Work Text:
June 2009
Maybe they married too quickly? After all, they were only in their early twenties, yet for some strange reason, after a bunch of random encounters thanks to him being the drummer of Toonz and her being one of JoJo’s top designers, Wakko decided to randomly propose to Her and they were married.
Now here they were, Wakko groaning on the couch like a toddler with a bad stomachache, while She sat on the other side of it, sipping on some blackberry wine and messing with her trusty sketchbook. The two were absolutely fucking drunk, all thanks to hanging out with Wakko’s bandmates and crashing another big party held by some big-shot celebrity who’d likely fade into obscurity within the next decade. Whose party was it they crashed, the two could barely remember. All She could recall was that she was offered a substance held in a small plastic bag that she declined without hesitation, and Wakko crashed through another glass table. Funny, considering that’s exactly what he did the night they first met, except now She was more confident and a part of the crowd while Wakko was as tame as tame came to him.
“How did a toon like me get such an awesome wife like you?” Wakko groaned sprawled on his side, the upper half of his body leaning off the furniture.
“Are you seriously that drunk?” She kept her eyes glued to her sketchbook. “I didn’t think toons could get drunk.”
“Sure we can,” he answered, leaning his head further off the couch. “Off life. And I just want you to know that I’m seriously messed up right now.”
“Just don’t go breaking any of our tables, okay? I actually like this coffee table.”
“Despite that one of its legs is wobbly?”
She glanced from her sketchbook for just a moment, “And who said he’d fix that?”
“Don’t know. Probably not this lug.” Then he went to inhale another bag of Lays barbecue chips.
“What a shame. Guess I should have married Plucky Duck instead.”
Wakko then turned on his stomach, clutching onto a red throw pillow, and looked over at his wife. He didn’t know what it was, but there was just something satisfying about thinking his wife. She wasn’t just another one of his random girlfriends or that quiet designer that worked for JoJo -- no -- she was now Mrs. Warner. His forever best friend, his partner-in-crime, his equal. They were going to be spending many long and wonderful years together causing problems for others, struggling through tons of adulting, traveling the world, and cultivating as much food as they could get their hands on. And yet, the best part of it all was that they were going to be doing it together.
“You don’t mean that,” Wakko almost growled. “I’m half the toon Plucky will ever be, and definitely more attractive.”
“Yeah, if someone liked the grunge rockstar who never bathes.”
“And I’ve gotten better. You can’t imagine what taking two showers a week has done to me.”
“Oh…you poor baby,” She bantered. “Can’t relate since I don’t like smelling like wet dog.”
Wakko with a teasing glare then crawled over to Her side of the couch, scooping her into his giant arms. He may have been small by tall, big-boned men's standards, but she was smaller, allowing him to make this exchange easy. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re married to this wet dog.”
She let out a slight laugh, completely desensitized by her husband’s overpowering stench of wet dog and various smells that he picked up throughout the week, including the strong scent of mary jane that was passed around at the party. Not exactly a wet dog, but more like a dog who was laying on the couch during a college frat party. “And probably the worst decision I ever made in my life.
Then he noticed her drawing. “Who are they?”
“Hm?”
“The kids you’re drawing.”
Kids they were. Just two little toons with Wakko’s puppy-dog ears, cat-like tails, beady black eyes, and both wearing giant sweaters to separate from the fact that they were just overgrown puppies.
“Ohh…they’re nothing.” She always did this with everything she drew, which Wakko knew instantly that they weren’t just nothing. “Well, I mean they’re something, but for what reason, I don’t know.”
“You mean you don’t know why you drew them?”
“Well, my mind isn’t in the best place right now, but ya know, I just started drawing, and they kinda happened.”
“What are their names?”
She hesitated for a moment, indicating that she didn’t have any thought up. She was also slightly drunk, not as badly as Wakko, but still drunk enough to not be thinking clearly. “Girl…” she indicated to the one on the left, “…and Boy,” she indicated to the one on the right. They both looked identical to each other, which made it hard to determine if they even had any defining genders at all. Honestly, what gender they were supposed to be didn’t matter at the moment. As far as anyone could tell, they were twins.
“Those aren’t names,” Wakko chortled.
“Well, it’s what they are.”
“And what if they don’t like their assigned names? What if Girl wanted to be Boy or Boy wanted to be Girl?”
“Well, I’m not saying that can’t be their names…”
“Or better yet, what if they wanted to be other?”
“Well when we get to that, we’ll just sit back and be super supportive of what they want to be. Whether it’d be boy, girl…” Then she looked up at Wakko. “…or other.” Wakko nuzzled her in response.
“Out of curiosity…Can humans and toons have kids?”
Wakko was puzzled by her question, “You mean, are they allowed to have kids?”
“No…I mean…is it possible for a human and a toon to have…conceive a child together?”
“Not that I know of. Or if there has been, then I haven’t heard of many. I just know tons of toon couples usually adopt or have an animator draw up their kids. Why?”
She remained silent and continued staring at the drawing with the two children. Did she want kids? Is that what she was implying? Sometimes, it was hard to tell if she meant what she was saying or if Wakko was too dumb to pick up on it.
“Do you want kids?”
Immediately, Her face flushed with red, and she batted her arms, displaying the high distress at his question. “Oh no, I wouldn’t dream of it!”
Then she calmed herself, “Well, I mean, there’s a part of me that wants a baby, but that could just be the maternal instinct in me talking. Ya know, that part of me that says my only purpose in life is making babies and being a Mom. But, also, I know it’s not me.”
“You mean that?”
“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t mind being a mother if I had to. I just… know that’s not what I want out of life…” Then her face turned pale as if all the blood had just left her head. “Oh shoot! You don’t want kids, do you? I mean, of course you do, how could you not? I can just imagine the terror on everyone’s faces when they see a bunch of little Wakkos running all over the place.”
“Honestly, it never crossed my mind before,” Wakko said. “I was drawn as a kid, so having kids of my own would just be strange to me. But sometimes, I wonder what’d be like to be a Daddoo. Ya know, live in a rustic water tower, my wife making an amazing dinner, while the little ones played on the floor with the dogs. I thought maybe we’d have six or seven.”
“Okay, now you’re just messing with me. And no, we’re not having six or seven kids.”
“How ‘bout ten? Or a thousand?”
“I can’t even handle one.”
“Then can we at least have six or seven dogs?”
She smiled at that, “Sure, I’d like that.”
Wakko then looked back at her drawing. “Would you at least be willing to let me give the kids some color?”
“I guess? I just figured I’d leave them blank.”
“Don’t be silly. I think they’re at least deserving of some color.”
Wakko then rolled up his sleeves and squeezed his two gloved paws together, creating a small stream of ink. A disturbing sight nonetheless for one who wasn't familiar with toons or knew for the fact that they could produce ink.
“Now let’s see here,” He said, sticking out his tongue deep in concentration. “If I had a daughter, I think she’d be fond of life.” He splashed the ink onto the page, falling right on the one called “Girl.” The ink covered everywhere she had black fur, completely missing the white part of her face, and gave her the iconic red nose that the Warners were known for. “She’d be energetic and excitable, but also very kind to the people and animals. And she’d also have a big heart, and will do whatever it takes to put a smile on anyone’s face.” Her eyes absolutely sparkled when the ink splashed on them.
“And she’ll want to be a singer,” She chimed in. “After all, she’ll have a sweet little voice that'll charm anyone that hears it. However, I imagine that she’ll also be a troublemaker. She’ll have her heart set on something, and it won’t matter who’s in the way—she’ll make sure nobody’s in the way. Not to mention, I’m sure she’ll be just as hungry as you are, and I fear, may eat us out of house and home. But no matter what she does, or how much she’ll aggravate me, at the end of the day, I’ll probably still be laughing.”
“Not to mention she’ll be pretty, like her mother. There'll be tons of boys that’ll want to date her, and you can guarantee that my trusty mallet would also like to meet them.”
“Though I’m sure she’ll be capable of taking care of herself. You can betcha she’ll be a trickster just like you, Yakko, and Dot."
“She does look kinda like my sister now that you mention it.” Maybe it was the little smirk in Girl’s eyes or maybe the fact that there was something “cute” about her that made him think about Dot. If she was wearing pink, the similarities would have been uncanny, but instead, the sweater she wore was colored a pretty magenta.
“What if we named her after Dot?” She suggested.
Wakko only shook his head, “I’d feel like I’d get their names mixed up if my sister and daughter were both named Dot.” Wakko then concentrated a little harder. “…I got it! Angelina.” Dot’s real name, Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca III. Though she preferred Dot.
“Angelina…” She repeated. “That would be a wonderful name.”
She directed her attention towards the kid on the right. “Now, as for Boy…I think he’s going to be a lot like his father.”
Wakko followed suit by covering him with black ink like his sister, “You mean, zany to the max? Always hungry? An absolute stud?” Black covered everywhere there was fur, except for his face, and red splashed onto his nose, already taking after Wakko in likeness.
“Or he could be a lot different than his father. After all, looks aren’t what makes the child. All I know is, he’s going to look up to you a lot. I think he might be worried about a lot of things, unsure about the world around him or who he’s supposed to be. After all, I imagine dealing with toon abilities has gotta be something for a child. He’ll need a dad who can show him the way.”
“And also a Mom to be there for him. No matter how old he’ll be, he’ll always look to her for guidance and comfort. Maybe he’ll be into gadgets and gizmos, or racecars, or those pocket monsters-- whatever the heck boys are supposed to be into.” After finally finishing up the coloring process, Wakko shook his paws. It was fortunate that he didn't get the ink everywhere, but that didn’t stop Boy’s sweater from being covered with a teal-green.
“But he’ll definitely be kind to the animals, no matter what,” Her eyes gleamed. “I mean, can you imagine him bringing home a puppy and begging to keep it?”
“He’d probably have some big speech about why he deserves it and how responsible he’ll be, despite that we’ll probably be doing most of the work.”
“But I also like to think he’d be very sensitive. I don’t think he’ll be as much of a troublemaker as his sister. If anything, I think he’d follow her everywhere...”
She knew that look in Wakko’s eyes, he wasn’t listening to anything she was saying anymore. Instead, he was only focusing on her face’s expressions, her eyes, her lip’s movements.
“What?”
“You know, I think you’d make a great mother despite what you say.”
She found herself laughing, and butted into him, “God Wakko, you’re so drunk. I’m so drunk…I don’t even know why we’re doing this. I mean, I guess it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I ever had kids.”
“We could always consider adopting. Seems like that's the only way we could even have kids.”
“But that’s a problem for another day-"
Suddenly, She moved the paper a little too quickly and cut her hand.
“Shit!”
The sketchbook landed suddenly on the couch.
“Honey, what the—“
“It’s fine...” she hissed as blood slowly started trickling from her hand. “Just a stupid ass papercut.”
“Looks like a pretty bad one to me.”
She stumbled a bit, clutching onto her hand as she made her way to the bathroom. Despite immediately getting up to treat it, the damage was already done. Blood splatters were now sprinkled over the ink that Wakko colored the page with, all over the twins’ fur, their sweaters, and their unblinking smiles. The poor twins, though unalive, were now covered in ink and blood, something that only a few toons ever faced during their creation.
Wakko stumbled after Her, making sure she was okay and fully capable of handling her wound in her drunken state. Unsurprisingly, they both weren’t. She managed to get the wound washed off before he tripped in there, taking him at least five minutes to figure out where the bandages were and how to apply one to her wound.
Though it wasn’t his purpose as a toon to aid the sick and wounded, Wakko did succeed in keeping Her laughing and not thinking about the sharp slice that pierced through her palm. Wakko didn’t know how she was capable of making a cut so deep, and neither did she, all she knew was that she was hurt, and tired, and ready to call it a night. Wakko without hesitation agreed. After a long night of partying and daydreaming about future kids and what’d they be like, Wakko decided it was time they both got some sleep.
For all they knew, maybe they should have been more grateful at the time. Maybe they should have appreciated the thought that they could go to sleep and fall asleep whenever they pleased. Both of them curled up under a thick leopard-print comforter, only needing to be concerned for the other and not concerned with anything else. Just two newlyweds unbeknownst for what lied in their future and that this would be the last night in ages that they could get drunk so casually.
-----
It was three in the morning when Wakko heard a crash. Startled awake, he clung onto Her, his first instinct being to keep his wife safe in his arms.
She was also startled awake by the noise. “What was that? You don’t think it could be robbers.”
“Only one way to find out,” Wakko whispered, reaching into his hammer-space and bringing out his trusty mallet. He slowly got out of bed and crept towards the door, sneaking through the night like a giant, lumbering shadow.
“Wakko, be careful.”
“Don’t worry,” Wakko assured Her. “Just going to greet my new special friends.”
Never could Wakko imagine that as nice of a complex as they lived in, and yet they could still get robbed. The building had a guard, doors with strong locks, and the penthouse they lived in was high enough to withstand the cliched trope of robbers breaking in through the window, yet here he was creeping through the halls and prepared to meet some new special friends. Breaking into the home of an authority figure was one thing, but breaking into the home of a toon who was notorious for tormenting his victims special friends was another. At least with an authority figure, you’d be thrown into jail, which was far more pleasurable than the insanity that the Warners bestowed upon their victims special friends.
Wakko didn’t care that he was in pajamas or if his fur was ruffled on many ends, you didn’t mess with Wakko Warner, and you especially didn’t disturb him during a good night’s rest. He was going to make sure that those robbers were so frightened that even their robber grandchildren would get chills at the mere mention of his name.
Nearing the kitchen, Wakko was shocked to find that the lights were completely out. Didn't the robbers need to see? And even so, what exactly did he have in his kitchen that they’d want? The new expresso machine? The fine china they got from their wedding? You bet there’d be hell to pay if they were trying to steal his food-- no one ate Wakko’s food except Wakko.
He hesitated for a moment, trying to think about what catchy one-liners he could say, or what form of torture he could instill and yet still be funny at the same time. Did he really need to be so violent with them? He then looked back at his mallet, just resting upon his shoulders like the harbinger of doom that it was. Yes. He needed to do this.
Wakko slowly inched into the kitchen, seeing if he could catch the robbers off-guard. Upon creeping into the room, he could hear something scuttling across the floor. Tiny scuttling, like something you’d hear from a small animal rather than the sound of two inexperienced robbers.
“Hello…” Wakko called quietly. “Special friends? I’ve got something for you.” He lifted the mallet over his head and continued creeping into the kitchen. One of the first things he noticed was one of the floor cabinets doors wide open. He could also see that a bunch of pans was sprawled across the floor, likely where the sound of the crash came from. What were they rummaging in the lower cabinets for? Seemed kind of strange considering that there was a lot more worth stealing than just a couple of pots and some cookware.
“It’s a very special surprise. Quite a smash if I say so myself.” Oh geez, since when did he go around using stupid puns like that. He must have been really exhausted to stoop to his brother’s form of comedy. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
Suddenly, he flipped on the kitchen light, allowing himself to see if he could spot the robbers hiding under the kitchen table. Nothing. Instead, all he could hear was some more cluttering coming from that lower cabinet where the pots and pans were stored.
Maybe it was a raccoon. There were horror stories about a family of raccoons that infiltrated the air vents and broke into a couple of apartments in the complex, likely it could happen again. Or maybe it was one of those stray cats from the streets. Any of these seemed like the logical explanation of who the intruder was in Wakko’s penthouse, except neither was what he found when he crept over towards that area, mallet still high above his head.
Gently kicking the cabinet door closed, Wakko found himself face-to-face with a baby with beady black eyes, a face covered in black and white fur, and wearing a cute purple onesie. The baby was busy chewing at one of the wooden spoons they kept in the lower cabinets along with a few other utensils. Wakko felt like he was going to collapse, yet the mallet was the only thing that fell behind him. Luckily for him, it barely missed his tail that was standing up on end at the sight of this random baby in his kitchen.
“H-hey there, little guy,” Wakko greeted, still wondering if what he was seeing was real. “How did you get in here?” The baby only continued gnawing away at the spoon, saliva dripping down its handle. “And what do you think you’re doing with that spoon?”
The baby then looked up at Wakko, dropping the spoon with a giggle. Suddenly, a pair of giant puppy dog ears perked up from the side of its head, and a giant toothless grin stretched upon its face. He could also see coming out of its onesie a little black tail that looked like it belonged on a cat or a monkey. Tiny black paws reached out towards him, paws that’d likely form into hands that could grab at anything when they got bigger.
Suddenly Wakko collapsed to the floor, nearly taken aback at this strange little creature that looked exactly like him. Well, technically it looked more like Dot when she was a baby, (well, if she was ever a baby, but it did look so much like the baby design they came up with when they filmed Wakko’s Wish.)
Wakko allowed for the tiny toon to crawl towards him, scooping it up with his front paws to get a closer look. No doubt about it, this creature was a Cartoonus Characterus just like him, but the question as to how it got in his penthouse was an even bigger one.
“Well what do you know, you’re just like me.” Then he looked towards the readers, “And here I thought me and my sibs were the only ones.”
As he looked back at it, the baby started grabbing at his long, matted hair. “Well I know for one thing, you’re very cute, and you certainly gave me and my wife a fright.”
Suddenly, he could hear the baby’s stomach purr with life. Someone was hungry, and likely that spoon was going to be its snack. Even now, he could feel their gums nibbling at a thick strand of his hair.
“Sounds like somebody wants a snack.”
Wakko then got up and approached the fridge, pondering what he could feed a baby at three in the morning. Well, there was yogurt, but he knew that She would kill him if he dared touched that. It always felt like a civil war when it came to this couple and whose food belonged to who. Near the back of the middle shelf, Wakko happened upon some apple slices leftover from Her cooking. Now those he knew were free game considering that she usually left that stuff for him to snack on, not only because she was against the idea of food waste, but also because she wanted to incorporate some good foods into his diet.
He thought about slicing them up for the baby, all nice and chewable so it’d be easy to swallow, but before he could think, the baby grabbed the container and started shoveling apple slices into its mouth. Wakko tried to stop them before they choked, but immediately all the apple slices were gone and in the baby’s tummy. Wakko snagged the container before they thought about eating that too. This baby was an eating machine just like him, those apple slices didn’t stand a chance.
Once the baby realized that there was nothing else for them to snack on, they reached towards the fridge, indicating that they wanted more and knew that the only way to get it was through that giant silver door.
“No, I can’t let you eat anymore,” Wakko whined. “You’ll eat all my food."
In response, the baby only blew up their cheeks, stuck out their tongue, and looked Wakko dead in the eyes. “A-are you trying to do a gookie? This is how you do a gookie.” Wakko followed suit by puffing up his cheeks, blowing out his lips, and crossing his eyes.
Expecting a giggle, the baby only sat there unamused, continuing to stare up at him while their face began turning purple. "H-hey, stop that!" he demanded. "You're starting to look like that blueberry girl from Willy Wonka."
Eager little thing, Wakko had to give it that. They weren’t going to stop making that dreaded face until they got what they wanted.
"Fine, fine. Let's see what else there is." The baby only let out a little laugh as their face returned to its black and white palette. Once more, Wakko shuffled through the fridge, looking for what he could give to the baby.
Well, that was until he heard a blood-curdling shriek coming from the back room. “Wakko! Oh my god! How could this happen?!”
Suddenly, he could hear his wife’s frantic footsteps rush towards the kitchen. “Wakko, if you can hear me, please say anything?! Please tell me you’re still…”
She walked into the kitchen and suddenly stopped, seeing that Wakko was standing before her with a random baby in his arms. However, what he didn’t expect to see besides his wife’s frantic expression was her holding a strange little creature similar to the one he was holding. Just like the baby he was holding, this one had puppy-dog ears and a little black tail hanging from its green onesie. It looked so much like a big puppy, especially when the creature turned to face Wakko, gazing at him with concerned black eyes, and a little pink tongue that stuck out of its mouth. Now this child, this little tiny Cartoonus Characterus looked exactly like he did when he was younger. Not that he was ever a baby either, but if he was, he imagined that he’d look like the little one his wife held in her hands.
“Wakko…You’re here.” She sighed with relief.
“And why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well…I was afraid that well…you turned into a baby. And I literally thought this was you.”
Her eyes widened, “Wait, a minute! If you’re standing right there, then who’s this? Also, is that another baby I see in your arms?”
“Yes. This is a baby you see in my arms.”
“B-but where did they come from? They’re not yours, are they?!”
“I’ve never seen these kids in my life.”
While both adults were going back and forth at how possibly these two random babies appeared in their penthouse so suddenly and so late in the night, the little tike She held in her arms started to cry. Well, as what would be considered crying. Rather than screaming and breaking into tears like a regular baby, the little one in Her arms started yelping and whimpering like a little puppy.
Both adults stopped to look at the crying baby, frantic as to what they could do to calm them down. The little one in Wakko’s arms was also nervous about the frantic cries of their look-a-like, but rather than fretting like the adults, they remained calm and flitted in Wakko’s arms.
“Bubba…” they babbled as they reached their arms towards them.
The other baby turned to look at its look-a-like, tears still in its eyes. “Sis-sis.”
The two babies then started reaching their arms towards one another, whining and squirming in both adult’s arms. Noticing this exchange, both adults scooted closer, allowing for both babies to see each other. Immediately, peace was restored in that small penthouse as both babies closed their eyes and locked their little paws into each other within balled-up fists.
“Strange…It’s like they came right out of nowhere,” Wakko mused.
Suddenly Her eyes lit up, “The drawing!”
“What?”
Wakko followed his wife into the family room, walking towards the sketchbook that was still sprawled across the couch right where they left it. However, the sketchbook wasn’t as they left it, instead, the two found themselves staring at a blank paper with blood stained on the page.
This had been the page She drew on, or so she thought. The bloodstains were in the correct spots as where they landed earlier, and she had the bandaged hand to prove it, but there were no little kids with Wakko’s eyes or puppy-dog ears, or little monkey tails. There was practically nothing at all. Instead, the two kids were now sitting in their arms as little babies.
“I don’t believe it, Wakko...They’re Girl and Boy…”
Horror immediately washed upon her face, “Oh gosh! That means…I’m their mommy!”
She relaxed onto the nearest spot on the couch, continuing to hold Boy in her arms.
“I’m a mother.”
Wakko found himself sitting next to her, concerned for the horrified look in her eyes. He recognized this look, he’d seen it on many animators' faces before, especially from his own. Yakko, Wakko, and Dot were suddenly brought into the world, and everyone’s expressions upon seeing them were pure terror, especially when the three began painting silly faces onto their new victims special friends.
Wakko should have felt just as horrified, but honestly, he felt more worried about his wife not wanting them. Compared to how he was upon his creation day, they seemed pretty tame, well maybe except for the little one in his arms. Girl seemed like she was going to be a handful if she was already a menace to wooden spoons and apple slices.
Suddenly Boy clutched onto Her night-robe like a little koala, whimpering and squeaking like a newborn puppy seeking warmth. Her horrified expression immediately melted away and a bittersweet look appeared in those eyes as She went to comfort him. “Oh gosh, Wakko, they’re like little puppies. I never wanted to be a Mom but oh gosh…I can’t help but love them. Is this what being a new mother feels like?”
“Don’t know. Our animator jumped out the window when he first saw us.”
“Well, I guess I’m doing an okay job then.” Then she looked at both babies in their parent’s arms. “Just look at them. They’re absolutely wonderful.”
Wakko looked down at Girl, still flitting around in his arms. “Then I guess that would make me your Daddoo.”
Daddoo. There was just something so satisfying about saying Daddoo out loud. He said it many times in his youth to refer to their victims special friends who seemed like good papa material, but now, that was something he could say about himself. He was just as lost as the next person or toon whose offspring suddenly bounced off the page and demanded them to be their parents, but he was also just going with the flow of the situation, such as Wakko did.
She held Boy in her arms, helping him calm down as best as he could from his constant whimpering and trying to wipe that uncertain look from his eyes. Then she let out a soft yawn. “I say we should all go to bed. We’ll take care of this baby stuff in the morning.”
“You heard her, little girl,” Wakko said. “It’s time for bed.” The baby let out a little giggle as she flitted in her newly acclaimed Daddoo’s arms.
What a cutie she was. She looked so much like a little Dot, and yet, she had a giant smile that Wakko could only describe came from him. No doubt about it, she was going to be a little spitfire when she got bigger, and heaven knows what a troublemaker she would grow up to be just like he was. At least she was a tiny little ball of fluff for now and easily manageable as she found it hard to break free from his grasp.
While She took the pups and arranged a little place for the twins to sleep on their giant bed with the leopard-print comforter, Wakko immediately had to tell Yakko and Dot about the news. He was officially a Daddoo, which meant his beloved siblings were now a proud uncle and aunt. However, he also should have realized the consequences of such actions when he found himself trapped on the phone with Yakko.
He could just feel the entire water tower shaking on the other end of the call with Yakko shouting and bouncing up and down at the mention that he was now officially an uncle. Luckily, Dot was a little laxer considering that she was not fond of having her beauty sleep disturbed, but being told that she was now an aunt was something she needed to hear. Then suddenly Yakko had nabbed the phone from Dot’s hands and began asking fifty more questions about the twins.
How big are they?
Can they talk?
What are their favorite words?
Do they have a favorite nursery rhyme?
Have they eaten all your food?
Have they burned the entire complex down?
Did they draw on your faces?
Can they use mallets yet?
Am I the favorite uncle?
Do they like me better than Dot?
Are they dying to meet their favorite uncle?
“Yakko, you’re their only uncle,” Wakko yawned unamusingly. It was a long night for the new parents, and Wakko was looking forward to getting back to sleep as soon as possible. Eventually, well, about an hour at most, Wakko was able to escape his brother’s ramblings and could finally settle down with the rest of his family.
Even though the alarm clock glowed four-thirty AM by the time Wakko walked into the bedroom, She was still awake, laying with the twins. She gazed down at them longingly, the fear in her eyes no longer there. Girl and Boy were busy sleeping on top of one other like the little puppies they were, completely inseparable. Any need to separate them would cause an uproar from one or the other. By this time tomorrow, they'd be occupying the guest room and sleeping in their own baby crib.
Wakko couldn’t help but stand in the doorway, completely entranced by the sight. Not only did he have a wife, but now a son and a daughter that was going to be depending on him a lot. Sure, he was still Toonz drummer and She was still JoJo’s best designer, but oh, those occupations were going to have to wait until both parents adjusted to their new routines. The twins were top priority now.
Once She noticed him standing at the doorway, Wakko entered the room and crawled into bed, laying on the other side of the twins.
“Girl and Boy,” she mused. “Our little babies.”
“We need better names for them,” Wakko deadpanned tiredly.
“Indeed,” she yawned in agreement. “Especially before they meet your siblings.”
Wakko then flicked off the lamp next to him. “You know, this parenting thing isn’t as bad as the movies make it out to be. I think we might actually make this work.”
Little did he know, he would be eating his words later that wee