Children and Other Atrocities (Wilbur)

[KATRINA CLARK]

It was swing time.

Litergully. Katrina Clark was crouched beneath the Big Red Slide at the corner of the playground, peerin’ out every so often to spy on the little chillens who were a’ runnin’ around over there. “Ain’t got nothin’ on us,” she muttered to herself, glaring at some small little brisket who was a’ bouncin’ around over on the swingset like she freakin’ owned the place. But Katrina was fifteen years old, and when you were fifteen years old, you did whatever the Sam Hill you wanted ‘a do. And that meant no little smidgens runnin’ around takin’ your swings, no sirree. Those were Katrina’s swings, dang nab it! Well, hers, and Wilbur’s.

Oh yeah, Wilbur was here too, crouching next to her beneath the slide their heads together in tight, ‘sclusive collaboration. Wilbur. Where to start? Wilbur was freakin’ awesomeness times seventy bajillion plus twelve hundred. Wilbur was always full of energy, ready to jump up and do somethin’ whenever there was somethin’ to do. Wilbur was the bravest person in the whole world and everyone knowed it, ‘cause Katrina knew that he would put himself in any sort of danger in the world just to have a good sort of adventure. Wilbur was the bestest planner and the bestest runner and the bestest hunter and the bestest everything: he was her bestest friend since the first day of Freshman year, and this was totally going to be the best playground playing day ever.

If only they could get those little freakin’ niblets off the swings.

“So. Here’s how this s’all gonna work, aright?” Katrina had drawn a really awesome map n’stuff last night, but had left it in her dorm this mornin’, and there was no way in all nater that she was goin’ to waste the day that all the Baum kids got to go to Central Park goin’ all the way back to school to get her dang map. She could do without a map. Real heroes didn’t need maps anyway, right? Right.

“You’re gonna climb those stairs up to that platform thing, and from there do some nice jumpin’ across those two beams and up onto the flagpole.” She traced the route in the whoodchips below them. “Then you gotta yell and sing a song as loud as you can, throw some stuffs at ‘em if you gotta, an’then I’ll run up behind them while they’s all gawky eyed.” Something occurred to her. “Oh, also, you gotta take a stick with ya.” She darted towards the undergrowth across the path, returning to the slide with a sizeable branch. “Like a sword, but a stick. Every hero’s gotta sword, so we gotta have one too.” She handed Wilbur the sword, nodding. “So then I’m behind them all quiet so they doesn’t see me, see, an’then while you’re all a’ singin’ and distractin’ them, you throw me the stick all quiet like.”

She tossed the stick gently to herself, demonstrating. “Then when I gets it, I’ll climb up to the top of the fence and jump from there to the top of the swingset-you’re still up there distractin’ ‘em, mind you-and then I’ll be a’ tiein’ each swing chain to the stick, and then I’ll raise the stick real high, and the swings’ll flip around all fast like, and all them youngins’ll go flyin’. Any questions? Cause I ain’t ‘splainin’ this again.”

[WILBUR HICKS]

Wilbur had thought that in all the time that he had spent with katrina ever since the two of them had met, he would have at some point begun to understand her crazy, usually awesome sounding plans. Unfortunately, it appeared that the ability to get what she said had yet to be one he possessed. Here they were, at a playground, just two big high schoolers who by all rights should have been able to walk up to those little squirts that hardly even counted as children they were so small and scared them off their swings like it was nothin. Wilbur technically could have scared them off without even getting that close, and yet Katrina seemed to be wholeheartedly set on this major plan thing. Crouching below the slide, Wilbur tried his best to look interested and like he was understanding the whole thing. He would give the occasional nod and mutter the seldom "mhmm," while doing his best to appear thoughtful.

Now, it wasn't that he didn't LIKE Katrina's ideas. Heck, they always sounded like awesome stories taken right out of some book on adventurers joureyin' through some jungle and beatin' the natives back, but...well, for the LIFE a him, Wilbur could never piece together just why exactly it was necessary for all this to happen in the first place. Sure, it seemed classy, but Wilbur didn't care about bein' classy when all he wanted to do was go on a durn swingset. Heck, he NEVER cared about bein' classy. Wilbur was not a classy kid, and he didn't see why he had to try and pretend to be somethin' he weren't.

Once she'd explained the whole thing out, it took Wilbur a moment or two to realize that she'd asked him a question and that he was sposed to stop nodding and "mhmm"-ing like an idiot. "Welllllll.... I suppose the only question that I got would be... well, can't we just go boot 'em off? They're just kids. They ain't some kinda Navy Squid team or nothin'. I'm pretty sure we could make 'em leave from here even." Wilbur took another glance at the pups. Heck, they looked like crybabies anyway. He was surprised they hadn't already run off cryin' to their mommies because a dandelion puff had landed on 'em or somethin' equally cowardly. They were hardly the type a kid that Wilbur liked to hang out with. He wanted more fun, adventuresome kids who wanted to learn how to climb up trees and fences and swim across moats and rivers like Wilbur did. They kids were no such adventurers.

"Do we really NEED the stick 'n the fence 'n the song 'n suchlike? They seem unnecessury."

[KATRINA CLARK]

Katrina’s mind had already jumped to the next task at hand as the words left her mouth. Her mind snapped into plan-makin’ mode, the gears n’ stuff all turnin’ as her eyes scanned the playground. Okay, so the swings were a short-term-ish type thing. Once they’d taken the swings all good ‘n proper, they’d head over to them covered slides, the trolleys, and maybe even the monkey bars, because she was sure as heck not havin’ them little kids slidin’ their itty bitty hands over those monkey bars when she, Katrina Clark, could actually be over there, showing off her monkey bar skills.

Wasn’t anyone better than Katrina Clark at monkey-bars-ing, and everyone in the world knew it. And if they didn’t, they would, right after they saw her climbin’ away like a nabbin’ little monkey over there. Hey, maybe they should just skip the swings and head over to them monkey bars over there? Come to think of it, Katrina didn’t even care about the swings all that much. All ya really did on ‘em was like, swing back and forth. And what kind of fun was swingin’ back and forth all day? Not a good kind of fun, that much she knew. But before she could ‘ticulate this idea to Wilbur, he spoke.

"Welllllll.... I suppose the only question that I got would be... well, can't we just go boot 'em off? They're just kids. They ain't some kinda Navy Squid team or nothin'. I'm pretty sure we could make 'em leave from here even."

Boot ‘em off? Boot ‘em off? What did this little nibblet think they was doin’ here on this playground, havin’ a nice happy Barbie doll picnic? Boot ‘em off. Honestly, sometimes Katrina just felt like she was the only person with any real sense in this whole wide world.

”It just ain’t possible ta learn you anything, ‘sit, Wilbur Hicks?” Katrina shook her head disdainfully. ”What fun’s there in booting ‘em off the things? Tell me, you ever read a book where a pirate just booted the bad guys off the treasure? Ya ever seen a movie where the hero boots the villain off the princess he wants ta kiss?” Not that she wanted ‘a kiss them little kids on the swings, oh God no. She hated kissing. Kissing was one of the grossest things ‘n the whole wide world, and everyone knew it too. ”No, ya wanna be a good an’ proper hero, ya gotta stand up and fight ‘em, good n’ proper. And ya gotta outfox ‘em too.” That was a word the equestrian coach had told her this morning. ”Ya gotta use the brains ya got, ‘cause you know there ain’t ever no villain with more brains than the hero, an’ everyone knows it too.” She nodded at the swingset, hoping Wilbur remembered her plan, because she had already forgotten most of it, and no dang nabbed way was she a’comin’ up with another on o’ them things.

"Do we really NEED the stick 'n the fence 'n the song 'n suchlike? They seem unnecessury."

”’Course it’s necessury! That’s all fools talk, Wilbur Hicks, and don’t you be talkin’ like no fool now, ‘cause you certainly ain’t one.” She giggled slightly, tossing her hair behind her left shoulder. ”Now go on. Distract ‘em.” That’d been part of the plan, right? Yeah. Course it had.

[WILBUR HICKS]

Now, Wilbur never professed to bein' the smartest bulb in the shed. Heck, he knew that he was dumber than a stick or a rock or some other dumb thing. It was for exactly that reason he didn't get too bothered when Katrina started spoutin' somethin' which sounded like complete and utter nonsesicality to Wilbur. He just figured that it was some thing o' higher learnin' that just never would and never could sound like sense to Wilbur. He figured that, bein' a girl, she was naturally inclined to know more stuff than boys could, cuz' of accountin' for the fact that since girls were obviously much weaker and scrawnier than boys they had to make up for it with smarts and such, and because o' that he always let it slide. If Katrina said to do somethin', well, Wilbur just didn't know how he could come up with a reason NOT to do it, on account that he wasn't hardly smart enough to explain it to her.

"A'ight, a'ight, I'm goin, I'm goin'!" Wilbur exhasperaterdly and resignerdly got to his feet, brushin' off some dirt from his pants. Wasn't no way that he was gonna distract a bunch a wussy little babykins with sooty pants. That was just plain rude! With a couple a kids ya had ta at least look PRESENTABLE, otherwise ya'd scar 'em for life and make 'em terrified a hobos for the rest o' their lives!

He took a few steps towards the little chickadees before realizing that, in fact, he did not remember a single word that Katrina had told him. He knew that it had all sounded very complicated and professional and just like somethin ya'd see in a movie about beating up little kids and taking their swings, but he could hardly for the life of him remember what he was spposed to do first. Now, he was pretty darn sure there had been a part about a stick, and he knew that the singin' and dancin' came in at SOME point or other, but now it all just seemed like one big ole' mess inside his head. This was why he wasn't in charge o' rememberin' stuff. Nothin' good ever came o' people trustin' Wilbur to remember stuff.

"Well...." He pondered for a moment, raising an eyebrow confusedly at the kids, trying to get his blasted brain cells to behave for once in his life. "Uhhhhhh...." Oh, for god's sake, this was an outrage! It was all Katrina's fault for expectin' him to listen ta' somethin' so smart and rememberin' the whole darn thing. She oughta have learnt by now that he couldn't do something like that!

Finally, exhasperatered beyond belief, he gave up with the whole plan and marched right up to the little pluck on the swing and shoved him off. Though the scrawny little brat was all in the dirt and a mess now and looked like he was about ta start blubberin' at any second now, Wilbur didn't care. He was still too mad at Katrina for messin' with his head like that. "This is OUR swing now, ya' hear!" Wilbur shouted at the little brat, his best angry face plastered on his....face. "And DON'T you forget how crafty I was, or how much like a hero I was, gotcha'? This was a REAL class act, and I don't wanna hear nothin' else about it!" Wilbur turned back and gave a thumbs up to Katrina, their personal secret sign that no one else knew to show that everything was going alright.

[KATRINA CLARK]

Katrina sat down on the far bench, making sure to be all quiet and suchlike so none of them little chillens noticed her. Ya had to be subtle and stuff in this type of venture, she knew. If the little kids saw that she was a’going to kick ‘em off their swings, they might form a Confederation and kill her. Danged if Katrina knew what a Confederation was, but she knew that it was bad as all hell, ‘cause every time the hero did somethin’ bad in a story, the bad guys always formed a Confederation. So Katrina wasn’t having no danged Confederations ‘round these parts. No sir.

"A'ight, a'ight, I'm goin, I'm goin'!"

"Good. 'Bout time." Katrina grunted and watched as Wilbur approached the swings. This was gonna be so great. This venture was gonna go down in the history of playgrounds as the best playground heist EVER, and EVERYONE would know it too.

"Well...." He pondered for a moment, raising an eyebrow confusedly at the kids, trying to get his blasted brain cells to behave for once in his life. "Uhhhhhh...."

Wait wait WAIT. C'mon now. Hold the phone. Now what the Sam Hill did this little nibblet think he was doin'? Katrina had 'spifically asked him to...well, danged if she remembered what she had asked him to do. Katrina didn't have to remember that kind of thing. That was what people like Wilbur were for, after all. Ya had to remember stuff like that, otherwise you weren't good for nothin'.

Distracting! That was what Wilbur was s'posed to be doing. Distracting. Right? Right.

"This is OUR swing now, ya' hear!" Wilbur shouted at the little brat, his best angry face plastered on his....face. "And DON'T you forget how crafty I was, or how much like a hero I was, gotcha'? This was a REAL class act, and I don't wanna hear nothin' else about it!"

Katrina rolled her eyes. This stupid kid had no idea what was going on in this here playground. "Wait! Wait! Hold y'alls horses! Hold the phone!" She jumped up from the bench and strolled forward quickly, shaking her head in disdain. "Yer doin' it all wrong, stupid-head! Honestly Wilbur Hicks, I gotta teach ya all 'bout this hero business." She continued to shake her head. "'Low me to demonstrate proper techniqing now."

She bounded forward, stopping to face the next kid mindin' his own business. "'Ey now! Gitoff the swing with yer hands up!" She glanced over at Wilbur, winking demonstratively. "Yer under arrest! Lezgo! Up 'n at 'em!" She beckoned to Wilbur again. "Now you tie his hands, Wilbur." She hoped Wilbur had brought a rope or a piece of cloth or suchlike, 'cause she totally hadn't.

[WILBUR HICKS]

Wilbur'd been raised with right proper morals. He liked to think so anyways. He knew that he was always supposed to eat with a spoon and knife when a fork wasn't available and not go just diggin' into his food with his hands like some kinda animal. He knew he was supposed to hold the door open for ladies, unless they were ugly 'n such in which case they were obligated to hold the door for him in order to make p for their looks. Heck, Wilbur even knew that it was considered a Foe Paw to ask a lady her age, because everyone knew that like dogs, girls didn't age in normal human years and asking them to do all that complex math in their heads was just downright mean.

NO ONE could blame Wilbur for being an uncultured cur. That was a fact as solid as the earth Wilbur stood upon, which was pretty darned solid. It was exactly because of this that he felt himself grow rather displeased with katrina. She was being altogether rude and unfair and impolite, and Wilbur would not stand for it. Who did she think she was, running around interrupting people and just shoving people around saying what SHE thought was right? It was ridiculous! Wilbur knew that he'd done a perfectly fine job of distracting the small little mongrels and, heck, he'd be the first to admit if h hadn't done a downright splendid job of getting the swings for them, and yet Katrina felt she just HAD to go barging right in to ruin the whole thing and mess it all up. Katrina thought that she knew EVERYTHING and that she was some kind of sperstar that could do no wrong and Wilbur wasn't afraid to say that NO, she was NOT.

"Heck, Katrina, they're just little whippersnappers! I ain't tyin' 'em up! It would be ungentlemanly! I think this one might be a girl too!" Wilbur poked one for emphasis to make sure Katrina saw, hopefully with a mixture of horror and downright confusing (which was the exact mixture that Wilbur himself felt upon viewing the odd little squirt), exactly what unjust evils her reign of terror had been wrought against.

"Ya' want me to tie up a small little maybe-boy-girl just 'cuz they were sitting on our swings and didn't even know it?! This one doesn't even know what it is! It couldn't be 'spected ta know that it was stealing one a our swings!"

[KATRINA CLARK]

Katrina was so ready for this, the most readiest she’d ever felt for anything since a few days ago in that dodgeball game with that Matthew Peterson. She was just like all them books that she read, the heroes, mind you, not that filthy villain scum or them stupid side-characters who nobody gave no shidoodles about. No sir, Katrina was the pragonist, and anyone who said otherwise was just plain dead wrong. Those swings were theirs, yessiree Bob.

"Heck, Katrina, they're just little whippersnappers! I ain't tyin' 'em up! It would be ungentlemanly! I think this one might be a girl too!"

”Wilbur Hicks! I am frunkly surprised at you, mister!” Katrina placed her hands on her hips with an emphatic “hmph”. ”Ain’t no fun to go on an adventure with someone who’s just a’gonna mess it all up, and everyone knows it too! Now you better shape up or I may hafta…” Katrina thought. What could she do to him, exactly? Well, she didn’t needa figure all that out now. But she was gonna do somethin’ to him, mark her words, and ain’t nothin’ he could do about it neither. ”Well, ya just better!” she finished.

"Ya' want me to tie up a small little maybe-boy-girl just 'cuz they were sitting on our swings and didn't even know it?! This one doesn't even know what it is! It couldn't be 'spected ta know that it was stealing one a our swings!"

Dang nab Wilbur Hicks and his rotten logic. The pirates and knights and champions and suchlike never used no stupid logic, so Katrina sure as hell wasn’t going to neither, no siree. There’d be none o’ that stupid Wilbur Hicks logic round these parts, no sir. Katrina was just here to have an adventure, not to do no thinkin’ ‘bout little kids and motivations and empathy and suchlike. Jeez Louise, sometimes she wondered just how other people could be so gosh danged dumb.

”Fine, Wilbur Hicks!” Katrina crossed her arms and spat on the wood chips. ”If you don’t wanna have this adventure then dang nabit we ain’t gonna have this adventure!” Gritting her teeth in irritation she turned and stormed over the nearest bench, onto which she plopped fervently.

[WILBUR HICKS]

Damn, Wilbur didn't even know what he wanted anymore. Just a few moments ago he had been positively POSITIVE that he wanted to go on these darn swings with katrina an absolutely raise heck while doing it, but looking at the little goy-birl freak creature and just how absolutely sad it looked, well, he didn't know if he could stand it. The little monster with unusually long hair just looked incredibly crushed, like Wilbur had just kciked sand in its face, or its MOTHER'S face. He didn't know if he could stand just shoving the little whippersnapper off the swing and going on as if everything was still peachy keen. How could he? He wasn't no monster like that.

Wilbur didn't usually like goin' 'gainst the grain, 'specially not when the grain was made up a Katrina. He just didn't like makin' no hard feelings between the two of them. it didn't make no sense. He could be as nasty as he wanted to SOME people, but to his one kindered spirit in this big city, well, that was just a stupid problem in the makin'. He could hardly even imagine what would happen if he were to drive Katrina away somewhow. He wouldn't know his right foot from his left without her around to set him straight!

As she stormed off to the bench in a ruther big huff, Wilbur knew he had to make a decision and decide once and for all where his loyalties lied. Was he really going to leave his one friend in a city o' monsters and maniacs just on account of this sad little genderless abomination? Was he really going to go bravely off into a fearsome and cruel world without his friend by his side because he had morals too great to ignore? Was he really THAT moved by this sad, lonely creature sitting on the swing before him, rather a lot like Wilbur now that he come to think of it. They both could be sad and alone and taunted by a scary world. They both were lost and unloved when someone bigger came and screamed and hollered. Wilbur's Pa had hollered at him and now Wilbur was hollerin' at this youngin'. Was Wilbur realy that moved by this emotional scene to have a change of heart?

No.

"Go on now, GIT!" Wilbur shouted at the little munchkin, which ran off in a rather frightened scramble. "C'mon Katrina! The adventure can go on! I was just foolin!"

[KATRINA CLARK]

Now, Katrina Clark had always a’been brought up all nice and proper, like a little tootin’ ol’ country lady down in Tennessee. Ya gotta hold the door for everyone, they’d always said to her, ya gotta say please and thank you, and ya gotta be nice and sweet, and, and this was most important, ‘ccording to her mother, ya gotta always wait your turn.
WIP

[KATRINA CLARK]

Now, Katrina Clark had always a’been brought up all nice and proper, like a little tootin’ ol’ country lady down in Tennessee. Ya had to hold the door for everyone, they’d always said to her, ya had to say please and thank you, and ya had to be nice and sweet, and, and this was most important, ‘ccording to her mother: ya had to always wait your turn. And jus’ as she’d grown up a’thinkin’ that she was asposed to do those things, she’d also grown up a’thinkin’ that other people was asposed to do that to her as well.

And other people, she’d always assumed, included that dang nab Wilbur Hicks. Weren’t it Wilbur Hicks’ responsibility to help Katrina out with her little shenanigans and shrategems? That Wilbur Hicks was bein’ a dang nab rude person,

Except…

Something struck Katrina’s heart like a mallet to a drum. But weren’t it also her responsibility as a good ol’ southern lady to not push these little chillens off the swings? Bein’ polite to them and all? Did that mean…did that mean Wilbur was obeyin’ the rules, and she was disobeyin’? Did that mean Wilbur Hicks was right and Katrina…Katrina was wrong?

Now, Katrina Clark was not one for rules. Rules were like bread, in her opinion: made to be broken. Still, when it came to Wilbur Hicks, the absolute best person in the whole wide world, Katrina was willin’ to do a bit of exceptioning. After all, Wilbur Hicks was Katrina’s best—well, her only—friend, and she didn’t want him gettin’ into stuffs that was wrong that he didn’t want to get into, just for her. That would just make her the worst best friend ever, right?

"Go on now, GIT!" Wilbur shouted at the little munchkin, which ran off in a rather frightened scramble. "C'mon Katrina! The adventure can go on! I was just foolin!"

Katrina lifted her eyes and met his. ”You…you mean it?” she asked, eyes widening like a puppy’s. ”You tellin’ the truth, Wilbur Hicks? You ain’t just playin?”

She sprang up from the bench, face suddenly incandescent. He meaned it! The adventure could go on! ”Ey! Kiddies! Off those there swings!” she hollered, grasping the nearest stick and bolting towards them. ”Me an’ Wilbur Hicks’re here, and we’re takin’ y’all’s swings, and ain’t nothin’ you can do ‘bout it, okay?”

Swinging the sword expertly, she felt closer to those heroes, those Robin Hoods and Tom Sawyers than she'd ever felt before. Because she, Katrina Clark, and he, Wilbur Hicks, were here to make some history. Weren't nothin' else to it. Dang, she'd forgotten how fun these shindigs were.