[: mcyt angst :] - DISCONTINUED -

chapter 16: home alone

~ { 3rd Person POV } ~

It was 8 in the morning. Philza Minecraft and two of his younger sons were going shopping together.

"Wait- Where's Techno?" Tommy asked, "Is he still sleeping?" The younger looked around.

"No way he's still sleeping," Wilbur scoffed, rolling his eyes skeptically. All of the family knew that Techno was very punctual and woke up early to do work and training. The fact that he should've woken up 2 hours ago but was still lying comfortably under his sheets was suspicious.

"Yeah well... I'm sure that if he's still sleeping right now, he'll still be asleep by the time we get home," Phil suggested. "We'll only take like 30 minutes-" "TO THE STORE! VIVA LA COMIDA, BITCH!" Tommy threw his hands up and accidentally (or not?) slapped Wilbur in the face.

"OW! WHAT THE FUCK, TOMMY? Oh, come here, GREMLIN!" Wilbur declared war and Phil broke them apart quickly before they woke Techno up. Also for the sake of his own sanity. He was suffering quite a bit from being the father of a 7 year old, 14 year old, and 17 year old boy and having all of them been adopted. Everyone assumed that they were just friends because they looked and were nothing alike. Nonetheless, Phil loved them dearly. Sometimes they just got... a little rowdy.

*flashback to swords*

Phil visibly shuddered at the memory. "Alrighty, boys, let's go!-" "I CALL SHOTGUN!" Wilbur and Tommy shouted at the same time. The boys glared at each other and began to mercilessly yell swears and insults at the other until Phil had to step in again before someone got hurt.

When Phil pushed them apart, they didn't fight back. They just growled at each other. Phil would've laughed at them, but he didn't feel like it was the best timing, so he just lightly chuckled and quickly put on a serious face.

"Calm down, or none of you are riding shotgun," Phil scolded. He was pretty chill, but when he needed to, Phil laid down the rules. The immature children looked at Phil and realized that they should probably listen to him. They mumbled a quick 'sorry' and sprinted to the car.

It was a small dark green car, 5 seats total and a spacious trunk in the back. It was dirty to the point where anyone who looked at it could figure out that it was the only kind of mess children could make. Wrappers and chunks of pink and brown hair (courtesy of Tommy) littered the black, dusty car floor. An entire seat was dedicated to Wilbur's notebooks and pencils that he used to write songs on-the-go, Tommy's Minecraft plushies, and Techno's books and notebooks. The cleanest part of the car was the driver's seat, but even that seat was a bit messy. There was a plastic bag that was basically overflowing with trash, but some trash didn't make it to the bag. Phil had to tint the back windows so that other drivers weren't tortured at red lights when his kids played basketball with 3-year-old french fries and nuggets squished in the car.

In short, the car was very messy.

Tommy basically jumped into the middle seat and Wilbur, like a decently civilized human being, eased his way in. He was pretty tall for his age, so the roof of the car slightly bumped his head. "Hmphf! Lucky roof, I wanted to hit Wilbur," Tommy mumbled and crossed his arms. "Try it, Tommy, let's see what happens to you," Wilbur snarled back. Tommy cackled and almost leaped at Wilbur, but his seat belt held him back. Wilbur laughed and reached over Tommy to grab his notebooks and pencil.

"TOMMY, DID YOU DRAW IN MY NOTEBOOKS?!" Wilbur shouted. Half of the paged were scribbled on and signed by 'Tommy is better then Wilbutt'

"I wrote only facts-" "'WILBUTT' MY ASS!" "exACTly!" "Guys, if you don't sit down and shut up, I'll make you wake Techno up and ask to fight. Tommy, keep your hands off of his stuff."

Tommy and Wilbur looked at Phil, then at each other, and decided they would rather stop fighting than die at the moment. Tommy scowled and leaned his head on the window to silently make fun of pedestrians. Wilbur rolled his eyes and put a random tune he came up with and started jotting down lyric ideas.

"Good. Let's go," Phil nodded approvingly at his sons and pulled out of the drive way.

"Daddd, tell Wilbur to stop humming in my ear."

"Dad, tell Tommy to stop invading my personal space and making fun of my feelings."

"Your feelings? I'm making fun of your lyrics," Tommy snorted. "They hurt to read."

"Then stop reading hem or I'll make it hurt to walk," Wilbur said and stared at Tommy.

"You couldn't hurt me if you had a dumbell, idiot."

"Do you want me to grab a dumbell? I'm sure I could find out with your name on it."

"Oh, look-- my fist has your name on it!"

"Get away from me, small bug!"

"At least I don't look like I scavenge for food in garbage bins daily!"

"At least I don't sound like and 84-year old man with asthma every time I laugh!"

"Quiet! You two couldn't stop fighting if one of you was hanging off a cliff!" Phil yelled, "Tommy, sit away from Wilbur. Wilbur, don't hum loudly."

'Luckily Techno isn't here...' Phil sighed and stepped on the gas pedal.

~ { Techno's POV } ~

s n o r e

in case the author hasn't told you, i'm sleeping. they got lazy, left this story as an unfinished draft forever and came back to it and made up a half assed joke at the end to get out of actually writing more.

bye now vvv