Knull Meg Hardt, Pappa

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Arthur wanted to die when he woke up the next morning. Had somebody thrown an axe at his head last night? It sure felt like it.
He heard a loud pounding in his head.
No...wait...
That was the door.
"Coming!" Arthur shouted, wincing at his own voice. Hangover were not fun.
He shuffled to the door, opening it to reveal terrible sunlight, which he closed his eyes against.
"What the hell did ye get up to last night?" Alister asked.
"I went out drinking."
"You look like crap."
"Thanks." Arthur groaned, turning to go back into the house. His brother followed, closing the door behind him.
"What time is it?"
"Ten."
"Oh." Arthur picked up his phone, shooting off a quick text to Lukas to tell him he was "okay". He wasn't. This hangover was the worst.
"The boys are dropped off at school." Alister seemed like he had something else to say but couldn't put it into words.
"We're they good?"
"Well...Alfred...kind of...broke 'is arm?"
"WHAT?!" The agony in his head was so worth getting to scold Alister.
"He fell down the stairs. It's only a small fracture. He should be healed up in three weeks."
"We're you not watching them?! Why didn't you call?!"
"Arthur, he's a kid. They do that stuff all the time. I got the kids all calmed down, took them to the hospital, and got everything settled for you. I even picked up the painkillers the doctors prescribed on the way home. You're going through too much right now. You don't need to panic over this."
"I need to see him." Arthur felt more anxious than he ever had. One of his children had been seriously injured. His natural instincts were going into overdrive.
"Let the lad get out of school first. He's probably having all his friends sign his cast and bragging about it." Alister assured his brother. "You know how he is."
"And he was okay?"
"He's a strong boy. He was fine."
"I'm just worried about them."
"That's a parents job." Alister soothed. "Now, are you coming to the barbecue on Sunday night after the funeral?"
"I don't know..."
"It'll help the kids unwind."
"Can't they just go with you? I mean, it's only at your place."
"I think they'd like to see ya enjoying yerself. It'd set an example."
"I don't know..."
"Francis would have wanted you to go."
"Fine. I'll be there. When does it start?"
"Seven. Bring your guitar."
"I'm not jamming with you guys."
"Bring it anyway. Dylan broke his and mines off getting refretted."
"What about Aaron?"
"He won't let anybody touch his."
"I'll bring it. But you better not try to get me in on your band."
"I won't."
"I'm not playing. Not even if you decide to do the Beatles."
Alister grinned and Arthur got ready to smack him.
"Picture yourself on a boat in a river,"
"Alister,"
"With tangerine trees and marmalade skies,"
"Stop."
"Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly,"
"I'm going to kill you."
"A girl with kaleidoscope eyes,"
"Please."
"Cellophane flowers of yellow and green,"
"Ugh."
"Towering get your head."
"End my life."
"Look for the girl with the sun in her eyes,"
"And she's gone."
"Ha! I got ya! You still sing!"
"Fuck you, Alister. You butchered it."
"I sing every song the best."
"Skiltron maybe, but not the Beatles. You leave them out of whatever you're doing with your life."
"Never."
"You give me a headache."
"I think that's just the hangover." Alister teased. "Anyway, I'm done bothering you for now. See you tomorrow."
"Get out of my house you bloody Scot."
Alister obeyed, chuckling docilely to himself.
Arthur grabbed his phone, seeing that Lukas had replied to his earlier message.
You really should pace yourself next time.
That...wasn't a lie. He decided to send a text back.
Hey, Lukas? Do you want to come to a barbecue on Sunday?