2.5 The Night is Dark and Full of Terrors

Sick of me bombarding you with updates? TOO BAD, HERE’S ANOTHER ONE.

I should get an award for this kind of hardcore hermit lifestyle dedication.

Last chapter, proactivity was the name of the game (if it were actually a word, that is). The rest of our spares moved out (and into the home of a happily married couple) and Razabella (lousiest ship name ever?) tied the knot. Then, Ara went into fierce combat with childbirth and popped out the first kid of Generation Three.

Can we keep up the momentum? Read on and find out.

Let’s kick things off with inspiring screenshot, courtesy of Grey Wind:

In the Langurd household, one can find peace in the most unexpected of places.

Tewl: Who dun dis?

Grey Wind: It was I, Master.

Tewl: …Good boy.

The woes of having a front porch: the pet gets praised for “peeing outside” but we still have to mop it up. –.-

Tewl: Hey gurl. You gonna grow up ta be a real babe someday, an’ when ya do, jus’ remember — ain’t nobody worth shit unless dey can spare five bucks an’ a quickie.

How very sweet that Tewl got to exert his scumbag influence on one more generation. Considering he took forever to have kids of his own, I wasn’t sure if it would ever happen. Unfortunately, he’s getting a complex now and has rolled the wish to have five of these little grandwhelps. And he’s well on his way, seeing as his copious offspring are busy taking over the town. Here’s a brief summary:

1. Cesar and Sandi had their first son, Anwar, right before our spares started raining down on their cozy family. I wish them much luck raising a newborn in that environment.

2. We got this notice shortly after Keg moved out:

The kid (Rafael) was born about the same time as Katana. So much for “pretending,” but I’ll bet Star still denies the legitimacy of their relationship.

3. Surprise, surprise — Cleo got knocked up by Ripper. That’s a pretty hard blow for Keg so soon after his mental breakdown.

Fun fact: That makes three of Christopher’s kids so far who’ve mated with Tewlspawn — and two of them autonomously, too. Little Shon is a wildcard at this stage, being a toddler and all. I expect his mother has been warned and will keep him away from Langurds at all costs.

Hey everybody, it’s Sexually Harass Arabella Day! In celebration, a few screenshots of some creepy individuals being way too forward with our babymaker.

Paparazzi Dolt: Hey purty thang, I been watchin’ you through the window aaaallll day…

Arabella: Retreat, swine, or I will have your ears burned off with a flat iron.

He literally cornered her. That is some scary shit. :O

Offender #2 was none other than our very own founder.

Tewl: Hey gurl, betchoo wanna taste of da tree now dat you bitten da apple, huh?

Ara: I — I don’t even know what to make of that mental image. Please extract yourself from my presence now.

Look at his face. He’s doesn’t even care anymore; he’s just doing it to be a dipshit.

By the end of it all, Ara felt so violated that she wouldn’t even let her own husband touch her.

Razor: So my father is going to die soon and he wants another grandchild—

Ara: Ugh, you Langurd men sure know how to take a woman out of the mood!

But he buttered her up just in time to corrupt our young direwolf’s innocence.

But sadly, not in time to grant Tewl his dying wish. 😦

Tewl: Sweet, did I get dat unicorn blessin’ again?

Reaper’s Disembodied Voice: This is the end, Tewl.

Tewl: Aww shit.

Tewl: Yo man, le’ss you an’ me make a deal. Take me to a beach full of smokin’ babes an’ I’ll let yew keep yer life. Sound good?

Death: Um, no. It’s straight to the fiery pits with you.

Tewl: Wha’?

Death: You give me that pretty daughter-in-law though and I’ll pull some strings. Maybe get you a spot outside the gates. Partial view.

Tewl: I can live wif dat.

Death: Live, Mr. Langurd? You may want to rethink your choice of words. *evil laugh*

And that was how Arabella was promised to the Grim Reaper in marriage.

Her husband was in no position to stop the transaction. He completely missed the event, as he was too busy MASTERING THE MARTIAL ARTS SKILL. BAM.

But it wasn’t long until he was tipped off by a sudden drop in atmospheric douchebaggery.

Razor: No, I am tipped off by the gaping void in my chest.

I guess death really does make everyone a hero, huh? In fact, I’m thinking about making this Tewl’s theme song:

Pay particular attention to 1:05. 😉

And just like that the Graveyard of Founders was complete because, if I have my chronology straight, Chris died a couple of hours later. Clearly, he just couldn’t live without his bro.

Tewl’s grave is on the far left, next to Morgana’s. Our founder left us on a Tuesday (I think) in Week 11 after living to be about 99. Over the course of his life, he was surprisingly productive. I mean for starters, he got this whole goddamn legacy on its feet. Stunted, blundering, and completely crippled they may be, but they are feet nonetheless. He also fathered ten children and gained skills in four different areas (would you believe he reached halfway in cooking and I had nothing to do with it?). He also earned himself 112,553 lifetime happiness points and a longstanding Dirtbag reputation. His epigraph reads “Douchebag of all douchebags.”

Do I have to say it? Fine.

We’ll kinda, sorta, maybe possibly miss you a little bit, you old scoundrel.

And then there were three. OMG, the bliss.

For a good twenty-four hours, everyone was profoundly affected by the loss of their founding father.

Grey Wind: WHERE IS TEWL. NOBODY IS FEEDING ME.

Razor: Great. The fool adopted a needy animal then went off and died.

There’s the sonly attitude we know so well.

But his seed continued to spread like the plague. Well, not “like” the plague. With Tewl, it pretty much is the plague.

Cleo had her baby, a girl named Julie, a little while after this picture was taken. Grandkid #4.

And on a trip to I-don’t-know where, Razor discovered that Tewl’s daughter Sharonda was pregnant as well.

Razor: There’s no easy way to say this, but well — our father is dead.

Sharonda: *blank stare* I wonder what Randy’s making for dinner…

That happens to be Randy Alto-Nance (now Gewf-Nance) a.k.a. the son of Holly and Pruney Old Guy. I can hear a Disney song playing — something about a small world? I don’t know.

And look, Arabella’s in her maternity pyjamas again!

Ara: Isn’t that just splendid. We’re having enough trouble with just this one.

Razor: Who knew anybody could wail for twelve consecutive hours?

Yeah, Katana is a bit of a nightmare baby already. I’m sure her bars aren’t going down any faster than the average infant’s, but it seems like she’s waking her parents every five seconds with her wailings of hunger, loneliness, and poop.

But there are some tender moments in there as well.

Ara: I’m only smiling because this atrocious baby stage is finally at an end.

Oh yeah, let’s bring in the Terrible Twos with balloons and confetti!

Katana: NO. I HATE BAWOONS AND CONFETTI.

Yes, she’s quite the little terror.

As for her newly acquired individuality… Let’s have a collective sigh at the return of the black hair. I have NO idea where the yellow eyes came from though. Everybody in the family tree has either blue or bluish purple (because apparently we spit on genetic variety around here) so it has to be a mutation. HOLYSHITXMEN.

And now for group training time! The battle is on: Team Learn to Walk vs. Team Roll Over.

Ara: That’s it, dear, just a few steps forward.

Razor: Good doggy!

Er, did I caption that right?

Ghost-Christopher soon became a permanent fixture around the house. And if you look out the window at all that daylight, you’ll know I mean permanent.

Chris: So, Arabella, how’s life in the nuthouse?

Ara: Father, I’m tired and pregnant and you are hogging my bed.

Chris: You don’t know the meaning of tired until you’ve worked seventy years as a dishwasher, sonny boy. Go make yourself useful.

Ara took that bigoted advice to heart and got back to work on her writing. She spent the majority of her second pregnancy penning “Famous Last Turds.”

Ara: Not to alarm you, but I heard something tear inside of me with the intensity of a small explosion.

Razor: That’s nice.

Ara: Well? Are you going to “flip your shit” as they say and take me to the hospital?

Razor: No, I’m going to miss the birth of my second child in order to dodge babysitter fees. It’s family tradition, you know.

No sarcasm. But Ara was quite fine getting there on her own and emerged a few hours later with Burrito #2!

This little guy is called Tomahawk because I couldn’t stop at just one weapon name. He is Athletic and Easily Impressed, and his favourites are blue, R&B, and tri-tip tofu steak. I love how he’s a baby and already knows he prefers tofu over the real deal.

Tomahawk is a Virgo and was born at 6:25am on a Friday and blah blah blah, who really cares about that stuff when the kid’s name is Tomahawk, for god’s sake.

Maybe we could have sent Razor along after all because Katana seems to have found her own babysitter!

Grey Wind: This is my new master. She makes me feel like a real direwolf.

Katana: Weal diowolfs wip out men’s fwoats! Heeheehee!

This screenshot legitimately frightens me.

Katana: I hate you, Daddy! I want Doggy NOW!

Razor: Sorry, kid. Doggy is busy having a seizure.

Actually, he’s just looking for a belly rub from a stingy Arabella. Katana might have command over his savaging abilities, but he picked Arabella as his new BFF. So there.

Grey Wind: I wuuuvvvv you!

Ara: And I love watching you writhe on the floor.

Katana: What is dat?

Razor: Your little brother, sweetheart.

Katana: It’s ugly. Can I feed it to my wolfie?

Razor: God, I can’t do this anymore. I wish I were in China.

Hey, don’t say I never did anything for you guys!

Ara: FREEEEEDOOMMMMMM!

Good call on actually wearing clothes, lady.

The trip came with a not-so-hidden agenda, being that I am obsessed with Razor’s martial arts gear and had to see it on him in an authentic setting.

But also he has like a bajillion sparring matches to win, and I thought hey, no better time to start than when your kids are at their most vulnerable developmental stage.

I didn’t bother writing down his opponents’ names, so they’re getting new ones for the purpose of these captions.

Razor: Put ‘em up, wise guy!

Braided Beast: *grunts*

Razor: Bet I fooled you there, didn’t I? Bet you thought I was some sort of fake? Well, prepare to be decimated for I AM THE SON OF THE NIGHT.

Razor: AND NONE SHALL STAND IN MY WAY.

Razor: You are standing in my way, punk.

Dorkface: That’s the point, you idiot.

Well, that four-eyed teenybopper actually dealt Razor his first loss of the day, and so he retreated into the cushy walls of base camp and recharged his dignity in the arms of his gorgeous wife.

Arabella: My fierce king! I earned my yellow belt today. Shall we celebrate with a re-enactment of Hamlet before the Terracotta Army?

Razor: I have a better idea. Why don’t we get rid of that belt of yours?

Arabella: Why? Are you so threatened by a woman moving up your ranks?

Razor: *sigh* You really are your mother’s daughter. Let’s just go upstairs, okay?

Razor: I was thinking… want to make another warrior kid?

Ara: Well, I do like the sound of that.

Was there a lullaby? We’ll just wait and see. 😉

Razor was right back at it the next morning with this chinless wonder.

Razor: I see someone has already taken the liberty of smashing your face in. Please thank them for me.

Chunky McChopstick: Ugh, you complete TOOL!

Razor: What? WHAT did you just call me?

Of course he whooped her ass for opening that wound.

Razor was forced to face the Beast again, but on the bright side he got all kinds of female attention while doing it.

Razor: Oh dear. I can see you’ve grown so much stronger since we last met.

Beast: *conceited grunt*

Razor: But not actually. Watch as I explode in your face.

Beast: Ungh?

Razor: YEAHHH.

He also got to give Dorkface his just desserts.

Dorkface: Oh no, not the Deadly Mantis of Doom!

Razor: Hissssssssssss!

That’s about all the excitement I can muster over one China trip, so let’s jump to their return home. They were greeted (or threatened?) by the Ceramic Brigade, who had added a new freezer bunny to their ranks. He was subsequently dubbed Florik.

Baz: Why’s Penelop crying?

George: CUZ HE JUST GOT DUNKED ON

God, I spend way too much time on YouTube.

The town’s authorities decided that Grey Wind was not fit to look after the children, so they sent a reject from the Babysitters’ Club instead.

Patricia (because let’s face it, there should have been a Patricia in the Babysitters’ Club): This is it, my big break. Kristy will have to let me join after this, even if I did run over her cousin that one time.

Sadly, she was subjected to Razor’s residual battle fever and my own sick sense of humour (the “Fire” button was so shiny and tempting).

Razor: I told you not to feed them after midnight! Argh!

Patricia: Oh no! Now I will never have bake sales and sleepovers with Mary Anne and the gang! *runs off sobbing to become a punk rocker and raging alcoholic*

Razor: I’m sorry about that lousy sitter, baby.

Katana: That’s okay, Daddy. I bit her eighteen times!

Razor: …We need to find you a hobby.

We all knew this was coming.

However, nobody could have anticipated that the Hot Repairladies Club would broaden their candidate requirements to this point.

Baldy: Everything appears to be in order. *leaves without fixing anything*

Take that, gender stereotypes.

And this… I could not have predicted this at all. 😉

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I’m getting too lazy for these chapter wrap-ups. But thanks for reading!

-Sam