Dummy has a minion!

Tod the Sock Puppet of Rage

The little boy was surprised to see someone else enter the room he was in. Why, he hadn't even heard them walking towards him! Quickly, he ducked behind the drapes, peeking out at the teenage girl as she plopped on the couch and pulled out her phone. The little boy studied her quietly, waiting giddily for her to notice the surprise he had left for everyone, but she was just too distracted by that phone in her hands! Just as the little boy reached out to touch her hair, he heard someone calling to him from the attic.
The little boy hated the attic; it was dark, and dusty, and smelled bad. Not as bad as the basement - and the basement was somewhere the little boy would never, ever go - but it was still bad.
The little boy heard someone calling to him again, and he sulked up the stairs and to the attic, but not before knocking over the teenage girl's water bottle as he passed. When it hit the ground, the teenage girl jerked, and immediately spun to look over the back of the couch, ready to snap at her little brother for being such a little jerk - but he wasn't there. Grumbling about how dumb little brothers are, she picked up the water bottle, put it back in it's place, and settled down into the couch again, her attention already back on the phone.

"You're so much fun!" The young boy said gleefully, a broad grin on his freckled face, his front teeth missing since earlier in the week. The young boy leaned forward and wrapped the little boy in a tight hug, but the little boy couldn't feel the hug like the young boy did. That didn't stop the little boy from trying to return that warm feeling to his friend, though.
Despite being in the attic, the little boy was happy - he was with his good friend, and the two of them would have lots and lots of fun together.

"JAMES MARTIN YOUNG!"
Oh no, that was mom's angry voice.
The Young boy jumped, and looked towards the ladder that led up to the attic. The little boy scooted towards the shadows. Angry stomping could be heard, first across the carpeted living room, then up the wooden stairs, and it only paused when it reached the ladder.
"James, get down here right now."
Mom's voice was still angry, but it didn't have the volume it had when she was downstairs. The Young boy turned to look for the little boy, but the little boy was hiding. Frowning, the Young boy picked up the dusty old dummy he had hugged in his hands and shuffled to the ladder, climbing down so he was in front of his mom.
"Yes, mommy?"
"You get in the living room and you clean up your mess."
"What mess?"
"You know exactly what you did, young man, and you are going to clean it up right now!"
"But momma, I didn't --"
"Right this instant, James!"
Pouting, the Young boy moped down the stairs, his mother following closely behind, and the dummy clunking down the stairs as it was half-carried, half-dragged along with him. The little boy followed as well, though he went unnoticed. In the living room, a rather sloppy picture was colored on the wall in bright red crayon - depicting the teenage girl being eaten by her phone, mom being smothered in an avalanche of clothes, and dad having all his tools thrown at him. Off to the side was the Young boy and his dummy, laughing.
"Mommy, I didn't do this!"
The Young boy insisted earnestly, but his mother was "tired of your excuses, James," and would hear nothing of it. Instead, she handed the Young boy his cleaning supplies.
"Clean this up."
Mom said firmly, turning to return to the laundry room.
"And leave that dirty dummy in the basement where you found him."
The little boy, standing next to the Young boy, frowned.
In the kitchen's refrigerator - the milk curdled.


Story by me (heARSE).


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