Wooo, last post till the weekend, wooo.
Rapidly, the Belue home was falling into pronounced disarray. Sicknesses progressively becoming worse, dishes piled the tables, minds took to wandering into shaded, uncanny valleys-the only noise leaving the house was a harsh, terrible cough. The days rolled by, with only the husband, face growing quickly paler and limbs growing steadily thinner, and the daughter, large blue eyes frightened and wide, left the house.
“The Belues?” said Not-Scotsman, huddled over his drink. “Haven’t heard from them in weeks.”
“Last I heard, they’d all got the plague,” whispered SBF. “Malaria. Polio.”
A few semblances of normality remained, however, in the form of Darren Dreamer.
“I BET SHE’S ALREADY DEAD!” cackled Darren, grasping an invisible newspaper. “SUCCESS!”
Inside, the Belue home did little disprove any rumors. If anything, it only sought to ratify them.
Quite hazardously, the dining room had been overrun by flies.
The eldest daughter pretended she was Cinderella, all the while swearing under breath. What was she to do if they died? While she was certain she could manage the house all on her own-nine was the new twenty, she liked to think-the government would never allow it.
A large wheeze boomed from her mother’s bedroom. The mop clattered to the floor.
It was up to Blair to change things. In the morning, she set about to correcting the house. A deadbeat’s den was no place for a growing girl. Or for growing babies, she thought begrudgingly.
She had taken the liberty of hiring a maid. At first sight, Blair couldn’t help but sigh. Remington (Yes, folks, that is his real name) looked nothing like the woman on the ad! She hoped, however, that a new presence in the house would wake Bridget from her dreamy state.
Blair, as usual, was correct.
“I am a hormonally unstable pregnant woman!” shrieked Bridget. “And you think you can just waltz in here, clean my bathroom floors while I’m about to burst, and you expect me to just stand here with my knees locked together until you’re done with the fucking Swiffer? Who hired you anyway? What in the fuck are you doing in my house?!”
“Are you insane?” snapped Remington. “She went by the name of Bridget Belue, and I’m assuming you carry that name, am I correct? So therefore, please stop complaining about the help you hired. It’s enough work cleaning up this hellhole as is.”
“BLAIR!!” Bridget screeched.
Blair, however, was nowhere to be found.
Nowhere within the house, that is.
With the money Benjamin had moved in with, the family had built a small greenhouse, hoping to cultivate some mild reason to go outdoors. Bridget and Benjamin had caught ill by the time of its completion, however, and so the greenhouse had remained unused, lonely and neglected. Blair nursed the tomato plant, hoping fervently that it would grow up big and strong. Her parents needed fresh food to get better.
Besides, Blair was getting sick of all of the spaghetti and grilled cheese.
By that evening, life was beginning to look up again. Between all of the coughing fits, a word slipped in, and then two, and then sentences, a paragraph even. An announcement, long in the waiting, had been made.
“I’m pregnant,” Bridget whispered, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you, but we’ve been so sick, and you’ve been working, and I know this is a terrible time to have a baby, but-!”
“Is it mine?” asked Benjamin drying, putting a hand on her belly.
“Well, yes!” said Bridget indignantly.
“Good,” replied Benjamin. “While you can’t expect me to take care of it-babies are the bane of my existence, and my younger sister drove my poor mother to madhouse in her first year-I suppose it’ll be nice to have a change in the house. Another boy would be delightful. I’d love another man to connect with.”
“You mean you’re okay with it?”
“If I have to change any diapers, I’ll kill myself, but,” he cracked a smile, “I suppose so.”
“Professor, how exactly does one go about changing a diaper?”
“You’re talking to a volleyball in a hat,” replied Professor Ball. “Beats me.”
Discouraged by Professor Ball’s inadequacy, Benjamin paid some much needed attention to his wife. A second Woohoo was in order.
“ALL HANDS ON DECK, ALL HANDS ON DECK!”
“MOM!” yelled Blair, though underneath her striped covers, she smiled. The world was slowly, but surely, getting back on track.
After the baby was born, Bridget realized, she really needed to get to work. She couldn’t sit at home stirring bowls of pasta much longer-it was driving her absolutely mad. Looking through the job listings, her eyes widened in surprise. Could it actually be?
No, of course not. This is the Belues we’re taking about here.
Hold up. No way. Things really are looking up.
INDIANA JONES, HERE WE COME!
The next morning, Blair set off to her first day of school. How she had managed to avoid it for so long, I have no clue.
Bridget, incredibly worried by this development, laid on the porch to mull it over. Blair could be stabbed by a homeless man, her bus driver could be a meth addict, a bear could break into the school, she could be abducted by aliens.
Bridget was a bit jealous of that last one.
Eyes fluttering shut, Bridget drifted to a fitful sleep. As the afternoon dragged on, Blair brought home a surprise visitor, and her mother fled to the kitchen.
“So I’ve never told my parents this,” said Blair, “because they’d totally push me away, but I really think fortune telling would be amazing.”
“That is so cool!” giggled her friend. “But I’m bored of talking. Let’s do something fun!”
“Hey, um, you know what my mom and stepdad do on that, right?”
Oh, what the hell.
Later that evening, Bridget exploded once again.
“Holy shit, I’m a whale.”
Bridget was unable to dwell on this, however, as another bout of misfortune struck.
COUGH COUGH COUGH
COUGH COUGH COUGH
Either I’m going to die, or all of them are.
I really hope I don’t need to start a graveyard already. 😦
Naturally, it got worse.
“OH MY GOOOOOOD!”
“Could you quiet down a little, dear? I’ve got work in a few moments, and I’d really appreciate a moment to admire nature relieving itself.”
Without another word, Benjamin fled to the carpool, leaving a most unsavory scene behind.
“OH MY GOOOOOD!” Bridget howled to night sky. She still was working on that werewolf dream. “THIS HURTS A LOT MORE THAN THE LAST ONE!”
After a few obnoxious cutscenes, the babies popped out. My reaction is pictured below.
YOU CAN JUST KILL ME NOW.
The Belues could hardly manage just one baby, but now two?
And I thought things were getting better. 😦
Between the two babies, Bridget had already decided on a favorite. The girl, Berkley.
“Awh, baby Berkley, I don’t know how I’m holding you like this, but you’re so damn cute, it doesn’t even matter!”
As soon as Berkley had arrived in a sparkling cloud of fairy dust, Bridget had promptly dropped the boy, Bender, on the floor. She would come to regret this much later.
Mom of the year, Bridget.
After gently setting Berkley in her crib, she finally mustered up the good will to hold her son.
“Quit spewing blue!” cried Bridget, turning her head.
Hehehehe, Bender. I love this kid already.
Benjamin, on the other hand, took quite a liking to little Bender. They got on extremely well. As you can see, the only blue in the kitchen was on the walls.
“Please grow up to be just like your father,” murmured Benjamin. It was strange, being a dad. He wasn’t so sure if he liked it. His responsibilities felt daunting, and his sickness was getting worse. He only hoped, quite desperately, too, that he would survive to see them become children. He couldn’t rest as much as Bridget; he had to support the whole damn family.
Slowly, however, Bridget sought to turn this around.
The lady of the house leapt headfirst into the adventurer career, heading to work as soon as Berkley and Bender were born. Benjamin tried his best to take care of the children during the day, but with his illness becoming worse, he convinced Bridget to call up an old friend.
Bender burped. “Hehehe,” he giggled. “Brains.”
As Benjamin grew sicker, he began to think of his death more often. He was too great of a man to die so soon, he believed, snickering. The Grim Reaper wouldn’t take his soul without allowing him a full blown life, or at least a going away party. Besides, he had plenty left to do in Pleasantville. The twins’ birthday was that night, and he had a few preparations to make. A party felt like it was begging more misfortune, and though he was certain Bridget would have sanctioned it-not that he really cared, but it felt important for her to approve her children’s birthday plans, he was not sure he could handle another event like Blair’s party. Benjamin was not looking forward to seeing Einstein again. He’d been quite rude.
Birthday cakes set up, it was time for the aging to begin.
In a swirl of confetti, Berkley exploded into a very typical outfit. Neither of her parents much approved, but money was to be saved for house expansion, and couldn’t be spent on more unconventional clothing.
Bender was next. He zoomed into the air with his own brand of confetti bomb. As he flew, he shouted:
“AWH HELL YEAH!”
Birthdays! More misfortune! Grilled cheese! Zombies! And hopefully werewolves!
Sorry that chapter was so long and the beginning so depressing, yeesh. There was so much to write about! I really love Bender, though. This heir vote is going to suck.
I leave you with this.
YOUR MOTHER PLAYS CARD GAMES IN HELL
Oh dear…this isn’t The Exorcist, Blair.