Chapter Text
"Damn it."
Beavis grit his teeth as he pressed his chipped fingernail on the power button. He'd been fumbling with the remote for a while now. Gripping the remote so tightly its plastic cracked, he slammed it on the floor. Its batteries flew out the back, scattering across the floor, killing it. The remote was dead, and that set the tone for the day. The whole house was dead, the fridge emptied, bathrooms unstocked, vape cartridge drained. Butt-Head was dead, too. He was slumped over on the floor, snoring and asscrack hanging out to high heaven.
"Get your hairy ass up, Butt-Head." Beavis said, kicking him. "We gotta run some errands, c'mon."
"Uh," Butt-Head yawned. Drowsily, he rolled over and slid on the couch. He stretched out his arms and leaned his head back. "Tomorrow."
"No, no, no." He knew his husband far too well to accept that answer. The couch was a trap. "Today."
Rubbing sand out of his eyes, Butt-Head noticed the dead television screen staring back at him. He reached for the remote and pressed the power button, only to discover it was nothing but a corpse. He groaned. Today was the day they had to run errands, no doubt about it. They waited until the very last minute to run errands. Buy food, buy the essentials, get just the bare minimum to function and run back into the safety of home. An evil necessity, they had no choice but to do boring things. This was the consequence of the freedom of adulthood, the stuff that sucked. The mundane.
"I guess we gotta, like, get food and stuff." Butt-Head said.
"Yeah," Beavis said. He shook his empty vape cartridge sadly. "I need more vape juice, too."
"Uh, and beer."
Beavis smiled. They'd never forget that.
There were other things that they needed, of course, but organization wasn't their strong suit. They didn't write lists, never owned a notebook, rarely used a pen. Despite that, they survived. Butt-Head took a dump, then stumbled his way into the bedroom to throw on a shirt and pants. Beavis was already dressed, and for his low standards, decent enough. Scraping up what little money they had, they left the apartment to begin a busy day.
Where they lived, the "bad" side of Highland, wasn't known for its amenities. The liquor store was the community center and the pawn shop was the bank. There was a rinky-dink supermarket, the one decent people avoided, that they frequented. Recently remodeled, finally after years of resistance, but still crusty and outdated-feeling. Thin layers of paint didn't change much. Butt-Head rode in his scooter while Beavis crossed off the list he'd written in his head.
"Let's see," Beavis whistled. He went through the items in their basket. "We got beer, we got condoms and, uh, I guess that's all the groceries we need. Anything else, Butt-Head?"
"Uh, food."
Beavis blinked and nodded his head.
"Hm, okay, I guess."
The most important food groups, chips and pizza rolls, were priority. Beavis was the health expert, and he was in charge of the meal prep. He shoved sugary cereal brands, soda, and different types of off-brand snacks in their cart.
"Don't get any of that Cheery-Hoe crap." Butt-Head said. Kickass name, but not to their taste.
"No way," Beavis shivered at the thought. "That stuff's disgusting."
"Honey nut."
They took a moment to laugh at the absurdity of bee cum cereal. A hardy laugh, one they let linger on far past expiration of the joke. Once they were nearly out of breath, they quit laughing abruptly, and made their way to the electronics section. Staring into the basket, Beavis stopped himself.
"I'll be back." Beavis said.
Smart enough to catch himself this time, he returned to the snack aisle for some missing items. He scanned the aisle up and down, trying to jog his memory of exactly what he'd forgotten.
"Hm, uh," Beavis mumbled. "Ah, there it is."
A pack of marshmallows and graham crackers, how'd he forget? After all these years, it was still Butt-Head's favorite food.
In their younger days, they'd go to the junkyard or dumpster diving in search of barely-alive batteries. Now older and wiser, they just stole.
"Coast is clear, Butt-Head." Beavis whispered, acting as a bodyguard.
Other times, Beavis would forget that stealing was in fact illegal. No matter what he chose, being the lookout or the ignorant accomplice, none of the employees cared. The dumbest part was that they even bothered to pay for anything at all. Butt-Head began stuffing batteries of all types, triple A's, double A's, C's and D's, all into his pants, the forbidden place. Beavis kept watching for security, darting his eyes from side to side.
"Wait, wait," Beavis whispered, laughing now in nervous fear. In the corner of his eyes, he spotted a suspicious employee picking their nose with earbuds in, eyes dead and daydreaming. "They're onto us."
"I don't care."
"Boy, the weather sure is nice today, Butt-Head." Beavis said, acting natural. He spoke loudly, nervously chucking in between his words, whistling. He leaned in closer to Butt-Head. "Hurry up, bunghole."
Admiring his crotch full of batteries, Butt-Head chuckled to himself. Giddy with excitement, he hunched over, gripped the handles of his scooter. Not looking back, he cranked the scooter as fast as he could and sped off—the getaway driver in the heist. Beavis dashed behind him, eyebrows raised, sweating in fear of the employee still zoned out and enjoying what remained of his fifteen minute break. They had to get out. Stopping the vehicle short of the checkout zone, Butt-Head hummed and rubbed his chin.
"Don't we need toilet paper or something?"
He might as well have called Beavis's mom a slut. Checkout was only a few more steps away, yet Butt-Head was fooling around and leaving them prey for the skilled loss prevention specialists lurking in the dark. Anger rising, Beavis hopped in the basket, his skinny legs sticking out, his ass cushioned by marshmallows and chip bags.
"Let's go, dumbass!" Beavis yelled, pointing at the checkout.
Butt-Head snapped back into character, revving up the scooter as fast as possible, leaning his head forward, eyes focused. No one wanted to be their cashier, but after the third broken self-checkout, someone had to be the sacrifice. Today's victim had an empty line, and her soul felt emptier as she saw them approach. She waved towards them, limp hand, in a way that meant let's get this over with.
"Hey, how's it goin'?" Beavis said. He was slightly lightheaded from the ride, his voice casual and friendly. Struggling to get out of the basket, he strained for a bit, his old back in no condition for such shenangains. They loaded their groceries on the belt, both staring at the cashier.
Silently, she scanned their groceries, wondering what two losers like them were doing with two packs of large condoms. The large bulge in Butt-Head's pants might've explained it, but it was pretty obvious something else was going on.
"We definitely aren't stealing," Beavis said, in his best way at making small talk. He nudged at Butt-Head's side, as he tried to get him to stop messing with his battery bulge. "No ma'am. Not stealing."
That explained it. None of her business.
Once finished, Beavis swiped his food stamp card to pay for the groceries. The leftover total, for the condoms and beer, he paid in cash. So far, despite the blatant theft, the interaction was harmless. The cashier bagged the condoms and breathed an internal sigh of relief.
"Whoa!" Butt-Head said, bug-eyed and snickering.
“Did you see that?" Beavis whispered, stuttering slightly in childish wonder. "She touched something that's gonna touch our wieners."
The cashier still heard them, she just feigned ignorance. Wasn't worth her time paying them any attention.
"Yeah," Butt-Head laughed. "It's pretty cool."
"That's kinda like the closest we've gotten to scoring, Butt-Head. I think."
"Huh? We've already scored, dumbass."
"Oh yeah," Beavis shook his head in embarrassment. Force of habit. "I forgot."
She let them have their conversation, hoping they'd wrap it up soon, grab their change, and go. A line of annoyed customers formed behind them, but that didn't encourage them to hurry up. Situational awareness was never their forte.
"Ahem," The cashier coughed. "Your change."
She dangled the money in her hand like a treat for a dog, which eventually snapped them out of it.
"Thank you, ma'am." Beavis said politely. They left the store, and that crossed off the first task.
"We ripped that chick off." Butt-Head laughed. Now out of his scooter, he held his battery bulge tightly.
"Yeah," Beavis laughed, fondly thinking about the successful heist. "You know you can take those batteries out of your pants now, Butt-Head."
"Why the hell would I do that? I look cool."
"Hm," Beavis looked at his crotch and smirked. "Kinda sexy, actually."
The true gentleman Beavis was, as they walked back home, he carried all the groceries in his arms. His veins popped out of his wide forehead, and his twig arms grasped on the bags for dear life. The groceries weighed more than himself, sure, but Beavis didn't let that stop his chivalry. Butter pecan flavored ice cream dripped from a bag, as it melted under the beating sun.
Walking up the steps of their complex, Beavis strained to take every step, weighed down by the groceries and assaulted by the heat. Surprisingly, he had some endurance, the whole long walk home he hadn't stumbled or dropped anything. The stairs were his downfall. Literally. A few steps up, he tripped, arms giving out, groceries flying everywhere.
"I'm okay." Beavis called out weakly, using what strength was left in his noodle arms to give a thumbs-up. He gathered the dented beer and soda cans off the floor, and made his way back up. Butt-Head stood by the door the whole time, giggling at the silly performance. He walked slower now—not out of precaution, he hadn't learned his lesson—using what little strength was left to conquer the stairs. Now by the door, he waited for Butt-Head to open it.
"Um, Butt-Head," Beavis said, it'd been a few awkward minutes now. "Can you get the door?"
Butt-Head took the keys out of his pocket, grimacing.
"I was hoping my husband would do that." Butt-Head said. The lisp in his voice was sharp, it stung.
"Sure, baby." Beavis used the best suave voice physically possible, nearly out of breath.
Never missing the opportunity to be a gentleman, Beavis went to hold the door open. He strained his arm out to grab the keys, dropping a bag, disfiguring their box of ice cream even further. Butt-Head strolled past the mess. After picking up the ice cream, Beavis followed behind. Everything went in the fridge. Even the things that didn't belong there, like the condoms, it all went in the fridge. Groceries went in the fridge, condoms and cereal are all groceries, so that's where they go. That's how their minds worked. Only thing left to put away was the batteries, but Butt-Head decided those belonged on the floor. He reached into his crotch.
"You look like—" Beavis laughed raspily, covering his mouth. "Like you're chokin' your chicken."
Butt-Head chucked, he hadn't even noticed that. Good observation. He reached into his crotch slowly now, making crude noises and giggling as he threw batteries on the floor in a lewd manner. Once done, he laid on the couch, joining Beavis.
The couch was a trap.
"Um, wait," Beavis said. He adjusted himself, sitting upright. "We still got more errands to do, Butt-Head."
"Ugh," Butt-Head groaned. He wiped sweat off his brow, exhausted from all the hard work he'd done. "Gimme five minutes."
The longest hour of their lives began.They were in no rush to go back out, they could feel the house come back alive, with the fridge now full of new snacks. Beavis grabbed the ice cream he had enough sense to put in the freezer this time, but still mostly melted, sticky and dripping on the carpet. They shared the ice cream, no spoons, licking it directly.
"This is disgusting, Beavis."
They didn't have to resort to this. In the cushions, on the floor, in various nooks and crannies of the apartment they had plastic spoons and forks stolen from MaxiMart.
"Yeah, you are." Beavis laughed in between licks. "You're getting your slobber all over the ice cream."
"No I'm not, dillweed. Now hand it over."
"No way! I'm not gonna let you spit all over it," Beavis squeezed the pint of ice cream tightly, making some of the half-melted ice cream spill over slightly. "Really gross, Butt-Head."
This was a hostage situation.
Beavis began licking the ice cream furiously, slobbering all over it. He was going to eat the ice cream, all of it, he was going to win. Normally, they'd fight about this, but Beavis was shooting himself in the foot here. Butt-Head sat back and laughed, counting down how many licks Beavis had left. He paused mid ice-cream lick. Why wasn't Butt-Head kicking his ass right now? He curved an eyebrow in suspicion.
"It's fine, Beavis." Butt-Head laughed, speaking softly. "You win, it's all yours. Eat up."
That sounded too good to not be true. Celebrating his victory, Beavis continued to gobble down the sickly sweet ice cream. Getting close to completion, he began to feel a loss of control. He started trembling and muttering, eyes wide, uttering incomprehensible phrases. Butt-Head scooted closer, chuckling in anticipation. Beavis lifted his shirt over his head, and Cornholio stood up.
"I am the Great Cornholio! I need—" Beavis keeled over, in a fetal position, clutching his stomach. "Ah! Goddammit! Shit!"
At his age, turning into Cornholio was a bad idea. Sometimes it was only like a bad stomach ache, other times life-threatening. Beavis groaned and his lips quivered, feeling the rare sense of regret for his impulsive actions.
"Ugh," Beavis whimpered. In this vulnerable position, he felt a strange moment of clarity. "Er, maybe I shouldn't have done that."
"Get your bony ass up, Beavis." Butt-Head chuckled, kicking him. He'd call him a dumbass, but that'd be an insult to dumbasses.
Once Beavis had collected himself, they left for their next destination, the vape shop. It sat in a plaza that was both dead and lively, all conveniently next to a Chinese restaurant, cell phone repair shop, a barber shop, and empty, dead units, failed businesses. They loved the convenience of their neighborhood, but they were forced to walk miles in the beating sun to get anywhere. Public transportation was confusing, and sparse.
Everyone at the vape shop knew Beavis's name.
"Hey, Bradley," The owner of the vape shop called out. He imitated Beavis's famous greeting. "How's it going, man?"
"Um," Beavis said. "Okay."
"That's good to hear," The owner laughed. "Let me know if you and your buddy need any help."
"Okay," Beavis said awkwardly. Butt-Head walked around the store, still not knowing much about vaping, willing to learn. "He's not really my buddy, though."
The owner was already attending to someone else, not interested in Bradley's life story. Beavis let the owner serve other customers, having a lively conversation that went on for far too long.
The walls were lined with dozens of different vape flavors, all stacked neatly.
"The usual?" The owner asked Beavis, reaching for his typical order. "Or?"
"Hm," Beavis rubbed his chin. "Er, um."
"Don't be afraid to try something different." The owner grabbed a few different flavors he figured was to Beavis's tastes. Picking a few random flavors off the shelfs, he went on about the variety of fruit-flavored vape juices they had.
"We've got piña colada, pineapple mango, strawberry kiwi…"
Butt-Head laughed and nudged at Beavis's side.
"You want all that health crap," Butt-Head teased, strongly opposed to anything fruit-adjacent aside from grape candy. " Fruit ."
"Um, no," Beavis said. He turned to the vape shop owner. "Do you have any flavors that don't suck?"
"Aw, Bradley," The owner laughed. "Here man. Try it out, you gotta be open-minded."
He grabbed a strawberry kiwi e-liquid container for Beavis to sample. Sniffing the cartridge, Beavis shrugged, unscrewed the cap, and took a drink.
"Hm," Beavis smacked his lips. "It's got a little kick to it. You gotta try this, Butt-Head."
"Er, really?" Butt-Head stopped himself. "I mean, uh, gross. I don't want that crap."
"Shut up, yeah you do." Beavis stuck the container in Butt-Head's face. "It's good for you, butthole. Drink it."
The owner jumped in between them, breaking out in a sweaty panic and laughing nervously.
"Whoa! Uh maybe, let's—" The owner said. Beavis jumped up and down, trying to toss the vape container over the owner's shoulders.
"Drink it! Drink it, wuss!"
"Let's not do that. Just, uh, this one's on the house, how about that?"
Beavis stopped jumping and cocked his head in surprise.
"Really?" Beavis said, and he took another sip of vape juice. "Gee, thanks."
"Please stop drinking that before you kill yourself and leave."
Not heeding his warning, Beavis took a few more slips as he walked out of the vape shop. Acting slyly, Butt-Head whistled and pretended to scratch his ass, slipping a few more containers of strawberry kiwi flavored vape juice in his pocket.
Before heading on to their next errand, they took a smoke break. Butt-Head coughed as he smoked, watching all the other responsible adults in the barren parking lot. The few cars in the lot were barely suitable to be on the road.
"Errands suck." Butt-Head said.
"Yeah." Beavis nodded his head, chuckling. He decided to use some of his vape juice for its intended purpose now, and took a drag. Moments like this made it suck a bit less, though. He crept his hand closer to Butt-Head's, and they enjoyed their loitering on private property. Feeling slightly parched, Butt-Head took the fruit-flavored vape juice out of his pocket and sipped.
"Ugh," Butt-Head coughed and spat it out. "That stuff's nasty, Beavis."
"Told you it had a little kick to it." Beavis chuckled, his laughter wise and all-knowing.
Butt-Head said nothing, allowing Beavis his win for the day, as he silently craved a MaxiGulp to relieve his burning throat. Letting himself recover, Beavis went over what other tasks had to be done. Their phone vibrated in Beavis's pocket, a call coming through. He pressed the green button, an incredibly tech savvy move for him, and answered the phone.
"Mhm," Beavis listened intently. "Whoa! Really?"
"What's going on, Beavis?"
"This dude said he's calling about an extension warranty. I think that means we won a free car, Butt-Head."
"Really? Cool."
"Erm," Beavis talked a bit more with the generous man on the phone. "What's our social securities number again?"
"Uh, it's some government crap. I don't know."
"Damn it," Beavis slammed the phone on the ground. "This always happens! They're always callin' us about cool stuff and we never can get it! This sucks."
Beavis let out a few annoyed huffs, and kicked some gravel. Picking their phone back up, he pricked his finger on the cracked screen.
"We really need to get our phone fixed, Butt-Head." He licked the bit of blood off his finger. "It's kind of sad."
"Good idea, Beavis. Time to get off our asses and get shit done."
A prepaid cell phone provider sat right next to the vape shop, its windows barred. It lived many lives. In the past years it was a failed restaurant, a failed thrift store, a failed sex shop.
"Our phone is broken." Butt-Head said.
He handed the phone to an employee, who immediately saw that Butt-Head wasn't lying. The phone was in horrible condition. The screen wasn't just cracked, it crackled. Dirt was caked in every crevice. The oddest thing, though, was that they had the gall to still have a case on the phone. A thin rubber case that protected nothing. Somehow, the phone booted, with the screen flickering rapidly. They must be true tech geniuses, the man thought, if they could even operate this phone in that state.
"Have you guys ever considered upgrading?" The employee said. Two people, sharing one phone on life support. This wasn't right. "We've got a deal if you add another line and…"
Ignoring the worker, Beavis played with the display phones. Toying with the most expensive phone on display, he touched the screen randomly. His eyes intensely focused as he attempted for the millionth time to understand technology, even at a basic level.
While Butt-Head humored the worker with a blank expression, his most appropriate reaction to any sales pitch. The promise of no credit checks and unlimited data didn't entice Butt-Head. The employee was no miracle worker, and barely tolerated being tech support, but he decided he'd offer what little help he could for the sad, dying phone.
"Alright," The employee said. The question he would ask had far too many answers. "What's wrong?"
"I dunno," Butt-Head shrugged. "It's not working. This phone sucks."
"I can see that." The employee tested the phone, calling his own number on it. "But it works. It's in bad shape, but it works."
Butt-Head said nothing to the man. The employee didn't have time to play mind-reader. He toyed with the settings on the phone, and did an update, hoping that'd get him out of his hair. Once completed, he handed the phone back to Butt-Head, who grimaced as soon as he looked at the screen.
"You still didn't fix it, asswipe."
The employee had no time for this. If he didn't want to upgrade his phone, there was nothing else he could do for him.
"Listen, sir," The employee said bluntly. "That's all I can do. If you're trying to fix the screen, there's a phone repair place at the end of—"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Butt-Head tilted his head slightly. Beavis ran over with a display phone he ripped out, antsy with a panicked face.
"This phone's broken too." Beavis said.
All of the phones he tried out all had a fatal malfunction, and he held the phone up to the employee like found roadkill. The employee gazed at the wrecked phone, then over Beavis's shoulder, and saw a massacre. He'd ripped all the display phones out and they were scattered on the floor, all of their screens cracked. A cellular graveyard. Speechless, the employee stepped back.
"What did you—" The employee said. "This is—"
"What the hell are you standin' around for?" Butt-Head said, frowning. "You gonna show us how to get porn on this thing already or what?"
Porn? The employee damn near threw the phone in their faces, and told them to get out.
"Told you we gotta ask Stewart," Butt-Head said. "He knows how to work this crap."
"Yeah, yeah." Beavis rolled his eyes. "I guess. Whatever." He avoided eye contact with Butt-Head, and lazily swatted his hand. This debate had been going on for months now, and he wanted nothing more than to change the subject.
Soaked in sweat, their clothes were glued to their bodies now. The months of food stains and specks of blood made their shirts appear tie-dyed. Butt-Head sniffed his damp armpit and gagged.
"Maybe we should," Butt-Head paused. Words escaped him. "I dunno."
Beavis was equally stumped. As they walked past the plaza, out of the corner of their eyes they spotted clothes swirling in washing machines. It hypnotized them, and without a word they entered the laundromat. Already distracted, Beavis spent a dollar on a candy bar in a vending machine. Mouth open, he chewed loudly on a chocolate bar. Butt-Head, however, was focused. He began to undress, taking off his brown jacket, stained shirt and shorts. Laundry is simple when your wardrobe is sparse and shameless.
"Um," Beavis said, smacking on chocolate. "What are you doing?"
"Lundry, buttmunch." Butt-Head was dressed in nothing now but his boxers and yellowish socks.
Beavis understood immediately and undressed as well. Near naked, they walked through the laundromat trying to pry open any running machine. An elderly man peered over his newspaper, and immediately recognized them.
"Put some damn clothes on." He grumbled, his eyes burning from the sight of Beavis's flat ass and Butt-Head's hairy back. Other people in the laundromat played on their phones or watched the old televisions mounted on the walls, all smart enough to ignore.
With near inhuman strength, Beavis ripped open the door of a locked machine mid-cycle. Excitedly, he waved for Butt-Head to come over and they loaded their clothes into the machine stuffed with other people's garments. Reaching to slam the door, Beavis got a good whiff of himself and frowned. He was never aware of his own odor, but the scent of detergent in contrast to his own sweat made him self-conscious.
"I kinda stink, Butt-Head," Beavis said. "I need to take a bath."
Long ago, they'd taken a good spin in the dryer, and the washing machine looked refreshing. Beavis stuck his head into the machine, his eyes scanning around the machine. Tight fit. He snatched the other people's clothes out of the washer, discarding them rapidly without care, and attempted to pack himself into the machine.
"Um, little help?" Beavis asked, and Butt-Head was happy to assist.
He arranged Beavis carefully into the machine, slammed the door shut, and resumed the cycle. The sound of the water filling the machine was calming, his lips curling into a relaxed, wobbly smile. He started to drift off to sleep, violently woken by the machine spinning. Instinctively, he held his breath. Soap bubbles burned his eyes as he began the bath from hell. Butt-Head chuckled as he watched Beavis's body bang around in the machine. A few minutes later, the cycle ended, and Butt-Head unlatched the door. A wet rat now, Beavis fell out of the washing machine, dry heaving and trembling on the floor down on all fours.
"I smell good," Beavis wheezed, sniffing himself. "I'm feelin' like a new man. Feelin' sexy."
Beavis stood up, leaning against the washing machine as support. Smiling confidently, he ran his pruney fingers through hair. His slippery wet hand was poor support against the stainless steel machine, and he fell again to the floor, landing right onto the damp pile of other people's clothes he previously discarded.
"That was cool." Butt-Head laughed.
He unloaded their clothes out of the washing machine and got dressed. In a moment of kindness, he grabbed Beavis's limp hand and lifted him off the floor. Once Beavis regained his strength, he put his own drenched clothes on. They strolled out of the laundromat, Beavis smelling like lavender and Butt-Head smelling like a wet dog. They sat on the hot sidewalk in front of the store, allowing their clothes to air dry.
"Aren't we, um," Beavis rubbed his chin. "Forgetting something?"
"Oh yeah," Butt-Head laughed. "You're right, Beavis. I gotta take you to a spot."
"Um, okay," Beavis said. "Where?"
Butt-Head said nothing, laughing and enjoying a smoke as their clothes dried. The day was starting to wind down, but there was something he'd added to the list in his head. Grabbing his hand, Butt-Head took Beavis to a very familiar spot.
"Um," Beavis said, noticing the gleam in Butt-Head's eyes as they got closer to their destination. "We're 'sposed to be running errands. Not going on a date."
Butt-Head furrowed his eyebrows.
"A date is an errand."
"Hm," Beavis thought about it. "I guess that makes sense."
The dumpster, their own hideaway, was a place they'd hang out when their asses were too sore on the couch, and the bed too lumpy.
"Uh, okay." Beavis said. "Pretty cool." He swatted flies out of his face, unsure where Butt-Head was going with this.
Making a sly face, Butt-Head took a lighter out of his pocket. He flicked repeatedly in Beavis's face, on and off and on and off, entrancing him. With every flick, Beavis's pupils dilated, and he muttered ooh , the fire activating a forbidden feeling.
"Check this out." Butt-Head said. Out of caution, Butt-Head swiveled his head back and forth, making sure no one was around. Then, he lit the dumpster on fire. The smell of the burning trash rose as the sun went down. The fire burned bright in the growing darkness, it was evening now. Butt-Head sat back, chuckling, enjoying the sight of seeing Beavis utterly spellbound.
"Fire," Beavis chanted. He pumped his fists, eyes lit up and body trembling, completely entranced now. "Fire! Fire! Fire!"
Butt-Head stood closer by him, still laughing, and wrapped an arm around his waist. In other parts of town, good people are going home, making dinner, and staying safe. At the Highland Gardens apartment complex, the dumpster is the fireplace. After it burned a bit more, the stench drifted to the windows, and someone called security—yeah it's them again.
"Just go home." The security guard sighed. He escorted them from the dumpster area, and thanked himself that at least this time he didn't catch them spanking their monkeys or sniffing glue. They slowly walked up the steps to their apartment, giggling with each step, Beavis still shaking with excitement from everything.
"Pretty cool," Beavis repeated this a few times in a row, between giggles and fire . "Pretty cool. Errands kick ass."
"We're productive members of society." Butt-Head laughed. He held the door open for Beavis, who was far too busy grinning and giggling to himself about the fire to do anything else.
The couch again was a trap, and they were happy to fall for it. So happy that they fell right there on the floor, tripping over the batteries scattered everywhere, a nice gift from hours ago.
"Oh yeah." Butt-Head said. Another incomplete task.
They fumbled with the batteries on the floor, mixing and matching them, in search of the right fit.
"Damn it," Butt-Head cursed under his breath, his frustration growing. "This is starting to piss me off."
Yet another pair of batteries that didn't work. It felt like an hour now, doing this mundane task. He threw the batteries aside without care, one hitting the television, the other hitting the ceiling fan, the projectile stabbing him in the eye.
"This is stupid." Butt-Head said, rubbing his stinging eyes. All that effort they'd taken to getting batteries, the heist, the batteries stuffed in his pants, all were amounting to nothing. A beer and a nap was calling him, he was done with this.
"I think we got the wrong batteries," Beavis thought about it. He fumbled with triple-A batteries, trying to make them fit. "I think our remote's cup-size is, like, a double D."
"Cool," Butt-Head laughed. "Our remote's got big hooters."
"Yeah," Before Beavis could laugh, the triple-A batteries snapped in place. "Nevermind, she's flat."
Beavis pressed the power button, and in hopes the television would finally come alive. The screen, however, was still dead.
Service Disconnected Due to Non-Payment. Call Customer Care.
"Uh," Butt-Head said. "Tomorrow." Butt-Head slouched over, nearly crushing the equally tired Beavis, and they both slept on the floor for the rest of the night.
Butt-Head awoke to the smell of burning pizza rolls.
Technically, they had a microwave, and a stove. Both forbidden items, fire hazards—that's what their landlord told them the fiftieth time they almost burned down their complex. Fire hazards made such ordinary things sound so cool, but the burning pizza rolls left no fire, only a smoky smell.
"Mornin'." Beavis sang, as Butt-Head made a noise that was a combination of a cough and a yawn.
"Open the damn window." Butt-Head responded, wincing at the smell.
Beavis went to open the window, too ignorant to unlatch the lock. He attempted to lift and lift it, but no luck.
"Must be broken." Beavis mumbled to himself.
Luckily, Beavis knew a quick fix. He stepped back, and with one good kick, he shattered the thin window, revealing the cloudy day outside. He stuck his head out the window and felt a light breeze.
"Breath of fresh air," Beavis said softly, humming. He closed his eyes. "Hmm."
The cool feeling of wind against his face reminded him of a commercial. In the middle of the night, the usual time it played, the woman's calming voice would comfort him as she sang about the joys of air freshener.
FreshBreeze. It's a breath of fresh air.
The smoky smells leaked out of their apartment, and Beavis opened his eyes, looking back into the dreary apartment. They were really nothing but a bunch of lumpy, boring, couch potatoes. As boring as some errands are, at least it got them out of the house for a while. A change of scenery was needed.
"Don't we have more errands to do?" Beavis said, nudging Butt-Head.
Beavis couldn't convince himself that he cared about that, couldn't make it even sound even half genuine.
"Uh, I don't know."
"Eh, me neither."
What Beavis did know was that outside looked nice. With the window now broken, he heard the sirens of ambulances, or police, and the occasional gunshot. Outside was lively, and it sure sounded more interesting than their house with the still-disconnected cable service. They weren't outside people, they didn't venture out like they did before as kids without purpose. Going out was mostly reserved for errands, beer runs, or when it got that boring, dates. Beavis opened the door and stepped outside. It took no more than ninety seconds for Butt-Head to follow him. As if they shared one mind, they both realized something.
"This is our porch, Beavis," Butt-Head said. A lightbulb shone over his head, his eyes popping out. "Why aren't we using it?"
"Whoa," Beavis gasped. He spread his arms out, pacing back and forth. "You're right! We've been cramped inside all this time for no reason. I mean, look at all this space."
"We have been fools. We should move our couch outside."
"That's a good idea." Beavis snapped his fingers in agreement. "You're really smart, Butt-Head."
It wasn't unusual to see people hang out on their "porches". In the small outside hallway of the complex, people would take their lawn chairs or bar stools out for a smoke, or to be nosy at whatever was happening in the parking lot. Minds melded into one, they ran back into the apartment. Beavis grabbed something to prop the door open, and they both raised the couch up with all their strength.
"Alright," Butt-Head said. "Uh, one, two, uh—lift!"
The hibernation-length sleep they'd had re-energized them enough to lift the couch without sweat, no trembling. Squeezing it out of the door, they barely fit it in the outside hallway. If they were going to be couch potatoes for the rest of their lives, they might as well get some fresh air in the process. Getting the couch out wasn't that hard, getting on the couch harder. The outside hallway was narrow, the couch blocked the entrance to their apartment. Another fire hazard. Squeezing himself in the tiny gap between the railing and the couch, Beavis sank down onto the couch.
"Uh," Butt-Head said, preparing to dive on the couch. He walked back to get a good running start. "Here goes nothing, or something."
Beavis jerked back, barely avoiding collision. The couch squeaked as Butt-Head landed right on his ass dent on the couch. The couch was now transformed into a rocking chair on their newly-discovered porch.
"Boy, it sure feels good to get some fresh air." Beavis said, as he took a drag of his vape.
"Yeah." Butt-Head laughed in agreement. He nodded his head, lit a cigarette, and coughed.
The parking lot was their reality show, a live show just waiting for something cool to happen. Beavis leaned forward and adjusted his glasses, getting a better look. Nothing stood out to him. There were some people chilling in their cars, smoking and playing loud music. He nodded his head to the music, it was of their tastes, explicit and unashamedly so. The thumping bass was boosted so high it crackled and distorted the music. A crowd formed, slowly, hanging out and smoking in the parking lot.
"This is boring," Butt-Head said. "These dumbasses are just sitting around and doing nothing."
He looked over his shoulder, tempted to go back inside, to engage in more productive activities such as staring at the ceiling or jerking off in the bathroom. Before Beavis could beg him to give it a chance, the crowd got more rowdy. The laughter of the crowd turned into cursing, and the music amped the crowd up more. Two young men, no older than twenty, started arguing. Beavis distinctly heard the phrase fuck you, and that was all that was needed garner their attention.
"Yes!" Butt-Head exclaimed, pumping his fists. "Kick his ass!"
"Yeah, yeah," Beavis said. "Use your left hook! Or whatever."
In their peanut gallery, they started hollering and raving. The two men weren't even fighting yet, just arguing intensely, faces inches apart. With one hard shove, and a stumble, the crowd gasped and began to encircle the men.
"Hurry up, wuss." Butt-Head hollered as loud as possible, nearly tempted to intervene."Oh, c'mon get on with it already."
The men lunged at each other, making Butt-Head eyes grow wide. He laughed deeply in joy, his laughter increasing with every blow. The fight excited them so much it overwhelmed them, and they dealt with this the best way they knew how. They both bobbed their heads up and down, as if the fight was a rock concert and they were the biggest fans. With his frail arms, Beavis played the best imaginary electric guitar solo of all time. Butt-Head's few thin hairs flew in the wind as continued his aggressive headbanging. So entranced in their excitement, they didn't even notice one of their neighbors arriving, groceries in tow, and dumbfounded.
"What in the—" The neighbor said, dropping his groceries at the sight. The entrance to his apartment was completely blocked by two dumbass neighbors and their worn-out couch.
Butt-Head froze mid headbang, hairs floating in the air, dropping once noticing his neighbor. He scowled.
"You're on private property." Butt-Head said.
"What?" The neighbor said. He had to make sure he heard that one right.
"This is our porch, dumbass."
"No trust-pasting," Beavis said, his voice sounding commanding and official. "Don't make me have to kick your ass."
He stood up, hype from the fighting still going on in the parking lot, fists clenched. The neighbor pinched his forehead and sighed. He spoke bluntly.
"Move this shit and get out of my way."
The neighbor gave them about ten seconds to react. Ignoring Beavis, he grabbed by Butt-Head his shirt, throwing him out of the way. Before Beavis could even attempt to defend himself, he pushed him as well. Pressed against the railing, Beavis landed on Butt-Head as a cushion, the only thing saving him from splattering on the concrete. Before he entered his apartment, the neighbor glared back at them, a final warning.
"Cool." Butt-Head laughed.
Butt-Head rubbed his stinging forehead, and they both sat back on the couch like nothing had happened. The men in the parking lot had disappeared, only small remnants of the crowd remained, the music was turned down. Bassy music was still playing, but the song playing was tamer in its lyrics, matching the subdued atmosphere. Sky gray, and the leftover people in the parking lot gossiped about the fight in its aftermath. A low rumble could be heard as well, the unmistakable sound of Beavis's stomach growling. He rubbed his beer belly.
"I'm kinda hungry, Butt-Head."
The show needed a meal to go with it. Butt-Head got up, attempting to get back into the apartment, only to be blocked by the couch.
"That neighbor dude was right," Butt-Head admitted. "This couch is in the way."
"Huh?" Beavis tilted his head and looked back at the blocked door.
Moving the nuisance out of their sight, they pushed the couch side, sliding it right in front of their neighbor's door. Butt-Head went inside to grab food and beer. Deciding to test his culinary skills, he made a risky decision of making microwave popcorn. He threw the bag in the microwave, unafraid of the fire hazard.
"Hm," Butt-Head rubbed one of his chins in thought. "Uh."
Focused on the number pad on the microwave, it was as complicated as a calculator to him. He pressed a few random numbers and pressed start. The smell of burnt popcorn wafted out of the broken window, right under Beavis's nose.
"Mhm, now that's what I'm talking about," Beavis licked his lips at the smell and chuckled. "Good 'ole home cooking."
Butt-Head walked back out with the burnt popcorn and sat down. Beavis took one last good whiff before shoveling down a handful.
"Thanks, darlin'." Beavis said, his voice muffled as he crunched on charcoal.
Showing his compliment to the chef, he snuck in a quick kiss on Butt-Head's cheek. The popcorn came right on time, too. In the parking lot, a tiny elderly man pulled up in a beaten car with a new large television. Alone, and frail, his legs trembled as he tried to carry the box on his own. The next show was starting.
"That old guy's, like," Beavis wheezed. "Old."
"Yeah," Butt-Head laughed. "He's over the hill."
Butt-Head scooted up closer to get a better look at the pathetic old man. This was one of those slow shows, a late night charity infomercial. The old man needed some encouragement, and Beavis was happy to help. He stood up, still chewing on some burnt popcorn, and called out to the old man.
"Old dude!" Beavis yelled. "Hey, old dude! Put some elbow grease in it! Or something like that."
"He's gonna bust his old ass," Butt-Head envisioned the old man falling in the same manner that Beavis did the other day, chuckling at the thought of history repeating itself. "He's gonna break his hip."
"Cool," Beavis caught himself. "I mean, um, keep tryin', old dude."
The old man couldn't hear them, but he continued to slowly struggle as he dragged the television across the parking lot. He was headed for the stairs, a mountainous task. The old man sat down and wiped sweat off his forehead and sighed as he looked at the staircase. He took his first step.
"Should we, um," Beavis turned to Butt-Head. "Help him?"
"Uh, what? We're already doing that, Beavis. We're motive-voting him."
"Oh yeah. Yeah, yeah we are."
With every weak step the old dude took, they began to cheer him on harder.
"C'mon old dude," They were speaking in unison now. "You got it, dumbass!"
Caught up in their own cheerleading, they paid no mind to the veins on the old man's forehead, the sweat soaking him, and his pleas.
"Any help fellas?" The old man strained, with only a few steps remaining. "Please."
"Almost there," Beavis said. "You can do it, or whatever."
Reminded of the TED talks they watched, Butt-Head rose to his feet and spoke in a wise voice.
"You have to think positive," Butt-Head laughed, but not in a mocking way. He began repeating motivational speech talking points near verbatim. "You must practice positivity, sir."
"Use the force, old dude."
"You must become one with the box. The sky's the limit, sir."
Those nice words were so nice, so enlightening, it pierced the old man's kind soul and freed him from the burden of the television. Taking his next step, he tripped. The box came crashing down with him, only avoiding crashing into him by inches.
"Son of bitch," The old man yelled, exhausted, stinging in pain, smashing his fists into the ground. "Goddamnit!"
Beavis crossed his arms and shook his hands.
"That's messed up," Beavis said. "They make TVs out of cheap garbage now, Butt-Head."
"Flimsy piece of crap," Butt-Head took a drag of his cigarette as the old man continued to whine. No amount of positivity could overcome bad build quality. "Don't make 'em like they used to."
"Sure don't."
The gray sky got grayer, as it settled into late evening. Darker now, the cheap dim lights in the parking lot started to come on. Street lights lit up as well, and few cars pulled into the lot. If something cool was happening, they weren't able to see it. The calmness made Butt-Head start to nod off, a nap calling his name, but Beavis was jittery.
"Is the TV still broken, Butt-Head?" He asked.
Searching for anything to distract him from his growing boredom, Beavis scanned the dark parking lot. He fidgeted his fingers against the cigarette holes in the couch and tapped his feet. Butt-Head sensed his anxious demeanor and went inside.
Years ago, they'd paid some funny-looking dude to help them steal the neighbor's Wi-Fi password and various logins. Like clockwork, their neighbors would change, and the funny-looking dude would come back to help. They'd pay him in beer and attention.
"C'mon already." Butt-Head cursed under his breath and shook the television. He grabbed the remote, turned on the TV, and was warmly greeted by two women slapping the shit out of each other. His luck, they'd saved the best stuff right on time.
"TV's back on," Butt-Head called out. "Neighbor dude finally paid his bill. Broke son of a bitch."
Beavis turned around and looked back at the fully-lit apartment, its light shining out of the broken window against the dark outside. The sound of the crude reality show was like a gentle lullaby. With inhuman strength, he pushed the couch back in the apartment on his own. Now both on the couch, they chuckled softly as the show cut to commercial. The woman's voice was light and airy, she misted air freshener as she sang. He grinned at the familiar voice.
It's a breath of fresh air.
As they relaxed, Butt-Head shut the lights off and turned the lamp on. Through the broken window, outside air leaked in, a light breeze. With their errands completed, and the television revived, the house on Dixon street was alive again.
Everything came back alive. Throughout the night, they watched their favorite shows and ate a variety of snacks, their gourmet dinner. Without care, the floor was littered in crumbs, the perfect buffet for the creatures hiding in the cracks and crevices. Even those creatures that weren't already inside were warmly welcomed, the door was wide open, through the broken window. The rats and roaches cleaned up their mess as they slept.
"Hey, how's it goin'?" Beavis said to the creatures in the house. It was early morning, and he greeted them all kindly and prince-like. He was in the kitchen, making a breakfast of canned nacho cheese and hot chips. The creatures scattered away, as expected, but one rat remained, staring at him unafraid. It looked familiar.
"I got it." Butt-Head said, half-asleep but sensing the threat. He grabbed a broom, which they had the gall to own but never use to clean, its only purpose was a weapon.
"Wait," Beavis jumped in front of the rat, waving his arms signaling Butt-Head to stop, taking the bullet for the creature. "Stop, Butt-Head!"
Butt-Head's reflexes hadn't caught up with Beavis's protests and he swatted him with the broom accidentally. It wasn't gentle, the force caused Beavis to hit the wall, but the rat was protected and that's all that mattered.
"Butt-Head," Beavis pointed at the rat, sitting still on the floor, not flinching from the violent encounter. "We know that rat."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"From when we were kids, Butt-Head. C'mon, just think about it."
"Hm," Butt-Head paused. That was a tall order for him, but it was weird that this rat sat on the floor patiently, staring at him unafraid and in anticipation for him to remember. "Oh yeah, we do."
"After all this time, I'll be damned." Beavis gasped in awe at the rat's resilience. "Er, how long do rats live again?"
"It was pregnant," Butt-Head laughed, he reminisced on the day they met the rat. "It had rat sex."
"Yeah, and it pooped all over the floor, too. Pretty cool." Beavis laughed. "Pretty messed up that it scored before we did, but whatever."
Having a guest over was something new. The place was about as decent as possible for a guest, and Beavis strongly believed in southern hospitality. He poured some liquor in a plastic cup, and fed the rat while they watched television. The show on TV was boring, Beavis paid it no attention, looking intently at the rat instead. He wished he could squeak back to the rat, to talk about the good old days and catch up with what happened over the past twenty-five years.
"This sucks. Change the channel, Butt-Head."
"Uh, no."
"You don't even like this show," Butt-Head was looking at the television but not watching it, he was drooling and daydreaming about his next meal. "Change it."
"I don't care. Don't tell me what to do."
Before the situation could escalate, a four-legged furry white knight came to Beavis's defenses. The rat jumped on the remote, with just enough force to change the channel, and scurried off somewhere else. Butt-Head attempted to get upset, he frowned, but the animals aggressively humping on their television quelled his anger.
"Ah, that's better." Beavis let out a quiet, relaxed chuckle and took a drag of his vape.
"Finally some real TV."
The rat explored their house, ravaging through their mess and eating the inedible as they watched the show in near silence. It really wasn't educational for them, they'd watched enough Animal Planet to last them lifetimes. Comfort TV was all that it was, the mention of sharks made Butt-Head perk up slightly, but overall it was a more exciting white noise than the previous slog they'd been watching. As the hours went by, an offhand comment took them by surprise.
"Now the average lifespan of a brown rat is around two years…"
"Um," Beavis grabbed the remote and rewinded. "What?"
"We've made a mistake, Beavis." Butt-Head said. "That's not the same rat, that rat dude is dead."
"No, no, no," Beavis shook his head furiously. "That can't be right. We know that rat."
"You heard the science dude," Butt-Head cracked open a soda and shrugged. "It's probably, like, pretending to be the rat to take advanced-stage of us, or something."
"Wait," Beavis stood up, he spoke in a wise voice. "It's an or-phone."
"Huh?"
"That's the rat's kid, Butt-Head." Beavis looked around for the rat, who was nowhere in the living room, and called out here boy . The rat scurried up to Beavis, and crawled up his shoulder. "Just look at 'em."
"Hm," Butt-Head shook his head in agreement. "We shall call her Butt-Head Jr."
"Seriously? That's a terrible name."
"No it's not. It kicks ass."
"It's awful. You're going to mess her up for life, Butt-Head. We should name her—" Beavis paused, running through his head list of cool names for chicks. "Mary."
"That's stupid."
With one name stupid, and the other name dumb, they were at a standstill.
"Fetch me a beer, Butt-Head Jr." Butt-Head said, in a kind, fatherly-voice, speaking as if the argument was already settled long ago. The rat did nothing in response.
"See? That name's stupid." Beavis laughed confidently. "Grab me a beer, please, Mary."
The rat would do no such thing. Again, they stood at a standstill, with a rat that took no orders and responded to no name. They respected the rat's rebellious attitude, but it didn't feel right to let the orphaned creature go unnamed. Conflict resolution was done through asskicking or arm-wrestling (which Beavis strangely enough would win, sometimes), but they decided to handle this like mature adults. They needed a breath of fresh air, so they stepped on their porch. Beavis leaned against the railing while Butt-Head grabbed a bar stool to sit on.
"Um, what about Sally?" Beavis said, his voice uncertain. "Wait, are we sure she's a chick?"
"C'mon, Beavis, we can think of something better than that," Butt-Head swiveled the barstool. Beavis was getting off topic, the rat needed a cool name regardless of gender. "Like—"
They both spoke at the same time.
"Erectisha."
"What a beautiful name," Butt-Head said. If he could cry, he'd be wiping tears. "Her mother would be proud."
"It really is," Beavis curled his lips happily. "Boing-oing."
Erectisha was her name, and from there, she was their responsibility. The weight of this responsibility was no laughing matter. To uphold the legacy of their fallen rat friend, they swore to protect Erectisha, a poor orphan in need of guidance.
"You can't drink that, Butt-Head," Beavis said sternly, pointing at Butt-Head's beer. "Not in front of Erectisha."
"Hm?" Butt-Head looked at his beer. Oh yeah . "Uh, this isn't beer, Erectisha. It's, um, wine or something."
"Yeah, definitely not beer," Beavis winked at Butt-Head, in on the lie, and took a sip of his "wine". "We would never. Stay in school and wear a condom, or whatever."
"We're great parents," Butt-Head laughed and lit a cigarette. "We're setting a good example."
"You can't smoke either, Butt-Head, you know better than that. Take that shit—um, crap, out to the porch. C'mon."
Banished to the porch, Butt-Head put his hands on his knees and groaned as he went outside. The cold, hard bar stool was still outside waiting for him, and with as much as Butt-Head smoked, the porch was his new home. Sitting on the bar stool, Butt-Head thought to himself that they clearly needed a second couch. As he smoked, Erectisha ran out the window, and climbed up his shoulder.
"Whoa," Butt-Head said. Shocked by the sudden affection, he dropped his cigarette and picked it back up. "Uh, hey Erectisha. I'm not smoking this is uh—" Butt-Head put the cigarette in his mouth backwards, still lit, eyes screwed shut in pain as he burnt his tongue. "A lollipop."
"Yeah you are, quit lyin'," Beavis called out from the apartment. He got up and walked to the window. "Don't be a dumbass like him, Erectisha."
"At least smoking is cool," Butt-Head spat. "It's better than that vape stuff."
Butt-Head walked up to the window, Erectisha still on his shoulder, and lit another cigarette. He puffed it in Beavis's face and chuckled, Beavis aggressively vaped in response. The battle of the vices, they fought without fists, but their anger was building up. Beavis raised a fist, ready to lunge.
"I'll kick your—" Beavis stopped and looked into Erectisha's innocent beady eyes. What was he doing? This was no way to raise a family. Unclenching his fist, he stuck his hand out for a handshake, a truce. "Let's, er, agree to disagree."
"Uh," Butt-Head shook Beavis's hand mechanically. "Okay."
"Don't do drugs." They both said in unison, looking at Erectisha. She squeaked, scurried off Butt-Head's shoulder, and went back into the apartment, searching for food. Butt-Head finished his cigarette and went inside as well, climbing through the broken window.
"You think we should fix that?" Beavis said.
"Eh, let the maint-nence guy fix it," Butt-Head said. "Landlord dude said he'll give us an erection notice if we keep breaking the window."
"Hrm, really? That's nice of him."
Speaking of erections, now fully satisfied from her scavenge, Erectisha lay nestled in piles of dirty clothes stuffed in their closet. It wasn't a hiding space, she had no reason to hide from her parents. Tired from a day of roaming freely around the house, she rested. Beavis paced around the house looking for her, checking the fridge and under the toilet seat. He wasn't trying to be a helicopter parent, just a bit concerned.
"Um," Beavis lifted up the couch cushion. "Where's Erectisha?"
"I don't know, probably leaving turds somewhere."
"Eh," He noticed the droppings on the ground. "Yeah, that sounds like her."
Around this time of day, they'd usually head out to the liquor store, or find something else to do. Not today. They wouldn't leave without knowing where Erectisha was. Butt-Head got up, pretending to have to go whizz, and searched for her in the bathroom. While he was doing that, Beavis ran off the couch and searched under the bed. He saw a glimpse of what appeared to be a rat, but he knew it wasn't her, she wouldn't run away from him. Beavis went back to the living room.
"Uh." Butt-Head said, now back on the couch, averting his eyes.
"Can't find her, Butt-Head."
Erectisha scuttled out of her safe place, crawling onto the couch, stealing a pizza roll for herself. On her way up to Beavis's shoulder, she smacked the remote with her tail, switching to a random channel. On that channel, a dick pill commercial was playing. She squeaked in Beavis's ear.
Beavis chuckled and rubbed her fur. "That's my girl."
The family enjoyed the rest of their day together, relaxing on the couch and smoking on their porch.