milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Something has been playing on Fry's mind for a little while. So he has left a note at the bar.

'To Uncle Gene,
I set my swim hat on fire because it was evil but it made toxic fooms and then a man took it outside and there was a bigger fire and I didn't poison people but he said it could of. Do I need to hand myself in?
Fry'

With that off his chest, he starts doing some homework on the water cycle.

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Muffled sounds rise up from under the table where Fry is sitting. Someone speaks. Someone else makes a noise that sounds like a growl.

The first person says, "There's my special boy!" and then bangs his head on a table leg. "Ow. Daddy's hurt. Gonna die. Remember me fondly. Yeah. Also make sure Number Two gets nothing. He is insolent."

Fry looks under the table, pulling his knees up.

"What are you doing?"

Doctor Evil rolls out from under the table and rubs his head.

"Hiding, obviously. Don't be insolent."

Beat.

"Also looking for a trap door my clone in one-eighth form insists it here."

In the darkness under the table, Mini-Me gives Fry a wide, wide -- no seriously, why is it so wide? -- smile.

Fry looks around to see what this 'solent' is he's supposed to be in.

"I have an eidetic memory and I never noticed a trap door in here before." he says.

He looks at Mini-me and adds.

"Your head isn't an eighth."

"An... evil eidetic memory?"

Doctor Evil quickly covers Mini-Me's ears.

"Ear muffs! Daddy won't let the small human talk to you that way."

The last is said with a frown at Fry.

"How would you like it if I said your hair is silly? No? Yeah, didn't think so."

"I didn't say he was silly, I said his head wasn't an eighth." Fry says. "Like one of the ladies at my summer school who has dwarfism."

"Yes, I knooooow," he drawls. "But you might as well have. He's my Mini-Me. Perfect in every way. Yeah. Like Mary Poppins."

Beat.

"What are you doing?"

The Littlest Loompa preens under the praise, even as he keeps a wary eye on the child.
He remembers the children from the factory. They were horrid.

"I am filling in a diagram on the water cycle." Fry says.

He frowns slightly. "He doesn't look like Mary Poppins, he looks like an Oompa Loompa." He smiles a little then and waves at the Littlest Loompa.

Doctor Evil frowns back.

"You're very literal. Yeah. Do you think I mean it literal-ly every time I threaten to dip a minion in hot magma? No. No I do not. I only mean it most of the time." He nods. "Dipping people in mag-ma is tiring."

He smiles toothily at Mini-Me.

He's been practicing.

"Mini-Me knows about water cycles. Don't you, Daddy's favorite boy? Didn't you just show me how to crawl through a large pipe?"

The Little Guy nods enthusiastically, always keeping the child in his periphery.

He most certainly does not wave back.

Fry considers this.

"When it's outside the surface, magma is called lava." he says helpfully.

Okay.

That was definitely insolent.

"Magma is more e-vil. Yeah. Look it up, smarty pants."

Doctor Evil glances at Mini-Me, then back at Fry.

"Are you... an evil smarty pants?"

He really wants this point clarified.

Is...is Doctor Evil really thinking about recruiting this...this...child?
The Little Guy is dubious, but not entirely against the idea.
He knows first hand how evil children can be.

"My mum says there's no such thing as good and evil people." Fry says, after considering it for a moment. "Only people who do good and evil things. I try and do good things."

Doctor Evil rears back in horror.

"As if," he drawls, not quite managing to sound like Cher from Clueless. "Don't try and tell me how to be my best evil self, little human. Yeah. That's not polite. I assure you I am..."

One eyebrow goes up.

"...Bad to the blood."

Beat.

"No? That's not how it goes? Bad to the marrow? The central nervous system? Still nothing?

"Evil to the eye socket? No? Oh, well. I don't do songs. Honestly, you're just like Scott. Yeah. Not a good comparison." He thrusts out his chin. "My evil clone and I have to gooooo now. Yeah. Very urgent evil business."

He backs away slowly, doing the universal gesture for I'm keeping my probably maybe super evil eye on you, and skips off.

The Little Guy is...confused.
Children can't be good as a rule.
But this one says he is.

The briefest flash of existential dread crosses his little orange face.
What if what this little human says is true.
That there isn't evil or good just actions.
What if everything he's always been told is a lie.

WHAT IF.

...

Wait, it's a child saying this.
Children lie.
Oh. Phew. For a second there he thought he might have to rethink his entire world view.
But instead he just merely backs away from the boy, contempt flashing in his little green eyes.

Fry watches them go. Then, for reasons he's not quite sure of, finds himself singing:

"Oompa loompa doompety doo
I've got a little puzzle for you
Oompa loompa doompety dee
If you are wise you'll listen to me

What do you do if you follow Bald-Head
Did mummy tell you you're easily led?
What do you do if you're bad to the blood
Then you find out that you did some good?
Does it mess you up a bit?

Oompa Loompa doopetty da
If you're not evil you will go far
You will live in happiness too
Like the oompa loompa doopetty doo!"

During the song, a tracksuit-clad gang appears.

"Follow bald-head, bro?"

"You see him, bro?

"Where he go, bro?"

Fry looks up at them.

"Are you what oompa loompas grow into?" he asks.

"What he say, bro?"

"Umpa lumpa, bro."

"What umpa lumpa, bro?"

The mob is perplexed.

"I'm not your brother." Fry says, looking equally confused.

"No, bro, you not brother, bro."

"Too small, bro."

"Bro! His brother big bro!"

"Drink lots vodka, bro!"

That's how you grow up big and strong, kid!

"What's vodka?"

"Is best drink, bro!"

"Try some, bro!"

A bottle appears from... somewhere and is thrust in Fry's direction.

Edited 2015-10-06 16:05 (UTC)

Fry recoils.

"I don't take drinks from strangers. You might have licked it."

"Okay, bro."

"Bro, more for us! Ha ha."

They pass the bottle around.

"Now, bro. Tell us, bro."

"You see gray man, bro?"

"No he was bald." Fry says.

He gets out a notebook and starts making notes about the bros on a page entitled 'Suspicious people'

"Yes, bald bro, bro."

"He gone, bro?"

"Where he go, bro?"

"He crawled under the table." Fry says. "With the Oompa Loompa."

"Bro. Table."

The table and chairs are swiftly pulled out of the way.

"Nobody there, bro."

"You lie to us, bro?"

"I never lie. He kept going that way under the tables."

"Nobody there, bro."

Yeah, someone said that already."

"Downstairs, bro?"

"Stairs that way, bro."

"There's a downstairs?"

"Stairs go down, bro."

"We go down, bro."

They depart, as abruptly as they arrived.

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