Post by numberunknown on Apr 24, 2007 0:55:53 GMT
Alright, this is real crummy, and doesn’t make much sense… but is simply an experiment on Joey. I am guessing on the difference in their ages, but I am making Wally eighteen and Joey nine. Wally remembers the KND, because he was in the TND, but he isn’t being used anymore. Thank you, and enjoy. Criticism is welcomed gladly.
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The house was completely silent. Joey Beetles sat on his bed, his scrawny legs crossed, and his head buried in an advanced 2x4 technology guide. His yellow blonde hair, just a bit to long for his liking, was brushed to the side to avoid obscuring his vision. He wore a dark blue t-shirt which hung almost to the knees of his huge jeans. Joey was used to wearing clothes that were too big for him, as everything that he owned had been his older brothers at one point. Wally hadn’t been huge, but Joey was so slim, that almost anything was three sizes too big.
Grinning, he took a small note in his binder, which was getting fatter by the day. He was one of the Kids Next Doors greatest technologists in history, and he knew immodestly that his habitual studying had a lot to do with that.
Suddenly, the radio in the room next to him turned on so loudly that Joey nearly jumped out of his baggy clothes. And along with the music, came his older brothers’ ear-piercing singing. More like screaming.
Joey got to his feet and went to the wall, banging as hard as he could. “Could you keep it down?” He yelled as loudly as he could. Unfortunately, he had never had the loud voice that Wally had, so his calls weren’t heard. “Please?!”
No response.
The boy sighed deeply and went to close his binder before leaving the room. Wally’s bedroom was right next to his, but about three times bigger. Joey hated his older brothers’ room. It was filled with empty cans of energy drink, weights, and exercising equipment; the exact opposite from his own room, which had three bookshelves, a computer and a desk piled with family photos. It wasn’t that Joey didn’t like sports and fitness; it was that he was never any good at it. His skinny figure had no muscle whatsoever, and he was tired out before he ran a half mile. Stuff like sports was Wally’s department.
As was being a nuisance.
Joey slammed on his brothers door as hard as possible, his small balled up fists turning white. Finally, he came out.
“What is it now?” He asked. Wally’s voice was much deeper with a much heavier Australian accent than Joey’s.
“Could you keep it down, please?” Joey asked softly, “I’m trying to…” It took a second to admit to the act of doing what his brother teased him about every day. “I was trying to study.”
Wally scoffed and shoved his brother lightly. Although the push was weak, Joey stumbled backward. “Stop being a baby.” Bullied the oldest, “Can’t you study with music?”
“Could you just turn it down?”
“No.”
For being a nine year old, Joey Beetles was extremely bright. He had been skipped up a grade to the sixth, and went to school among the oldest of the Kids Next Door. He knew literature, math and science forward and backwards. The same way he knew his brother. Joey had given up on having a close relationship with Wally about a year back, realizing that it was just too much work and not worth his time. Joey loved his brother, yes, but never tried to have a normal fraternal bond with him.
“Alright, I guess. I’ll go to the treehouse.”
The little boy turned around, and went to retrieve his binder and books. When he came back out of his room, Wally was waiting.
“Hey, kid.” Wally said flatly, “What do you think of these?” He asked, flexing his muscles so that they bulged out like basketballs. “Nice?”
Trying his best to grin heartedly, Joey said, “Yeah. I bet you could lift anything.”
That was the only thing Wally would talk about. How much he could lift.
“Benched two-fifty yesterday.” He boasted, “That’s about two-forty-nine more than you, huh?”
“Yeah. Sure, Wally.”
“Hey, kid. Guess my push-up record.”
Joey licked his lips, annoyed. He wanted to study. He wanted to go to the tree house. Was that way too much to ask?
“One-twelve. That’s one-twelve more than you, huh?”
Joey nodded as politely as possible, and then, rather curtly, he shot, “Yeah. Sure, whatever. You’re superman, and I’m your flaccid younger brother who you couldn’t be bothered to leave alone.”
Wally gave Joey the look that he gave whenever his diction had been too large. “Flaccid?”
“Never mind.”
And with that, the kid left.
As he loaded up his ship; a well built, slick helicopter, Joey had to strain from admitting to himself his own sorrow. Wally was so much nicer with his friends, always intellectual, and even when not intelligent fun to be with. But Joey got none of it.
“Stupid brother,” he muttered to himself, “Can’t be bothered to cut me a bit of slack. Let me study. He could at least love me…”
“Joey?”
The kid turned around to find one of Wally’s very old friends, Hoagie Gilligan behind him. He turned a bright shade of red and wondered if he had been listening. “Oh…” he said timidly, “Hi.”
Hoagie smiled absently, “Is Wally around?” He asked. His voice was a lot deeper than anyone else’s his age, and he seemed to open his mouth, which sat below a slight mustache, just a bit wider when he spoke.
“Yeah.” Joey said quietly, “He’s in his room. Lifting.”
“Go figure.”
When Hoagie was out of sight, the small boy threw his head down onto the cotton seat of his ship in anguish. How could his brother have so many friends, and he had none? Joey admitted to himself that he wasn’t the ‘coolest’ nine year old in the world, but he certainly wasn’t unlikable. Was he? But that was beside the point. He didn’t even want that many friends. He just wanted his brother.
He stood up and started pacing, telling himself to walk it off. He couldn’t act like this; like it was the end of the world. That was selfish.
Joey never got around to going to his treehouse. He had thought in the open garage for so long that he had gotten tired and fallen asleep in the drivers seat. He had curled up into a tiny ball, and drifted off easily. He could sleep just about anywhere.
It was at the peak of an unremembered dream that someone shook him awake. He opened his eyes and as he fell back into consciousness with a thud, the cold air pierced his entire body. Wally was standing over him, shaking him gently.
“Joey. Joey.”
Joey squirmed a little bit and then said, “Stop shaking me, okay? I’m awake.”
“Thought you were dead or something.”
He sighed and rolled over. “What time is it?”
“Midnight.” Wally said patiently, “You’ve been out here for seven hours.”
Joey did some quick math in his head. He had spent at least two hours randomly going over his life in his mind, and then fallen asleep for five hours.
After a moment, Wally asked quietly, “Are you okay?”
Before he answered, Joey suddenly realized how ice cold he was. And he was shivering all over. “I’m kind of cold.”
And for the first time that Joey could remember, his older brother did something worth remembering. Wally took off his huge gray sweater and put it over his younger brothers’ shoulders. The cloth weighed almost twice Joey’s weight, but it was warm.
“Next time you want to sleep out here, close the garage door,” Wally joked with a humorously smug grin, “If you keep this up, you’ll be… hypirthonic.”
“Hypothermic?”
“Yeah. That.”
Wally ruffled Joey’s hair, and Joey glowed on the inside.
When the younger of the boys was in bed, wrapped in three blankets, smiling in his sleep, Wally went into his own room. There, on the desk, was the phone, not yet hung up. He picked it up, and listened to the other line. “’M back, Hoagie.”
“So how’d it go?”
“Fine. Good thing you hear everything, huh?”
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I know, stupid ending, but I couldn’t think of anything else.
----------------------------
The house was completely silent. Joey Beetles sat on his bed, his scrawny legs crossed, and his head buried in an advanced 2x4 technology guide. His yellow blonde hair, just a bit to long for his liking, was brushed to the side to avoid obscuring his vision. He wore a dark blue t-shirt which hung almost to the knees of his huge jeans. Joey was used to wearing clothes that were too big for him, as everything that he owned had been his older brothers at one point. Wally hadn’t been huge, but Joey was so slim, that almost anything was three sizes too big.
Grinning, he took a small note in his binder, which was getting fatter by the day. He was one of the Kids Next Doors greatest technologists in history, and he knew immodestly that his habitual studying had a lot to do with that.
Suddenly, the radio in the room next to him turned on so loudly that Joey nearly jumped out of his baggy clothes. And along with the music, came his older brothers’ ear-piercing singing. More like screaming.
Joey got to his feet and went to the wall, banging as hard as he could. “Could you keep it down?” He yelled as loudly as he could. Unfortunately, he had never had the loud voice that Wally had, so his calls weren’t heard. “Please?!”
No response.
The boy sighed deeply and went to close his binder before leaving the room. Wally’s bedroom was right next to his, but about three times bigger. Joey hated his older brothers’ room. It was filled with empty cans of energy drink, weights, and exercising equipment; the exact opposite from his own room, which had three bookshelves, a computer and a desk piled with family photos. It wasn’t that Joey didn’t like sports and fitness; it was that he was never any good at it. His skinny figure had no muscle whatsoever, and he was tired out before he ran a half mile. Stuff like sports was Wally’s department.
As was being a nuisance.
Joey slammed on his brothers door as hard as possible, his small balled up fists turning white. Finally, he came out.
“What is it now?” He asked. Wally’s voice was much deeper with a much heavier Australian accent than Joey’s.
“Could you keep it down, please?” Joey asked softly, “I’m trying to…” It took a second to admit to the act of doing what his brother teased him about every day. “I was trying to study.”
Wally scoffed and shoved his brother lightly. Although the push was weak, Joey stumbled backward. “Stop being a baby.” Bullied the oldest, “Can’t you study with music?”
“Could you just turn it down?”
“No.”
For being a nine year old, Joey Beetles was extremely bright. He had been skipped up a grade to the sixth, and went to school among the oldest of the Kids Next Door. He knew literature, math and science forward and backwards. The same way he knew his brother. Joey had given up on having a close relationship with Wally about a year back, realizing that it was just too much work and not worth his time. Joey loved his brother, yes, but never tried to have a normal fraternal bond with him.
“Alright, I guess. I’ll go to the treehouse.”
The little boy turned around, and went to retrieve his binder and books. When he came back out of his room, Wally was waiting.
“Hey, kid.” Wally said flatly, “What do you think of these?” He asked, flexing his muscles so that they bulged out like basketballs. “Nice?”
Trying his best to grin heartedly, Joey said, “Yeah. I bet you could lift anything.”
That was the only thing Wally would talk about. How much he could lift.
“Benched two-fifty yesterday.” He boasted, “That’s about two-forty-nine more than you, huh?”
“Yeah. Sure, Wally.”
“Hey, kid. Guess my push-up record.”
Joey licked his lips, annoyed. He wanted to study. He wanted to go to the tree house. Was that way too much to ask?
“One-twelve. That’s one-twelve more than you, huh?”
Joey nodded as politely as possible, and then, rather curtly, he shot, “Yeah. Sure, whatever. You’re superman, and I’m your flaccid younger brother who you couldn’t be bothered to leave alone.”
Wally gave Joey the look that he gave whenever his diction had been too large. “Flaccid?”
“Never mind.”
And with that, the kid left.
As he loaded up his ship; a well built, slick helicopter, Joey had to strain from admitting to himself his own sorrow. Wally was so much nicer with his friends, always intellectual, and even when not intelligent fun to be with. But Joey got none of it.
“Stupid brother,” he muttered to himself, “Can’t be bothered to cut me a bit of slack. Let me study. He could at least love me…”
“Joey?”
The kid turned around to find one of Wally’s very old friends, Hoagie Gilligan behind him. He turned a bright shade of red and wondered if he had been listening. “Oh…” he said timidly, “Hi.”
Hoagie smiled absently, “Is Wally around?” He asked. His voice was a lot deeper than anyone else’s his age, and he seemed to open his mouth, which sat below a slight mustache, just a bit wider when he spoke.
“Yeah.” Joey said quietly, “He’s in his room. Lifting.”
“Go figure.”
When Hoagie was out of sight, the small boy threw his head down onto the cotton seat of his ship in anguish. How could his brother have so many friends, and he had none? Joey admitted to himself that he wasn’t the ‘coolest’ nine year old in the world, but he certainly wasn’t unlikable. Was he? But that was beside the point. He didn’t even want that many friends. He just wanted his brother.
He stood up and started pacing, telling himself to walk it off. He couldn’t act like this; like it was the end of the world. That was selfish.
Joey never got around to going to his treehouse. He had thought in the open garage for so long that he had gotten tired and fallen asleep in the drivers seat. He had curled up into a tiny ball, and drifted off easily. He could sleep just about anywhere.
It was at the peak of an unremembered dream that someone shook him awake. He opened his eyes and as he fell back into consciousness with a thud, the cold air pierced his entire body. Wally was standing over him, shaking him gently.
“Joey. Joey.”
Joey squirmed a little bit and then said, “Stop shaking me, okay? I’m awake.”
“Thought you were dead or something.”
He sighed and rolled over. “What time is it?”
“Midnight.” Wally said patiently, “You’ve been out here for seven hours.”
Joey did some quick math in his head. He had spent at least two hours randomly going over his life in his mind, and then fallen asleep for five hours.
After a moment, Wally asked quietly, “Are you okay?”
Before he answered, Joey suddenly realized how ice cold he was. And he was shivering all over. “I’m kind of cold.”
And for the first time that Joey could remember, his older brother did something worth remembering. Wally took off his huge gray sweater and put it over his younger brothers’ shoulders. The cloth weighed almost twice Joey’s weight, but it was warm.
“Next time you want to sleep out here, close the garage door,” Wally joked with a humorously smug grin, “If you keep this up, you’ll be… hypirthonic.”
“Hypothermic?”
“Yeah. That.”
Wally ruffled Joey’s hair, and Joey glowed on the inside.
When the younger of the boys was in bed, wrapped in three blankets, smiling in his sleep, Wally went into his own room. There, on the desk, was the phone, not yet hung up. He picked it up, and listened to the other line. “’M back, Hoagie.”
“So how’d it go?”
“Fine. Good thing you hear everything, huh?”
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I know, stupid ending, but I couldn’t think of anything else.