Been in a fic-writing mood lately! This is totally stupid and I do realize I'm an idiot, but it makes me happy, and I wanna share it XD I don't own anything except this particular words in this particular order.
"So when you get to level 16, there's this one spot where you have to swing on vines-"
"-across this stretch of lava, and you gotta be careful because every few spaces-"
"-one of those fireball guys will jump up and you could get-"
"Shawn, what's with the pebble?"
Shawn paused for a second, foot aimed for another kick that would send the pebble skittering across the sidewalk again.
"It's kinda addicting." He shrugged, then resumed his game with another punt. Gus rolled his eyes as the tiny rock rolled over to his side of the pathway, and after a minute or two of Shawn's pleading gaze, he joined the game and kicked it back.
They went back to the latest Super Mario game, kicking the rock back and forth almost subconsciously now. After a couple of minutes, Gus suddenly asked, "How far are we gonna take this thing?"
"All the way home," Shawn decided.
Gus stopped. "Dude, we still have like twenty minutes 'till we're back at your house. You're gonna keep this up for that long?"
"Sure, why not? And we should name him, if we're gonna keep him around this long-"
"I like Rocko," Shawn said, ignoring Gus, who immediately scoffed.
"We are NOT naming him Rocko, Shawn." Gus gave an especially sharp kick just to punctuate his point, but Shawn just grinned.
"Then what do you want to call him?"
"That's worse." Kick.
"Then you pick - but NOT Rocko." Kick.
"Let's name him after my dad."
Gus stopped and stared at his friend. "You want to kick your dad across the street for the next fifteen minutes?" Despite the dismay in his tone, he couldn't help fighting off a grin at the idea.
Shawn grinned and punted again, this time landing the stone in a patch of grass. The boys stared at it for a second.
"Should we pick your dad up or try to kick him out?" Gus asked, and immediately both their faces broke into smiles that were even brighter - and perhaps harsher - than the Santa Barbara sunlight.
"I'm kicking him out!" Shawn circled around the rock for a moment, looking for a good angle to start at, before giving it a sharp boot. The rock only mushed deeper in the soil. He tried again, but with the same result. Each attempt got harder and harder, until finally the stone popped out of the dirt and flew with a crack into the busy street.
"Crap," Shawn said just as Gus shouted, "Mr. Spencer!"
And then they watched as car after car passed by, laughter doubling every time one ran "Henry Spencer" over, until both of them were practically in tears on the sidewalk, books nearly spilling out of their backpacks.
"I feel so guilty!" Gus finally gasped out.
"We should go and get him," Shawn snickered, wiping the tears away. "Maaan, that felt good!"
"There's a break in the traffic, let's run." Gus gave him a little shove. "He's your dad, you first."
Together they dashed across the street, nicking the red stone between them until Henry has been safely kicked out of any other oncoming traffic. Their lungs still fighting for oxygen, they debated whether or not Henry was dead and if they should have a funeral or just continue down the street. Finally logic won Gus over - "Who besides the Coyote from Looney Tunes could survive that many hits in a row?" Shawn had reasoned - as they turned the corner to a grassy park and collapsed on the ground. Sitting in the shade of an oak tree, they watched the shadows grow longer as they discussed the kind of funeral Henry the Rock should have.
"Cremating is better, 'cause then there won't be anything undead to haunt us later."
"Then we can set him afloat on some bark and light it on fire!"
"That's only for Viking warriors, and Mr. Spencer never did anything heroic."
"He's a cop!"
"Mr. Spencer the rock isn't!"
"Well, he saved our lives by taking all those hit-and-runs for us."
"You just want to set something on fire, don't you? And anyway, he didn't save our lives at all, we just murdered him Karate Kid style."
"That wasn't murder, it was totally an accident, I was trying to get him out of the grass."
"That would never hold up in court, Shawn, and you know it!"
"Then we have to hide the body so we don't get caught," Shawn decided, standing up and brushing off his jeans. Adopting a Mafia-type accent, he added, "Let's dump him in the lake with some cement shoes."
"He's a rock, Shawn. He'll sink fine on his own."
And that was that. They carefully booted him over to the pond, put their hands over the hearts and gave one, final kick that sent him spiraling into the not-so-deep blue, forever gone.
"I'm hungry," Gus suddenly complained.
"Wanna go find some food?"
"You know that's right."