None the Worse ✓

3) 'The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow' And Other Lies Showtunes Tell You

Before anyone could reply, Tai-mon was already chewing on a slice of bread. Dry. Maybe he was more of a stray dog than the family had given him credit for. "He should offer it to us, apparently," noticed Benjamin's father. Ben concurred. At this rate, he wouldn't have to imagine that dragon with polka-dotted underwear anymore; it'd become tangible, and it was eating like a pig. He, not it. Ben's parents stared at him the way they'd stare at the animals in the zoo,.

'Don't feed the lions!' said the sign. They'd thrown nuts at them, anyway. Maybe this was karma. All of a sudden, Benjamin felt incredibly tempted to ask Thigh-man if he liked polka-dot underwear.

"Do y—" he bit his lip. No. Even with his judgment half-dogged by sleep he knew asking questions of the sort to a delinquent would invariably end up with a punch. Something like that. Something painful.

Toy-man glanced at him from the corner of his eyes. "Do you what?" he asked.

Benjamin tried, in vain, to think up something amusing. "Do you..." he trailed off. How to finish? "Uh. Could you serve me some coffee, please?"

He should've asked about the stupid polka dots. Might as well been less idiotic than asking a delinquent to—

Thigh-man handed him the cup of coffee.

Ben blinked, surprised. "Thanks," he mumbled, taking it. Either Dutch Boy did not listen or didn't care, for he simply went back to his business. Benjamin regretted not asking for sugar.

He didn't want to make an even bigger fool of himself, so he decided to just drink the coffee without sugar, but immediately felt bitter about it (no pun intended— or yes, pun intended). He resisted the urge to spit the liquid back into his cup and forced himself to swallow it.

"Want some sugar, Bennie?" Tai-mon asked, smirking again. Benjamin's face immediately contracted into a glare at the nickname.

"No," he replied in a steadfast tone, determined not to let the delinquent win, and took another sip. This time, he managed to maintain his poker-face. Give or take. His cheeks had become hot enough to fry an egg on.

"So," rasped out Benjamin's father to break the tension, "you'll be going to school here today, Thigh-men. How do you feel about that?"

He shrugged, biting off another piece of his bread. Benjamin figured the bread must have been a huge modification for someone who were used to chewing baby birds for breakfast.

Brushing off her thighs despite them being squeaky clean, Benjamin's mother got up. "Well, boys," she said in a silvery voice. "We'll be taking off in about twenty minutes."

Right. As if forcing down the Devil's own beverage and picturing bird heads being ripped off hadn't been bad enough, the absolute most dreaded event just had to come. School.

School itself, Benjamin had no problem with; it was pleasant, even. Having to accompany someone who will break more glasses than an opera singer wasn't. He worried how Dutch boy would react to the school. So far he had only seen the exterior, which didn't do it justice. The school was... resplendent, to say the least. And while someone like Benjamin went easily with its motif, it wasn't suitable for everyone.

Heaven knew what Dutch boy would do if he didn't find it pleasing. And judging by smug smirking, dirty clothes and the mere fact that he had been assigned to this school program in the first place, he definitely wouldn't.

Exactly forty-four minutes and five seconds later, he proved his hypothesis correct.

His parents basically shoved them out the car and left, with only the generic 'you'll do good/be nice/please don't try to swallow rats again (it makes sense in context)' speech to wash down the fact they'd pretty much abandoned them. Or, well, Benjamin. He could understand them getting intimidated by Dutch Boy, but jeez. That, or they didn't want to be seen with a delinquent...