Written by Czar Fruitcake
SUMMARY: Eric gets his.
Robbie rubbed his slightly sore hands together contentedly as he descended from Lucy’s attic bedroom, leaving her sobbing about something or another related to Kevin. She had already forgotten that Robbie had THWACKed her; after all, her pea sized brain could only hold so much.
Wandering outside, Robbie found “Reverend Camden,” as he liked to call himself, sitting on the back porch with a homeless clown. The two of them were discussing the trials of their respective faiths. Robbie listened in for about thirty seconds, found it impossible to take the clown seriously when it had a big red smile painted on its face, and promptly reached out to smack Eric upside the head.
The clown ran out of the yard looking frightened, and Eric yelled, “HEY! I just had (dun da da dun!) open heart surgery. You shouldn’t be agitating me.”
THWACK! “Yeah, I forgot about that. I must have blocked it out of my memory along with the bowling incident when you acted as though you were about to die. Is that the same surgery that caused you to have dreams that you were Elvis? You’re in surgery so much that I can’t seem to keep it straight.”
“Robbie,” Eric said gravely, looking at Robbie as though he were a small child, “open heart surgery is a serious matter. I could have died…”
His speech was interrupted by another THWACK. “It’s 2003. You have a greater chance of getting killed by a renegade flying pineapple than dying from open heart surgery. And why, Mr. Camden, do you feel it necessary to discuss your problems with either your alter ego in the mirror or whatever random person from the street happens to be lounging on our back porch this week?”
“Robbie, that’s Reverend Camden. Although I am currently in the process of questioning my faith entirely, I still technically hold that title and I want you to respect that because it makes me feel special.”
THWACK! “You’re not a Reverend! Your brand of pseudo non-denominational Christianity only ever surfaces when one of your beloved children decides to marry a Jewish girl, and suddenly you need to compete with her father so you insist that your son cannot abandon Jesus even though you’ve never even mentioned the word ‘Jesus’ in any of your sermons! And you can’t just quit the church – no one in this family will be making any money and the church owns the home that you currently use to house your clan of nine as well as whatever stray men that happen to have had feelings for one of your daughters at some point in time.”
Eric smiled a big goofy smile, and patted Robbie on the head, forgetting in his drug-induced stupor that he wasn’t having a conversation with Happy. “Don’t worry so much Robbie. Just have faith that everything will work out.”
Robbie gave him a final oh-so-satisfying THWACK, and strolled off, muttering under his breath, “hypocritical-wannabe-minister-of-some-mysterious-denomination-of-Christianity-presumptuous-stalker-of-his-own-children-fatally-attracted-to-a-menopausal-psycho…”