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"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Hope Annabelle Freeman is crying.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

She's been crying for the past half-hour or more.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

She's not hungry, or sleepy, or in need of a burp or a diaper change.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Her mother and father have tried everything they can think of to calm her down, with no result.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

For the love of God, somebody help shut this damn baby up.

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Voodoo was plodding along to the firing range, combat gear and all -

- when he came upon this.

He looks at Hope.

Then at Alyx.

"You need help?"

"Yes," she says vehemently.

Well, here goes nothing.

He sets his M60 down, picks Hope up, and holds her against his chest as he rocks back and forth.

"Shhh, shhh, shhh - it's okay now. It's okay."

Then, because it can't hurt:

Would you like to swing on a star
carry moonbeams home in a jar...

It's a song Alyx has heard before, but she wasn't expecting to hear it from Voodoo, of all people. Cue the raised eyebrow.

Explanations later. Baby calming now.

and be better off than you are
or would you rather be a mule?

A mule is an animal with long, funny ears
Kicks up at anything he hears
His back is brawny and his brain is weak
He's just plain stupid with a stubborn streak
So if you hate to go to school
you may grow up to be a mule...

Hope's still crying, but it seems a little quieter now.

Progress!

Oh would you like to swing on a star?
Carry moonbeams home in a jar?
And be better off than you are?
Or would you rather be a pig?

A pig is an animal with dirt on his face
His shoes are a terrible disgrace
He's got no manners when he eats his food
He's fat and lazy and extremely rude
But if you don't care a feather or a fig
You may grow up to be a pig...

Alyx starts singing along, with a feeble attempt at harmony.

"Oh would you like to swing on a star?
Carry moonbeams home in a jar?
And be better off than you are?..."

Harmony! Voodoo can work with this.

"...or would you rather be a fish?

A fish won't do anything but swim in a brook
He can't write his name or read a book
To fool all the people is his only thought
Though he's slippery, he still gets caught..."

"...But then if that sort of life is what you wish
You might grow up to be a fish

And all the monkeys aren't in a zoo
Every day you meet quite a few..."

"...So you see, it's all up to you
You can be better than you are..."

"...you can be swingin' on a star!"

Voodoo checks on Hope.

She's quiet. (Success.)

He holds her out to Alyx.

"That worked."

Alyx takes Hope back in her arms. "You," she says vehemently to Voodoo, "are a miracle worker."

~~(Feed his ego more, why don't you.)~~

One corner of Voodoo's mouth twitches upward in a half-smile. "I got experience. Mostly with my kid brothers. Some with Colleen's kid. But mostly with my kid brothers." He nods to Hope. "That number worked on most of them."

"I don't suppose I could get you to record yourself singing that so I don't have to come in here every time the twins get cranky?"

"Well, with a voice like this, I don't usually do stuff like that for less than a couple grand, but I suppose I could do something gratis..."

"I'll get some recording equipment and we'll work something out," Alyx promises. "In the meantime, I should get this little one back to bed."

Voodoo shrugs. "I ain't goin' anywhere."

The crying - the CRYYING oh man the flashbacks

Zip. ZOOM! And she's singing a lullaby.

"Little Hope, please cease
Your mamma wants some peace.
And when you grow up you can eat...meese?"

She rubs her chin.

"...I guess there aren't a lot of words that rhyme with 'peace'."

...Maybe? Yes? HOPEFUL HUGE PONY EYES...

Alas, all that gets is more crying from the baby and an utterly bewildered look from the mother.

Awww. "Aww, that usually works." She peers at the baby. "Is she tired? Stinky? Fussy?" She peers extra-hard at the baby. It has to be SOMETHING, and after what she went through foalsitting for the Cakes she's determined to help SOMEPONY today.

"I don't know, she's been crying for half an hour and nothing seems to help..."

"Hmmm...." Pinkie scratches her chin. "Mayybe if you let me hold her?"

(Cue Alyx's life flashing before her eyes)

Actually, cue Alyx grimacing as she weighs the relative merits of letting her child continue to cry versus handing her over to the crazy pink horse-girl.

This only encourages Pinkie to widen her eyes even more. "Pleeeeease?"

"Well..."

"I'll sit right here and I won't move even a teensy weensy bit!" She plops down on her rump. "See? I'll be right here!"

"...well, okay." Alyx holds out the screaming baby. "But I've got my eye on you."

"Whoo-hoo!" Pinkie whispers, then, with great reverence, holds out her forelegs for Alyx to place Hope in her grip.

Alyx very carefully places Hope in Pinkie's... arms? Forelegs? Whatever.

And then Pinkie looks down at the baby and lets out a tiny sound of awe. "Aren't you a cutie wootie?" she asks, her voice modulating into a soft singsong tune about "cutie wootie baby Hope" while she rocks her.

Cutie Wootie Baby Hope keeps right on crying.

"She's really loud!" Please note, Alyx, that Pinkie's tone is totally approving. "Hmmmm!" She tries a few silly faces before gently raising Hope toward her shoulder and giving her one firm pat. Maybe a burp is in order?

Hope cries harder.

"I tried that already," says Alyx. "Half an hour ago."

"Hmmm..." goes Pinkie.

"Hmmmm....Then there's only ONE solution!"

Pinkie reaches up into her mane and pulls out a little green alligator. Tossing a ball to him with her free hoof, she calls, "play seal, Gummy!"

The alligator just kind of sits there, and the ball bounces off his snout. But maybe he's distracting enough for Hope?

Edited (spelling fail) 2012-09-05 06:44 (UTC)

...well, you've definitely got her mom's attention, at least.

Gummy looks back - more truthfully, right through - Alyx, his toothless jaws snapping closed over one of the balls Pinkie tosses his way.

Pinkie smiles triumphantly at the baby. "Now, Hopesy, be nice to your mommy, or Auntie Pinkie's gonna have to start playing you her polka-folk records!"

"...your what now?"

"Polka folk!" she nods solemnly. "Reallly serious music - with accordions!"

"...not all folk music is serous," Alyx points out.

Because what the hell else do you say to that?

"SOMETIMES," she agrees readily enough. "But most folk songs don't have a tuba!"

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