Chunks of macaroni caked on plates, dozens of stacks, stacked in dozens.

The old food almost as solid as the porcelain plates they’re stuck to, now having been there days…

The remnants of what on the outside may look like a normal family dinner.

Were the owner of those not Frodo Smackins, that thought might have had a chance at accuracy.

Frodo is humming a tune to himself, washing dishes in his sink. Slowly.

He’s in a good mood, despite the extra hour it might take to catch up on a chore front.

Hell, why wouldn’t he be?

It’s hard not to be in a good mood the way he’s wrecking Peter Gilmour. Has barely had to leave the house, just wreck Gilmour with his own stupidity. The way he’s going to physically maul Gilmour this coming Wednesday.

Peter F’n. The original.

I mean, wait, not the original, the new looking one. But the one who claims to be the original but has the new look.

Right?

Wait, how many Gilmours are th-?

DING.

The door bell signals.

Frodo sets down a dish.

There used to be one Peter Gilmour. I think. And one looks the way he used to look, but the other I think sucks dick like the old one used to suck dick.

Frodo wipes his hands clean on his jeans and heads out of the kitchen.

Then there’s the fat one. Uh, this is too confusing and weird.

Frodo Smackins pops his door open.

"Hello?"

His hair was greasy and wild.

His suit was at the cuffs, pocket, sleeves,

Holding a boquet of fresh, still dew-moistened red roses...

Hands shaking, quivering, quicker than the wind.

“HELLO SIR.”

Frodo… tries to stay in the doorway, keeping at least most of a door blocking the path between him and this yelling stranger.

“Uh…

Frodo squints at this visitor.

“Hey… are you that Flynn guy… I don’t think we’ve met yet, my name’s Frod-”

"EXCUSE ME SIR, PARDON ME FOR THE INTRUSTION. I WOULD LIKE TO DATE YOUR HOME."

"I MEAN HOME YOUR ENTER."

"I MEAN DAUGHTER YOUR ENTER."

"ENTER YOUR DAUGHTER."

"THERE, THATS WHAT I MEANT, SIR. I CANNOT WAIT TO ENTER YOUR DAUGHTER. IT IS ALL I THOUGHT ABOUT ON THE CAR RIDE OVER HERE. I AM SO SORRY SIR I AM JUST SO INCREDIBLY NERVOUS."

Flynn hands over a bouquet of red roses.

"THESE ARE FOR YOU!”

Frodo grins, perceiving that as a poorly executed joke.

“My, how very th-"

Then Flynn pulls out a crowbar.

“AND THIS IS FOR YOUR DAUGHTER!”

“MY WHAT A LOVELY HOME I WOULD LOVE TO TAKE A LOOK AROUND THANK YOU FOR INVITING ME IN."
Flynn presses his way through Frodo.

Frodo throws the roses away chasing after Flynn, who’s past his entryway and into his kitchen.

“Hey, wait. I didn’t invi-.”

Flynn has made his way to the kitchen, sitting next to the sink. His hands still shaking, quivering… Out of control motion…

"I CAME HERE TO LAY ALL MY CARDS ON THE TABLE. MAN TO MAN."

"And I appreciate that. But 1. Kat-"

Flynn turns around toward the sink and takes Frodo’s place washing dishes.

“Oh, um, man, you don’t have to….”

Flynn forces his way through the dishes, thoroughly, maddening in precision and quickness, dishes shooting from one sink to the other, covered in food to clean.

So quickly that the fruit flies surrounding the sink actually begin to disperse…

Flynn continues yelling.

"I AM 35 YEARS YOUNG. I AM CURRENTLY A RECOVERING MORPHINE ADDICT. I JUST SET THE EIGHT FOOT BY EIGHT FOOT STORAGE UNIT I WAS LIVING IN ON FIRE SO I AM HOMELESS."

Flynn pulls up a couple of the clean stacks, then eyes back to Frodo patiently.

Eyes veiny and red.

Frodo is caught in his stare.

…

They both wait.

Though, Frodo isn’t sure what for.

Flynn… trying to break the tension… Lifts the plates.

Frodo catches on as he closes his eyes.

“OH… uh, cabinet closest to your right.”

Flynn forces the plates into the cabinet and then forces his hands back into the sink.

"IM A DOG PERSON AND MY FAVORITE MOVIE IS JURASSIC PARK 3, BUT IF THATS AGAINST YOUR RELIGIOUS BELIEFS, I AM WILLING TO CONVERT TO ANDREW LLOYD WEBBER’S JESUS CHRIST: SUPERSTAR."

"Uh... Well... Look, I don't think that'll be necessary."

"GOOD BECAUSE I WAS BLUFFING MY FAVORITE MOVIE WILL ALWAYS BE JURASSIC PARK 3 IM SORRY DAD I REALLY TRIED."

"What?"

Flynn, not drying his hands, immediately reaches into his pocket…

And then yanks out the cloth of his pocket…

It tearing loudly, screaming as the seams pop off… His pink flesh now visible through the hole in his pants.

He then pulls a pen out of his suit jacket pocket and forces both to the counter top, franticly scribbling.

"NOW THAT WEVE BOTH HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO MAKE OUR INTENTIONS CLEAR, LETS TALK IN DOLLAR SIGNS. IM GOING TO WRITE A NUMBER DOWN ON THIS SLIP OF PAPER. TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS."

Flynn slides his former pocket across the countertop, in front of Frodo, then goes back to dish washing…

"Flynn, I..."

Frodo bites his lip. Curiosity overwhelms him as he grabs the slip of pocket…

He opens it... And squints in confusion.

"Flynn, you wrote a 4 on here. Four what?"

"FOUR EVER. THATS HOW LONG I INTEND TO LOVE YOUR DAUGHTER. THAT IS SOME BOYZ II MEN SHIT RIGHT THERE, SIR."

"Well that's... Fine. I thought you said we were going to talk dollar values."

"OH RIGHT. FOUR MILLION DOLLARS.”

"Four mil-Four MILLION dollars?!?"

"JUST REMEMBERED THAT WHATS I MEANT. I IMPROVISED THAT OTHER THING. BUT HEED THIS. I REFUSE TO GO ANY LOWER."

"…Didn't you just say you were living in a storage unit?... How do you have four million dollars?"

"BEFORE THE STORAGE UNIT I WAS LIVING IN AN ABANDONED MANSION! IM INCREDIBLY THRIFTY!"

“ALSO, I WRESTLED THE ONLY TWO MATCHES IN XWF HISTORY AGAINST A CONVICTED SERIAL MURDERER A COUPLE YEARS AGO. TURNS OUT THAT RAISES YOUR STOCK A LITTLE BIT.”

Frodo strokes his chin.

Then shakes his head.

“Look, Flynn, I think an above average number of people have asked me if they can buy my daughter into their servitude. And for much less than four million dollars, I’ll admit that.”

“But, shes a grown woman, I can’t make her decisions. We get into some occasionally weird shit, but I love her. And she seems like she’s pretty into that Tommy Wish kid. I ca-“

“THOMAS WISH?!? THAT MANIAC?!?”

Mark hacks from his throat, then spits on the ground.

Which since they’re indoors, is carpet and immediately stains into the rug.

“Aw man, c’mon, I just had that insta-“

Flynn’s hands shoot into the air, remembering vividly his sordid past…

“MY FIRST CHALLENGE IN THE XWF WAS AGAINST THOMAS WISH.”

“TWO LONG YEARS AGO… 2012..."

Frodo sticks Flynn’s hands back into the sink, as they slowly take up another dish…

“You don’t say?”

“YES. THOSE WERE VERY DIFFERENT TIMES.”

“FOR ONE, HE WAS 16 YEARS OLD INSTEAD OF 38 LIKE HE IS NOW.”

“AND ALSO HE WAS BLACK INSTEAD OF WHITE.”

“ALSO IN 2013, BETWEEN THOSE TWO POINTS IN TIME, HE WAS A 19 YEAR OLD PUNK WITH A MOHAWK FOR SOME REASON.”

“Wow, okay, you have to leave.”

“NO SINCERELY. IT’S RECORDED IN XWF HISTORY FOREVER, YOU CAN LOOK IT UP. HE SHAPESHIFTS AND AGES AT HIS OWN WHIM. LIKE THE PRINCE OF LIES HIMSELF, TWISTING HIS IMAGE AS IT PLEASES HIM.”


I’m not fucking kidding. Tommy Wish is a motherfucking Time Lord.

“This is… fascinating… And also… deeply disturbing… Hey, while we’re on the subject, what’s the deal with Gilmour, maybe you could help me fig-”

Flynn grabs Frodo by the collar with both hands and hoists them into the air.

“LISTEN DAD. I-“

Frodo smacks Flynn’s hands and finds his feet firmly back on the floor.

“Let’s keep it at Frodo for right now.”

Flynn returns to the dishes. Mechanically, rinsing, soaping, re-rinsing, putting in the sink. Mindless. As if his brain and body exist in two different planes.

“ILL ADMIT THAT IM NOT A MASTER OF TIME TRAVEL OR CAPABLE OF BODY SWITCHING OR LYING ABOUT MY AGE.”

“IN FACT, THE ONLY THINGS I SEEM TO HAVE A KNACK FOR ARE ASSAULT, BATTERY AND THE OCCASIONAL PAPER MACHE PROJECT.”

“Look, I’m sure my dau-… Paper mache?”

“BUT I WOULD DO ANYTHING TO DEMONSTRATE THAT I AM WORTHY OF YOUR DAUGHTER. ANYTHING. INCLUDING PAYING YOU AN AFOREMENTIONED FOUR MILLION DOLLARS.”

“Oh, every time you say that, it stays tempting.”

Frodo shakes his head.

“Look, let’s start from the top if we could… How exactly do you know Katie?”

Flynn inhales deeply, savoring the very fibers of air that may have once housed the elegant creature of his dreams.

The medicine of her once-presence shimmering in his memory…

Heals his nerves… Calms his mind…

“Is that… Her name? I only knew to come here because I remember you were near the first time I saw Her. I figured you must know Her…”

“Then, I saw Her on… his arm…?”

Frodo turns his head to the side, trying to make sense of any of this.

“Who… Whose arm? Tommy’s?”

“I… I don’t know if I remember… I was really high on morphine…” Flynn grabs the wall, suddenly dizzy.

“Whoa.” Frodo weighs a little less than Flynn, but still manages to support his weight. He hooks his arm under Flynn’s and step walks him away from the sink…

“There was… There was a thief there… He took Her… He has Her…”

Frodo edges Flynn back to the entry hallway…

And sets him gingerly down on the couch…

Flynn… can’t seem to see…

He blinks rapidly… Trying to clear the vision within his mind’s eye…

“She’s gone… She… He stole Her…”

Frodo smacks him about the face, feeling kind of bad about letting a clearly mentally ill man take care of his dish problem…

“No, no. Listen, Flynn. She’s fine. She left the house last night and she always turns u-“

RING

The phone screams from the other room.

“Uh… Hang on, that’s definitely her now.”

Frodo dashes from the entry hallway and sprints to the phone hooked into the wall in the kitchen.

“Smackins residence.”

“Hey, daddy, this is Katie.”

“Speak of the devil, me and your little friend… well, aged friend… huh, now that I think about it, I guess he’s younger than your current beau…”

“…What are you talking about?”

“Well, I guess Tommy… TOMMY. Listen, Katie, you need to look into that Tommy kid. He’s apparently 16 or something. Or he was two years ago. And he used to be a black man, apparently?”

“…Dad, What are you on? Tommy and I broke up anyway."

“No, really, if you don’t believe me, I’ll put your little crusher on the phone, this Flynn guy.”

Frodo giggles.

“He has got it BAD for you, sweetheart.”

“…”

“Who the fuck is Flynn?”

CRASH.

Frodo slams the phone.

“Da…”

Frodo runs back out of the kitchen…

Just in time to discover an empty couch…

And a broken window.

No glass shards on the inside, so someone broke out…

“God damnit….”

“…”

More…

Fucking…

Chores...