NOTE: THIS STORY IS A DUBIOUSLY-CANON SEQUEL TO DERPY DAYCARE, IT’S NOT REQUIRED THAT YOU READ IT BUT I RECOMMEND IT, READ HERE
Not Again
By Za
New Jersey’s suburbs were quiet this time of year. It was a brisk autumn evening and Mitchell Pearson had just returned home from work. He’d been working for the same auto shop for about four years, after discovering his passion for cars. He’d never really had the chance to sit down and work on the one his father gave him, considering they only rarely saw eye-to-eye. He wondered what the old bastard was doing right now. Not enough to break his six years of silence, though. He hadn’t spoken to either of his parents since about a month after his outburst at Juniper’s Daycare.
He slammed the door to his car, peering around the side of his happy little home to see what was going on in the backyard. It was a nice little yard, fenced in with plenty of room for Juniper to do her gardening and for their daughter to run around and play. Just beyond the tree, he noticed a small break in a few of the boards of their picket fence. He’d need to fix that some time this weekend. Honestly, he probably needed to have the whole fence replaced. The place was a bit of a fixer-upper, but it was home.
Lollipop was waiting for him at the door.
“Daddeh home!” the cherubic little fluffy cooed as Mitchell entered. He stooped down to tousle the fluffy’s frizzy white mane. He’d grown to love the little bastard after a while. He was getting up there in age, turning seven in a month or two. It made Mitchell wonder how Juniper would take the fluffy’s passing, considering how badly it hurt them both to lose Peppermint only a year after the daycare incident. Mitchell snapped back to the current moment. Those were problems for an older, wiser Mitchell. Today was done and it was time to see his wife, play with his daughter, and have a beer.
You know. The essentials.
“Honey, I’m home!” he called into the house.
“Honey, I’m home!” responded a mocking voice from elsewhere in the house. “You’re such a dork, Mitchell. They should’ve named you Dorky Dorkson.”
Mitchel snickered, walking towards the bedroom. He tossed his oil-stained coveralls into the hamper, emerging from the bedroom in a Motörhead shirt and jeans. Back in his element.
“Whatever you say, Mrs. Dorkson,” he replied through a grin. Lollipop hopped up on Mitchell’s leg, giving it a hug.
“Wowwipop miss daddeh Mitcheww! Can pway nao?”
He scooped the fluffy up in his arms, carrying him back to the living room.
“We’ll play after dinner, alright little man?”
“Otay! Wowwipop wub ou!”
Mitchell hugged him before putting him back down on the carpeted living room floor to scuttle away.
Mitchell stepped into the kitchen and was promptly tackled into a hug by two sets of arms. He stumbled, catching himself against the wall.
“Jeez! You two are gonna friggin kill me one of these days!”
Juniper kissed him on the cheek as he lifted Lucy into his arms.
“Yeah,” Juniper said, “for the life insurance money. Don’t look at me, it was her idea.”
Lucy grinned sweetly, which basically absolved her of any guilt. That, and the fact that she wasn’t even three yet. She wasn’t quite ready for an elaborate murder plot yet.
Mitchell’s eyes looked over Juniper, who was still in her work clothes. She looked basically the same as she did six years ago. Same sweater, same lab coat, same dorky grin. She did look a little older though, being 27 now, but he kinda liked it. He’d always wanted to be a MILF hunter, but he settled down with Juniper before he got that opportunity. 24 and 27 was close enough to MILF hunting, right?
“You’re still in your work clothes?” he asked, lifting Lucy onto his shoulders. She babbled some attempt at a sentence, holding tight to his shoulders.
“Yeah,” Juniper shrugged, “I was about to take her out to play.”
“Go on, get comfortable. I’ll watch her until then.”
Juniper grinned, heading off to change. Mitchell set off out the back door with Lucy. The backyard was the family’s favorite place to be. A fire pit sat on the far side, with a swing set nearer to the house. There was, of course, a fluffy-shaped seat for Lollipop. Lucy, however, took off toddling towards the sandbox near the corner of the yard.
“Alright, sandbox it is. I’ll go get your toys.”
Mitchell stepped back inside, running to grab Lucy’s sandbox toys from their shelf in the laundry room. Buckets, shovels, all the fun stuff.
It all just hit him at once. How lucky was he? He had an enjoyable job, a loving wife, an incredible daughter. Mitchell had it made. He’d broken the cycle of abuse he was born into, like he’d always dreamed he would. He’d never hurt his daughter, and if anyone else tried they would pay dearly.
Something about today was special, he thought, staring out the window at the evening sun. Today was a beautiful day.
He scooped the toys up into his arms and started back outside. As he did, the bloodcurdling sound of a scream filled his ears. Lucy’s screams.
He swung the door open, throwing the playthings to the floor as he charged into the backyard. Curled up in the corner was Lucy, being beaten on by a stocky earthie fluffy.
“Dummeh hooman babbeh! Dis am Cwetus wand nao! Take wowstest sowwy hoofies!”
Mitchell ran over, pushing the fluffy over and scooping Lucy into his arms. He bolted back towards the house, through the still-open door and into the bedroom where Juniper was still getting changed.
“Mitchell, wh-”
“Some bastard fluffy got into the yard. You’re better at this doctory stuff than me, can you make sure she’s okay?”
Lucy, all the while, was crying and clinging to her papa, who clung back to her.
“It’s okay honey, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Juniper rushed over, taking Lucy into her arms.
“Mama’s got you, mama’s got you.”
From somewhere outside, Mitchell heard the fluffy call again.
“Dummeh hoomans! Gu way from Cwetus wand ow get wowstest huwties!”
Mitchell leapt up, marching back into the living room. The fluffy had clambered its way up the back steps and into the house, where it had shit on the floor.
“Cwetus say- ACK!”
Mitchell grabbed the fluffy by the throat, throwing it forward out the back door. Its back end hit the railing of the deck, sending it into a tailspin towards the ground below. Mitchell hopped the railing, still charging forward. He grabbed the fluffy by its back legs and marched it towards the swing set.
“DUMMEH, CWETUS GON-”
The rest of whatever Cletus had to say was drowned out by the sound of his spine breaking as he was swung into the metal supports of the swing set. Not missing a beat, Mitchell twisted back and threw him. He smashed into the fence where he’d broken in, smacking to the ground.
“CWETUS… w-weggies? DUMMEH WEGGIES WOWK NAO!”
Mitchell dug his nails into the fluffy’s throat, lifting it again and leaping forward to choke-slam it through the broken section of fence. The fence, or at least that section of it, shattered into individual boards and fell apart. Mitchell dropped the fluffy, who was now gasping and panting, seemingly unable or unwilling to speak. Mitchell grabbed a piece of the fence, pointed at the top as picket fences tend to be, and slammed it down, skewering Cletus through his stomach and splattering whatever organs lay beneath. Cletus sputtered blood out of both ends, kicking his legs weakly before succumbing.
Mitchell slowly began trudging back up the yard towards his house. He wiped his forehead, wet from either blood or sweat or perhaps both. He swore he could hear someone call his name over the pounding of his heart in his ears. He climbed up the stairs to the deck, his hands leaving bloody prints along the railing. He peeked in the back door to see his wife and daughter staring at him in abject terror.
Lucy began to cry again.
Juniper’s face simply sank.
“Oh, Mitchell…” she sighed, looking up at him weakly.
“Not again.”