Wee Weasel Tales: Fiendish Friends

Turning Turtle - Part 1

This is the first part of the sixth chapter of the triquel: Fiendish Friends! This part is where the human Tito Turtle makes his first appearance! Due to personal discontent with how his backstory's written in the comics, I'm writing it a bit differently in these two parts! Is that okay? I hope that you guys like it! 👍

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In the far left corner of the 'Super Happy Fun Room', the asylum, back in the past, three days later ...

Jerry Robert Willis was sitting at a small, bare table for one, far away from everyone else in the 'Super Happy Fun Room'. And that was just how Jerry wanted it, at the moment.

The middle-aged man was bent over a sheet of paper attached to a clipboard; being held by his right hand.

Jerry's brow furrowed in concentration as he drew carefully with a pencil, his determined gaze fully focused on the playful figure that he was drawing. He was also wearing a pair of glasses, to help with the fine details of the art.

The serial killer chief's desk was covered in pieces of blank paper, a couple of asylum library books, and some ordinary and colouring pencils.

The dull blue walls surrounding Jerry Willis on three sides were lined with a locked trunk, a barred, glass window, and small bookshelves with bric-à-brac on top of them.

The asylum staff (or the 'fools and morons' as Jerry called them) were really chuffed earlier when the serial killer chief asked them for some paper and colouring pencils to do some 'artwork'.

They were almost falling over themselves to grant his requests, talking in whispers about how 'the treatment seems to be working', and 'maybe he's changing for the better'.

Jerry's face twisted into a contemptuous expression for a couple of seconds. Ha! I would rather damn myself to hell than pander to those giddy, soppy-brained idiots! he thought to himself.

"Hi, Mr. Willis!" called a familiar voice suddenly, followed by approaching footsteps. "Whatcha doing?" Without looking up, the aforementioned chap recognised the voice instantly.

Camilla Love, his most recent recruit ... officially nicknamed "Cammy" by Jerry himself.  The orange-shirted, asylum resident wasn't really that keen to chat while drawing, but ... he'd almost finished the picture.

Plus, Jerry was officially in charge of a proper gang now. He had to get used to the extra company. Well, more company than usual (with Bia).

There was just one issue though ...

"Cammy, my snowflake, please call me 'Willy'", the serial killer chief said calmly as he picked up a rich orange-coloured pencil. "Mr. Willis was my 'father'."

Jerry's face then twisted in anger and hatred, a truly frightening sight; as he spoke. "God. Have. Pity. On. His. Wretched. Soul."

Those last several words were stilted, icy, and sounded like the middle-aged man had to physically drag the words out of himself.

The incoming Cammy, who had wits enough to recognise a dangerous situation when she saw one, shakily smiled disarmingly and tried to change the subject.

"Did your mother make up it for you, sir? It's a nice nickname!" the young, blonde girl nervously complimented her boss. Jerry Willis merely closed his eyes for a second and sighed deeply.

"Thanks, but my mother didn't make it up. She wasn't the type for nicknames", the orange-shirted chap said tersely, grimacing.

"More the ... 'leaving and never coming back' type." The orange pencil suddenly snapped as it was viciously stabbed right through the paper by Jerry.