there was a TV screen even in front of you.
>There was another part of you that was angry that you gypped yourself into getting grounded over the dumbest argument with a friend about wizards and guitars.
>And that part of you must have gone fishing.
>You feel really... silly inside.
>Silly and clumsy.
>After a few minutes of Candy's absence, you finally come down from a trance you didn't even know you were under, not sure if you're rising up from it or dropping down from it until you remember which way is up.
>Are you ashamed?
>Why did you suddenly ask yourself that?
>Is it because you weren't in control of...
>Look down in your upward facing palms, feeling like you're holding a dying something in your arms you'll never get back now that you're not a little kid anymore.
>Like the ceiling is opening up to let rain pour all over you to emphasize dramatic effect.
>Soaking you in a feeling you can't just shake off of yourself, making your clothes droopy and heavy, making you too unable to stop yourself from slipping and falling when walking around even if your ankle wasn't sprained.
>It may be late evening, but it feels like it's morning after the ending of a thunderstorm.
>The wet leaves outside look like the leaves from The Wizard Of Oz after everything turned colorful.
>In this nighttime living room, you feel like you're still in grayscale, feeling a pressure to join the world around you to join Candy in the vibe she just tried to start up with you.
>But you're not ready yet, still having a lot to learn before you jump into what you don't realize is beckoning you forth into being a man.
>And now you're sitting here looking at these old people on the screen.
>It's a bunch of old people sitting in a room together, you have no idea who they are.
>You almost imagine that this show is supposed to be a gag where the episode itself is about the target demographic these kinds of shows are usually for.
>Or at least people just a decade younger than where it begins... but it doesn't take you long to begin getting invested in this episode as it continues.
>You're stuck on this couch anyway, might as well.
>In two cushiony chairs are a middle-aged man and a woman, looking around 60 years old.
>They're talking about how they want to make sure they say the right words when their long lost friend enters the den they're lounging in.
>"He's still going to want to... you know... savor a little bit of his pride even now." The man begins to suggest. "Let's not bring up anything that would... you know..."
>"Yeah... it's gonna be quite a moment. Shouldn't bring up anything that'd remind him of... you know who." The woman glances over to the door.
>"Do we just... talk about our past before her?"
>"That'd be hard to do but we'd kind of have to. I don't want him to start thinking something's wrong."
>"I'm sure we got this. We'll be careful."
>It's a really hard conversation they're about to have with someone about to enter the room.
>Soft piano music begins to play as the two let their hands meet on the arms of the chair, giving one another reassuring smiles of comfort and confidence.
>Smiles that can only come from decades and decades of marriage and trust.
>Their whole back and forth just now was mostly them just being nervous in the moment of finally seeing this person again after however long it's been.
>You raise an eyebrow at the screen.
>The cheesy soap opera continues.
>The two of them sit in their chairs for a little longer before a door opens, punctuated by dramatic music as they turn their heads.
>In walks another middle aged man, lanky and nearly decrepit looking with droopy bags under his eyes, looking like he's been homeless for years.
>Camera shots between the two parties here alternate between the lanky man's concerning posture and the couple's concerned glances they share.
>Music plays as the lanky man finally sits down after looking like he's wondering where he is for a couple of seconds.
>It's clear that he's not all the way there, but everyone's gonna try their best.
>He stares at the other two older people for some time before one of them finally speaks first before he does.
>"Hey..." The woman gives him a sad little smile. "Long time no see..."
>There's vibe in the air that had this conversation happened earlier, there'd have been more crying, but now everyone's just so done and accepting of it all, ready to just at least end things at a foot less bad than it could've stayed had they not met in person again while still alive.
>The lanky man has already done all of his crying before, now just an emotionless husk who's too done to even be angry anymore.
>"I guess I..." The lanky man suddenly speaks, his voice deflated and exhausted sounding. "...have a lot of explaining to do."
>"Well..." The other man starts.
>The elephant in the room is the fact that these three have never all been in the same place in person for so long.
>"I... want to start off by saying that you were right. I was wrong." The lanky man looks down at the floor as the words finally stumble out of him decades late.
>The other two immediately catch that there's no avoiding the topic now, so they might as well just go with it since he initiated.
>But they let him continue on his own merit for the time being.
>"I wish I could have stepped up sooner and saw how serious my mistakes were." The lanky man says to his former friend. "I should have known better. I did it to myself."
>There's a lot more being said between their brief little statements, powered by memories of missteps and undertones that came from locking horns over a horrible dispute decades ago.
>In between this conversation is another silent conversation being held by their eyes and body language alone.
>Everyone in the room knows what it means, and this had been a long time coming with obstacles of stubbornness delaying it.
>It's been so long before they were willing to let a mediator convince them to meet in person somewhere and put to rest what's been keeping them up some nights.
>"My behavior was inexcusable. I was so awful to you two, you didn't deserve any of that." The lanky man makes a face and sucks his lips in. "I didn't want to admit it at the time. I had too much pride, I thought that... she was all I was ever going to have who mattered..."
>"Look, you don't need to be so hard on yourself about it anymore." The other man says to him. "I just want closure at least."
>He pauses before continuing.
>"If there's anything I should admit, I now know how sensitive you had become back then. You always had your defenses up over her."
>"They had no reason to be up like that. It's my fault for not seeing the warning signs. Sam had a point, that woman was nothing but trouble for me... I should have known better."
>"That doesn't change the fact you had the courage to try to divorce her first." The woman joins in, careful not to say the ex-wife's name. "She manipulated you into being under her total control, it's not like I can't see how hard that must have been to cut ties with her. That counts for something at least."
>"We both understand." The other man agrees. "It didn't help that we kept hurting your pride about it. None of us were communicating in the best way we could have."
>The lanky man sniffles with a gaze out the window, thinking about the next alimony payment he's going to have to make. "Well, I was certainly the worst out of all of us."
>"That... may be. But we could have seen that she'd have made you take it way too far, because she had already been manipulating you for a while beforehand."
>"You don't have to apologize for that... it's my fault I let it get that bad in the first place." Insists the lanky man.
>"Well... look, she was your first." The other man brings up. "And that means she meant something special to you. It may be too late to go back now, but... I'm glad you mustered the strength to admit all this."
>"Also, you still have time to find someone." The lady reassures the lanky man. "It's never too late to settle down with a new partner out there."
>"What happened to you doesn't make you less of a man as long as you acknowledge that it was your fault. And you have. That's always a great first step."
>"I should have talked to you two about it so many years ago. I always wanted to blame her, but... I still loved her so much even after she walked away. I don't know why I let myself wait this long to apologize."
>"We're not mad at you anymore, Ian. We just want to make sure you're okay now."
>There's a long pause before the lanky man's face starts to contort and his broken voice begins to break even more. "I can't believe I let her ruin my whole life..."
>"Listen, man. This doesn't have to be the end. Like Hila just said, you can still find someone. It's not too late to turn the rest of your life around." The man pats his former friend on the back between the dejected sobs. "It's okay, we're barely active on like either anyway."
>"Is it true... that I was a lot better as a virgin?" Croaks the lanky man with tears welling up in his eyes.
>"Come on, that has nothing to do with this. I mean, look at us." The other man refers to himself and his wife both trying to console the lanky man. "We turned out great, and so did Max, remember? You just ended up getting caught up in a bad relationship. It can happen to the best of us."
>"Yeah, Ethan's right. What happened was you had a bad romance, that's all. It could happen to the best of us. She was a manipulator, and in all the worst ways, but there's plenty more women who aren't like that at all."
>"Yeah, like that Lady Gaga song 40 years ago, it was a bad romance. She manipulated you and you lost control.
>"I should've knows she was like that."
>"It's too late to go back now, the best thing you can do for yourself is try to get things settled out with the courts. We'll be available if you need help, if that means anything."
"...What the fuck am I watching?"
>You sit on the couch with your eyes glued towards the screen, finding this to be a particularly deep show for the current year of 2008, as though it's predicting something.
>Absent-mindedly stare at the screen without even noticing the obnoxious disruptions from your younger twin brothers.
>Meanwhile, these two little scamps occasionally passing by the TV screen have no regard for any of that soap opera drama on the TV screen.
>As far as they're concerned, they're racing one another along a winding racetrack.
>Using their renewed burst of late night energy to their best advantage.
>Ready to settle it once and for all who owns this city of race cars.
>Their minds have all of the little designs and abilities of their respective sports cars laid out in their imaginations.
>Painting the insides of their skulls like Neanderthals in caves with daydreams of being night racers, in cars painted all sort of cool colors on the outside.
>Forest and Wood scream and holler as they travel from room to room to room, imitating gears shifting in a manner what they imaginatively call "going vroom to vroom to vroom".
>The poor city streets weren't ready to host such an intense rivalry between two nighttime racers that paint dark skid marks onto the asphalt over and over again with each lap, knocking trees over, crashing through bus stops and phone booths, etc.
>The arenas they duel in are complicated areas of weaving streets lined with rows of buildings and short walls and trees, limiting how wide each of their drifting turns can be.
>They've already forgotten that they're being babysat at all.
>Reverted back to just having fun.
>These twin brothers have been rivals their entire lives, competing to finally see which one was the cooler one, which one was the faster runner, which one was the smarter one... it never stops.
>Year after year.
>It simply does not stop.
>Just like the never ending race they're both engaged in against one another.
>Careening through sharp turns and crashing into walls.
>Making a bridge hum from the rugged growls of their fast cars.
>Zooming through tunnels that go deep underground at a neat slope and watching the line of overhead lights rush over their heads through the sunroofs.
>Listening to the screeching tires echo through those same cavernous tunnels off of the white brick painted green by that same row of overhead lights running right down the middle of the cobblestone path they're bumping into one another across before firing back into the night like a shotgun firing both rounds at the same time beforelandingontheroadan...
>Both young boys have their imaginations running extremely wild faster than they can process it all.
>The real thing riding shotgun is their awareness of their actual surroundings, leaving them in control as they emerge out of the tunnel in the side of a mountain side-by-side.
>The roars of each engine escape their lungs as they imagine what an adult could only describe as high-speed bumper cars on crack.
>Both ambitious twins understand that each of their respective racing crews' reputations are on the line here as they settle the score to see who is the better driver.
>Highway dividers separate their bumper cars match and and turn it back into a race where each only tries to get ahead without hitting the other driver.
>It simply does not stop.
>It's not long before their street race is interrupted by the cops.
>Flashing red and blue lights illuminate the street behind them as the divider between them is finally passed and they can crash into one another to ensure 1st place again.
>Except no one even decided where or what the finish line is; looks like the real winner of this is going to end up who had the most fun.
>So now each of the twin drivers are trying to throw the other off balance from the street to make them get caught by the advancing cops who are trying to ruin the fun and throw the perps in jail.
>A large pile of moneybags and diamonds are miraculously imagined into the back seats of each car, now completing the task of having each interior seat accounted for regarding who or what is in it.
>Both fast cars swerve across a parking lot with burnt rubber kicking up smoke to use as a cover from the cops seeing them.
>Both racers take the secret back path out of the parking lot before the multiplying cop cars can notice.
>The dirt path leading out of the abandoned parking lot makes the ride bumpy enough to nearly catapult each driver out of their seats, but the smoother city streets soon save the day and provide a new escape route to drive off with the stolen money and diamonds from the bank.
>"You got left behind!" One driver swears.
>"Nuh uh, that was you! You got caught!" The other responds.
>They both crash into one another as they enter one of the on-ramps to the highway, giving eachother mean faces while pedestrian cars try to zip out of the way before being dragged into this mess.
>Even through their rivalry, they're just having too much fun to hate eachother for more than a few minutes at a time before working together to escape the advancing flashing red and blue lights of the cops.
>They have to think fast and be quick on their feet pressing against the gas pedals and brakes.
>Enemies having to work together; sibling rivalry.
>After rounding another winding curve in the highway's extent, the two drivers are face to face with a police roadblock they both agreed is right there in front of them with spike strips and all just waiting to deflate their tires and end the race.
>One driver decides to try and ram through the roadblock while the other decides to spin around and see if he can maneuver his way around the several police cars chasing him and escape into the other direction down the highway.
>Both of these differing attempts prove to be successful due to their perpetrator stating so after the fact.
>"My way worked better!"
>"No mine worked better!"
>"The cops totally got you and you got taken to jail!"
>"No I got away and you got caught and taken to jail!"
>The two hyper-imaginative twins resume taunting and making mean faces at one another before the cops return to being on their tail, forcing them to have to drive together down the beach area of the city.
>Swerving off the road and hitting palm trees then swerving back on only to knock over rows of parking meters on the sidewalk.
>In a galaxy far far away from the hyperactive imaginations of Wood and Forest, a vase embarks on a free fall off the rounded wooden edge of a nearby table.
>This vase is very very breakable, and the floor that's quite a ways below is solid tile.
>A hand catches the vase just in time before disaster strikes.
>Candy glares on at the two boys still running around playing cops and robbers, wondering where the hell this extra burst of energy came from after they spent so much time playing cowboys and indians in the backyard.
>Boy is she glad she's only going to have to watch over these two of this one night, and then the next babysitting session is reserves for only her and their one older brother.
>But this nearly disastrous occurrence will not go unpunished; too inconvenient for Candy to deal with, and she steps forward towards that shelf from before.
>She knows all too well that these boys are far too young for her to deal with in a way she recently discovered.
>They still have several years before that could ever become a possibility; there's nothing like that even going on in their heads yet.
>And with that, Candy pulls out the small plastic bin of legos and bionicles.
>Meanwhile...
>"No, I won!"
>"No you didn't, I won!"
>The two twin brothers shove one another back and forth, endangering that previous abnormally high rage to come out again before the potential rematch is cancelled by Babysitter Cadance's voice.
>"Yoohoo!" She sets the bin down onto the floor. "Time to stop playing cops and robbers, you could break something."
>Both of the young boys look on in glee, then at eachother in glee before scrambling to the bin to be the first to get their grubby little hands on the figurines they like the most.
>This is embarrassing, you were supposed to be the unstoppable villain of the night terrorizing the babysitter, not some lump of helplessness on the couch who can't even ride his freaking bike down the stairs...
>The playing in the other room starts off quiet at first.
>You're able to ignore it almost as much as you're unable to keep paying attention to the redundant soap opera on the TV screen you're still pretending to watch.
>It almost feels like pretending to pay attention in class.
>Except both the class and the chalkboard are annoying to you in this case, so to speak.
>Candy seems to be having fun with tiring your two brothers out... fine, as long as you don't have to do anything this time.
>Shouldn't they be going to bed soon anyway?
>You're too exhausted to even look at the clock, which speaks volumes about how much worse than school this somehow became.
>Decide to change the channel to something louder after your two younger brothers start to get more rowdy in the other room.
>But at this point, you might as well try to find something deeper than their imaginations to drown them out.
>You can hear them shouting in the best gruff voices they can, somehow worse at acting than the robots they sometimes imagine themselves as.
>Doesn't stop them from working together with the decibels of their voices outshining the TV screen's sports channel it's currently displaying.
>Only upside is that you can grunt in exasperation as loudly as you can without them hearing.
>Laughter won't join their yelling if they can't hear how much they're annoying you.
>Sink into the cushions like the couch potato you are while two small fries are off having fun.
>You pray they don't approach you at any point, looking to have salt added from you.
>Candy's sweet voice joins in with their playing, but you haven't realized yet that she's even more unhealthy for you than your annoying younger twin brothers are.
>The remote in your hand is your lifeline, the volume button reeling you away from the depths of the yelling drowning out your own thoughts at this point.
>Roll your eyes towards the dimly lit ceiling.
>Your ankle feels like it's been put through a meat grinder.
>Even when it is numb.
>It might as well not even be there, but the ache is the shackle keeping you on the couch.
>Like you'd have been able to run away without one of your feet... right...
>The running-back on the screen does this job for you, and makes the crowd cheer loudly enough to finally overpower the sounds of your brothers in the other room.
>He almost made it to the end zone, barely missing a touchdown before getting tackled to the ground.
>You're now rooting for him more than all of his team's fans are.
>Rooting harder than the fake grass on that field pretends to as it stays green all year.
>Another play starts, and you hear your brothers start yelling something about a tower, you're not sure what it means.
>Maybe it's a Lord Of The Rings reference, in which case, you'll need a longer set of games like the olympics to last the duration of their imitation of a long series.
>You just want to marry this TV screen right now and blast it at full volume until nothing but static and cursed video tapes are left to watch.
>Who wouldn't risk their life to throw these two little brats down a well and forget about them?
>The closest you have to that is a bathtub, which'll come in handy if push comes to shove and you'll have to drown them there instead of drowning out their voices.
>They'd probably fight back against that like two cats collectively amounting to 18 lives, it'll never work.
>A drone asserts itself into your ears from the ruckus, screaming into your soul that this grudge is going to last forever.
>You are DESPERATE to go ancient Rome on your brothers, clutching the remote like a club harder than the quarterback clutches the football before throwing it.
>The urge to adopt that rage from before boils within you as the water now gets deeper as two shit-eating grins face you from the doorway.
>That drone in your ears shrieking louder than a tea kettle.
>Yet your brothers can only see how much you're shaking your hand, with the remote begging your grip not to crush the plastic until the batteries pop out from the beating the plastic is taking.
>"Watcha doin?" One of those little gremlins dares to speak to you while you're this charged up.
"Not beating you up right now." You grit your teeth at him. "Don't change that."
>"LASER CANNON!" The other little gremlin points a nerf gun at you.
>The little foam bullet hits you square between the eyebrows with more accuracy than the pro quarterback's throw to his teammate.
>The crowd's cheering doesn't mean a damn thing this time; the object is no longer to drown your brothers out with noise... you wish you could do it with water now.
>Face as red as a beet straight out of the steaming pot, you fumble off the couch faster than the man on the screen falls to the ground from his attempt to run after getting pushed to the fake grass below by three opponent teammates.
>You can still hear your brothers' giggling and chiming their taunts at you over the deafening cheering of the crowd that erupts after the takedown on the screen was confirmed to be in the end zone, as if they each performed mitosis and formed a barbershop quartet.
>Pop music from like four years ago plays on the TV, failing to distract you from the fact that it's *ON* now.
>If anything, it's just fight music to you.
>You're not just going to holla back at these brats, you're gonna do something about it.
>Fired up far beyond reason, ferociously growl louder than their pretend car engine noises ever were, but they're not playing that game anymore.
>This shit isn't just bananas.
>It's B-A-N-A-N-A-N-A-N-A-N-A-S.
>"WE DID IT! WE FINALLY DEFEATED THE CHOPPER!" One twin announces, dodging the remote that releases its batteries against the wall.
>"He's not a chopper, he's a jet, stupid!" The other corrects him, turning his head to then stick his tongue out at you.
>Candy watches you angrily hobble after your two greatest nuisances on earth, trying to calm you down and direct you back to the couch.
>Looking observably worried at first, but then listening to Hollaback Girl playing on the TV and replacing her concern with confidence that she will prevail.
>But the thing that really gets her hopes up is the sound of the bird clock finally making a sound at the top of the hour.
>She looks at what time it is and sighs in relief.
>The two younger brothers exchange disgruntled glances as they both already know exactly what this means: bedtime.
>"Awwwwwww!" They both groan at the exact same time, endangering one another to jinx the other before having to put all the toys back into the bin they weren't supposed to be taking things from in the first place.
>They still thank Candy for letting them play with their bionicles and stuff, and letting their imaginations run wild despite being grounded.
>Everything, including the truth behind your sprained ankle, is agreed upon to remain a secret.
>Even as everything finally winds down and the two youngest boys head up the stairs, Candy can't help but continue to ponder how... strange they are.
>They've been so caught up in their own hyperactive imaginations that they probably won't even remember Candy after tonight.
>---
>There’s just something about Candy that excites you, and you can’t put your finger on it.
>It’s not even like one of those lame moments at school when one of the boys had a crush on one of the girls like in the cartoons and got clowned on for it.
>You’re alone this time albeit the company of your younger brothers who have already gone to bed just now anyway.
>Due to being older, you’re allowed to stay up until 10, an hour later than their 9pm bedtime.
>This is one of the reasons why they’ve gotten so spiteful towards you like annoying little villains seeking revenge.
>And you better believe they’d tell on you if they hear you go up to your room for bed even a single minute too far after 10.
>But that usual time constraint isn’t even the main thing that’s on your mind this time, which is a first.
>Your brain surprisingly goes back to the way Candy’s smooth shoulders look in the glow from the TV screen.
>You want to just run your hand across that smooth perfect skin for some reason.
>Candy’s bra strap humbly peeks out from the fabric of her sleeveless shirt clinging to her shoulder.
>You’re not sure what to make of this, but you can *sense* her chest stuffing her black tank top.
>You can *sense* how much her bra cups must be cradling her boobs right now and how it very slightly strains those bra straps tightly slung over Candy’s smooth shoulders.
>You remember beginning to notice girls at school start to get their boobs, and there was a surprisingly low amount of teasing about it, especially low from the guys.
>You didn’t really care about it, but found it weird how your friends started being either super nice to the girls getting their boobs or super mean to them, each occurrence starting up out of nowhere.
>It was confusing to try to understand, why more and more of your friends started acting weird around girls.
>But now, there’s just something about Candy.
>And that same something is clashing with all of the other feelings you're getting into right now, regarding your crummy situation.
>You can't play video games, you can't walk around, your brothers just had a bunch of fun spitefully annoying you, your ankle hurts, you're still grounded, you're stuck on this couch once again with maximum upset-ness eating away at you on the inside like nothing else, and so on and so forth...
>All of this is just leaving you feeling horrible and actually kind of broken.
>Weak and powerless on the couch you lie, feeling so defeated and denied anything outside of misfortune.
>Really just extremely sour and bitter, not sure which of these layered flavors you can taste the strongest as you hear your brothers have fun jumping on their beds in their rooms before going to sleep.
You even thought you were going to get your video games back... until you didn't.
>What a tease, what a rollercoaster of emotions.
>You mope and cross your arms while wishing your ankle would heal at any pace you could imagine it healing, wishing you could at least feel some sort of control over your situation.
>Fittingly, the progressively more noticeable sound of raindrops hitting the roof and ground outside makes its way to your ears.
>Followed by a low and subtle roll of thunder that must have come after lightning you didn't see.
>You're having a dark and stormy night of weakness.
>The living room surrounding you looks just as dull as it feels.
>Just like how you look just as miserable as you feel as Candy comes back in.
>"Well that sure was fun." She breathes her own sigh of relief this time, as the volume on the TV has been turned way down to as barely audible as your will to live. "Everything alright?"
>You put on the angriest face you possibly can, half hoping to scare her away and half crying for help.
>There's no way to easily put your finger on it, but something makes you feel like you REALLY need Candy's help with something right now in your moment of misery.
>"Hey..." Candy sits next to you, her voice growing softer. "You okay?'
"No..." Your voice tries not to shake as your face tries not to contort.
>Feeling like you've lost everything tonight, a lump forms in your throat.
>Candy being right next to you makes the lump in your throat stronger; something about her heightens any emotion you're feeling right now and you don't understand why.
>You're getting a pressing urge to express yourself around her, almost like you want to impress her.
>Except that's overshadowed by how much you feel like you're suffering right now, on the verge of tears as you're too afraid to say anything else lest your breaking voice gives away the weakness you half don't want Candy to know about.
>The other half is glad that she can already tell.
>And you do not understand why.
>You feel as though you've finally been cast outside of the plot of the TV show of your life, banished, exiled...
>And now you're sitting in the in-between realm where you aren't supposed to be, stuck here.
>Forced to really self-reflect in the midst of all your misery.
>But Candy being in here with you gives it a hint of excitement you're not sure if you want to welcome or reject.
>And you're stuck here for a whole 'nother hour.
>Another louder roll of thunder sounds outside as the rain hitting the roof gets more intense.
>"You wanna chill for a bit with me? Maybe watch TV?" Candy offers.
"N-no..."
>The breaking of your voice cannot be ignored now.
>So much pressure from so many different directions forcing you to not mean it when you say no.
>"It's okay." She places a hand on your shoulder.
>There goes that feeling again, there's really no way you can think to describe it at this point.
>Other than... good in the weirdest way.
>The sniffle you give her makes her scooch closer to you, almost bumping her hip into you as she begins to surf through the channels using the remote she had to pick up and put back together lest she get into trouble with you.
>A suddenly loud boom of thunder makes you want to give Candy a hug.
>Like, really badly.
>"I don't really wanna do my homework tonight anyway." Candy says to you. "You can relate, right?"
>Everything she says makes you feel closer to her.
>Everything she does has the same affect.
>What's happening to you?
"Yeah, I can relate." You reply to what she said.
>The longer Candy sits next to you, the less bad you begin to feel.
>You stare at her smooth shoulders in the radiant glow of the TV, now taking more notice of the soft swell of Candy's chest...
>They're a little... bigger than what the girls at your school have.
>A little closer to the direction of the boobs on fully grown women, and you're starting to feel funny about this in particular.
>More and more awkward minutes of silence go on, with you feeling your sprouting curiosity growing more and more impatient as you begin to glance over at Candy's soft boobies barely stuffing her black tank top more frequently.
>In this moment of pure loss to your unfortunate situation, you've been exposed to something entirely new and unfiltered by your usual worries.
>And it's making you weirdly glad to be injured and stuck here with your babysitter Candy.
>Her soft, vibrant locks of hair fall onto those smooth bare shoulders in just the right way.
>It is now just about 9:30 PM.
>The flash of lightning is now getting frequent outside the window, loyally followed by equally frequent thunder.
>Heavy rain pelts the roof, probably loudly enough to keep your brothers up at this point.
>The cable connection starts to dwindle slightly as the dim lights of the living room and kitchen begin to flicker.
>All of this makes you feel chained to Candy's presence even more than you feel chained to this couch by your minor injury.
>You don't know if you like it or not.
>The soft bump of Candy's hip against yours after you start sitting upright again makes you fantasize about... cuddling with her?
>This can't be... you're not supposed to want something like that!
>You're the evil villain the babysitters all fear having to deal with!
>Hell, you even practiced your evil laugh in your room earlier today and everything, and now you're in no mood or position to use it?!
>But there'd be nothing more cozy than snuggling up to this babysitter on a dark and stormy nigh- DON'T THINK THAT!
>The cable connection is only faltering more and more as the minutes go on; the rain outside is really giving the satellite dish on the roof a proper beating like it does every year around this time.
>After finally giving up on trying to find any channel at all to watch, Candy decides to stretch while lounging on the couch with the boy she's babysitting right next to her.
>The inability for her clingy black tank top to stay at her belt line combined with the swell of her soft chest taking up more surface area of that fabric forces the bottom of Candy's black tank top to ride up her midriff as she stretches her arms up.
>Like a curtain rising to display a mysteriously interesting show to you, the black fabric unveils a tease of the smooth, soft, creamy skin of your babysitter Candy's tummy and lower back...
>Providing just enough for a sliver of her bellybutton for it to be noticeable.
>The way her black top tightly stretches over that soft swell of Candy's chest, and undoubtably presses those soft boobies onto the rest of her body more, sends a tingle up your spine the very instant you notice.
>The mental scenario of you running your curious hands along Candy's sweet smooth skin barges its way into your brain despite your attempts at trying to keep it out.
>How could you hope to resist intrusive thoughts about how her smooth warm skin would feel to the direct touch?
>As another crash of thunder sounds outside merely a couple of seconds after the flash of lightning, part of you wonders if these thoughts are even intrusive at all...
>What if the calls for touching Candy are coming from inside the head?
>Candy lets out a cute groan before resting her arms back down.
>For the remainder of your last half an hour up, you sit in silence even more awkward than before.
>Sensing a stiffening tension inside the front of your underwear...
>Wh-... what is happening down there?
>Starting to feel scared and confused, you're hesitant to assess this right in front of your babysitter Candy, assuming that you'd rather not do stuff with your private area with a girl sitting right there.
>But... why is it... just standing up like that?
>Candy might have noticed you glancing at her in strange ways by now, never mind the fact that she definitely must have noticed you shivering as well.
>You first try to stop yourself from trembling so noticeably, which is surprisingly not easy right now.
>The previous angst that had plagued you has been replaced by that growing fear and confusion, a fusion of emotions you for some reason can't decide if you want to embrace or push away.
>Which in turn makes it get even stronger, especially after Candy resumes interacting with you.
>"I'm glad I don't have to do my homework tonight. You're lucky you haven't had to start taking things like pre-calc yet." Candy says.
>The thing happening inside the front of your underwear only begins to get more intense... it's getting more and more stiff and insistent on trying to stand all the way up like a marble pillar.
>What in the world is happening to you?!
>Quiet panic begins to set in.
>What in the world is happening to you!?
>This... isn't right...
>It can't be!
>It feels like it is something natural but... you still don't want it...
>Unbeknownst to you, your sexual awakening has now kicked into full gear, entered full swing with your first erection.
>There is no going back now.
>All you can do is desperately ask your own built-in nature to sleep in a little longer, which may not be a possibility anymore by now.
>Now too scared and confused to allow this to go on any longer, you decide to go to bed twenty minutes early.
>You're already getting up early anyway...
>You are 90% sure that Candy noticed what was going on inside your underwear all because of her through your pants after you stood up in front of her.
>"Is... everything alright?"
"I'll... see you next weekendI'mgoingtobed!" You quickly limp out of the living room then up the stairs, unable to see the smile that spreads across Candy's face while you have your back turned.
>---
>Meanwhile, Candy is just glad to finally find herself in a mission she's able to control, having concluded to herself that your two younger brothers would end up just being a failure waiting to happen in future years.
>The reason why is stained everywhere in the platonic playing session she shared with them, when she discovered just how weird Wood and Forest really are.
>She recounts everything, looking at it through the lens of both her imagination and their combined imaginations that drowned hers out almost as much as it drowned out that of their older brother.
~
>Around an hour or so earlier...
>---
>Across the horizon are a couple of distant figures that only look small due to how far away they are.
>The sun above is unforgiving, unrelenting, unapologetic, unwavering, uncompromising and unforgiving (again).
>No tree can ever hope to grow through the thick dunes of sands that coat the world here.
>The ground below is uninhabitable and insufferable, with the solid surface of the large rocks being just as unforgiving as the cruel sun above in the cloudless sky.
>And now approaching closer are two large machines, non-living but sentient.
>No biomass whatsoever.
>Not necessary.
>Dry grime and dust thinly coat their thick metal armor as they trudge across the harsh dunes towards their destination, slowly advancing towards the checkpoint.
>Red glowing cyclops eyes fixated ahead as their large square-ish shoulders move back and forth with every menacing step across the searing ground.
>Unbothered by conditions that would have any mortal collapsing to their knees by now, the two machines complain about being inconvenienced by this mission.
>Being this far away from the city to scout this pointless secluded area where nothing is anyway.
>How many times do they need to confirm that nothing's out here?
>No one can survive out here, this is pointless.
>"This is sooooooo boring, we could have been..." One heavily lumbering machine groans. "...blowing up the whole citadel by now."
>"I think they called the wrong members of the gemini project to do this." The other replies.
>Every few hundred massive steps in one direction makes the remaining thousands of steps feel like they're going to have to be either longer strides or in a higher number.
>The sun's futile beatdown heating up their heavy metal armor does not roast the flesh it thinks it is, only making a series of stoves and grills out of solid rusty metal that's too murky to reflect any of the light back into the sky.
>---
>So many hours... actually days later.
>The two machines finally make it to the tower where the desert princess told them to make it to.
>The looming tower has one half of its height illuminated by the setting sun, poignant against the orange sky as a frighteningly ominous dust storm threatens to speed up the spread of darkness usually reserved for nightfall.
>Everyone inside their buildings will have to trust those walls to keep the countless grains of sand from giving them a bad time.
>These twin machines, however, cannot be bothered to care about the sandstorm incoming from the distance.
>No weak flesh to protect; these two are just built different.
>"Hurry!" The desert princess waves for them to enter through the tower's garage, barely large enough to host them both at the same time.
>She stares at them, expecting living giants like everyone else... but these things are not flesh and blood.
>The door thankfully closes before more than a few hundred grains of sand can fly on in.
>The desert princess can't wrap her head around this... these two moved so much differently than the usual giants she would house in here before slowly taming them and making them do her bidding.
>Giants are usually more powerful than regular humans, and the princess would usually trap two at a time in this tower, knowing she can control their minds with affection.
>"This is your fault!" One machine shouts to the other in his rugged mechanical voice. "We never would have come here if you just listened to me."
>"Don't give me that!"
>"You think you're gonna argue your way out of this?"
>"You're so stupid, I don't think I'll have to say much."
>"I'll show you how stupid I can get!"
>"Fellas! Please!" The princess enters the room, fancy shoes making crunching noises over the scattered lone grains of sand that made it inside.
>She offers them food for the night, but it turns out that they do not require food.
>"Please just direct us to our mission objective." One of the machines says to the princess. "We do not require sleep either."
>"Would be pretty cozy to sleep, though." The other one interjects before getting an annoyed expression from his disgruntled twin.
>"I need you to help me convert a fortress down the way." The princess reveals the second half of the objective that was positioned directly after the area scouting.
>The desert princess immediately tries to fire up her magical powers, the powers that she usually uses to enchant the giants into becoming subservient to her.
>It usually works on anything living and able to feel normal emotions, but this is the first time she's had worry strike her heart in the middle of a moment like this.
>Why can't she enchant these two twin machines?
>They can't be made to care for anything...
>Nevertheless, she gives the machines the coordinates to the nearby fortress she's been trying to court into her domain and dominion, having dominated many of its distant neighbors into submission and devotion, only to look on in dismay as these twins have nothing in their hearts for her powers to grab ahold of.
>They don't even have the appearance of angels from the sky... what are the villagers of the fortress going to assume when these things approach?
>So much information to process at once... and it's become undecipherable to the desert princess.
>She lays a large scroll onto the wooden table under dim candlelight and slowly unrolls it, hoping she can save these two machines from their own brutality before they either destroy themselves or eachother.
>"The people here and I have had a long history of disagreements, but it's only been a lack of communication and understanding. I was hoping you could help me..." She begins, her voice made shaky by the undertone of their dull whirring of gears and wires.
>They're not interrupting, but the intimidation by these two metal monsters itself is interrupting the desert princess.
>She's still quite intrigued by this new territory, finally in awe of what a seemingly impossible task it would be to tame these two as soon as the true opportunity would come.
>"I'd really like to be friends with them, but the chance to make that happen hasn't really... come..."
>The two machines eventually listen, but it's little more than in one ear and out the other.
>Almost how it would have been in one door and out the other had there been a second garage door.
>The two machines didn't even bother waiting to start their mission.
>As soon as the overnight sandstorm outside ended, off they went.
>---
>Here come two more giants, from the direction of the desert princess's favorite tower to hang out in.
>But these two are moving... differently... robotically.
>Wait, what the hell?
>What the hell are those things?!
>The villagers who had set up a plan to diplomatically buy the giants over see the two glowing cyclops eyes approaching from over the giant sand dune, realizing that these things cannot be bargained with.
>One of their comrades approaches with a machine gun anyway.
>What he wanted didn't happen when he opened fire.
>It just doesn't measure up to what he expected to happen; metal ricochets off of more metal, and the true superior firepower is revealed when a brighter light emits from the hands of the machines approaching closer, firing lasers and static emitting blasts of energy that vaporize anything in its path.
>Some villagers didn't live to see tomorrow, those who did weren't present when the machines first arrived.
>The lucky one(s) simply fled.
>From her crystal ball, the princess of the desert watches in horror as the diplomacy she had planned for (and would have luckily gotten had these been giants she could influence) does not pan out.
>Heavy machinery breaches the walls and gates, already making it further than any invading army has, impervious to the bullets fired by fingers that will soon decay along with the rest of their respective bodies.
>Too brutal to be stopped, the machines easily tear down building after building, having already forgotten the princess's orders, anything but obedient.
>Dusty stone and stucco crumbles to the trenches of the ground blow as craters are made after darker dirt from underground is blasted into the open air by superior firepower.
>Speaking of underground, not even the bunkers are safe.
>Flames and ashes are already ready to become everything that identifies this one striving new fortress that could have joined the massive alliance that the desert princess was trying to build.
>But some machines don't know how to build, they only know how to destroy, the concept of life has never crossed their conscience.
>The only thing they leave behind that isn't scorches and rubble is footsteps, which sometimes to serve as the walls to pools of blood.
>The villagers scurrying through the tunnels do not know what to make of any of this, panicking and scrambling to regroup to no avail.
>They expected some form of diplomacy, not some form of tunnel-visioned missions being completed.
>Fear was the only savior on this day.
>Fear and wisdom that trots hand-in-hand with said fear.
>For once, they...
>---
>"You mean there's nothing I can do to help them?" The princess asks the bard she found who had been sheltering a couple of the surviving villagers.
>"Why did you try to tame them?!" The bard recoils in dread after she told her side of the story. "Have you any idea what you have unleashed upon our people?"
>"I... don't understand..." The princess gives him a frantic glint. "I thought I could get through to them like all the others."
>"Someone should have warned you..." The bard says to her. "These two machines... they're a different story. There's something about them that makes them not like even the other robots we have that can be converted to good. They do not abide by the force, the powers that be. There is something inherently rogue about them, and it can afford to disobey anything they so choose."
>"What does this mean then? Are you saying we can't kill them?"
>"If the princess cannot enchant them, then there is nothing that can be done. These things cannot be reached by any hand. Not by any staff, not be any weapon, not by any god or goddess." The bard says to the wounded villager he's been tending to.
>"I can still do it!" Swears the princess. "Everyone has a weakness somewhere, somehow! These two can be converted like everyone else! It'll just take time!"
>Her words fall upon deaf ears, but the thoughts that formed the, refuse to falter in the princess's mind.
>She storms out, determined and devoted to her mission.
>---
>And so, the desert princess set out to find the machines once more, which she does eventually.
>Only to wish she hadn't... only to stumble upon the continuation of the warpath she unknowingly initiated:
>Quickly rolling through the air, jets release plumes of fire in spectacular fashion.
>The machines glare up at them in glee, finally having found a worthy opponent.
>They fire back at it as it drops bombs on them, kicking up so much dirt and such.
>The hissing and crackling of heavy weaponry barks back and forth in an argument of who's going to win this battle.
>Everyone who's been unfortunate enough to get caught in the middle of the crosshairs of this firefight trips on their own feet trying to get away, not having been ready for such mindless, heartless violence that makes their homes burn hotter than that cruel sun ever could.
>Hell has spread some of its territory to the surface, in the form of explosions and screams as terrified faces watch everything they've ever built crumble to the ground.
>This could never be understood.
>From a distance, through the waviness of the hot air radiating from the ground, the desert princess witnesses rage she's never though was possible, the animosity of a thousand suns packaged into each of the machine's glowing red cyclops eyes.
>They almost look like they're enjoying their anger, becoming a menacing pair of glowing red eyes every night after darkness would take the lands hostage, subject to the wrath of these two metallic monsters demolishing everything in their careless path.
>She can hear them laughing, laughing as they angrily glare at the jet above that takes punishing blasts of energy from their cannons from multiple angles.
>The two can hear the pilot crying. Crying as the parachute button fails to save him from the blasts of energy from what he's assuming are two rogue angels.
>His worries are finally forced to come to a conclusion, punctuated by a deafening crash of the jet into the sands below.
>A duet of twisted laughter sounds from the victorious twin machines as they fist bump one another and continue to triumphantly walk on to the next village to raze without consideration for diplomacy.
>The desert princess looks on in confusion at them once again, confusion and what she knows would be disappointment should she try to tame these two once more.
>But as she returned to reality, Candy heard that pop song on the TV, and vowed that one day that she'll not only get you, but she'll get your brothers too... somehow...
>It's just a fact that you're going to be the easy one.
>Candy watches Forest and Wood play with their little bionicle figurines they had previously decided to build their own way instead of following the proper instructions.
>Then... the clock struck 9 PM.
>And then the two of them can be out of the way.
>Out of Candy's way to you.