After a couple of weeks housing Hitler, I had gotten used to the normal routine: there was no normal routine. Adolf was finicky and changed his attitude daily (sometimes a blessing, most of the time not.) One day he was quiet and needed to sleep all day, he’d wake up for bottles of formulated milk, a little bit of playing for a bit, but it had been the quietest day I’d had since Adolf became my child. That night, however, he woke up seven times during the night (sadly I wasn’t able to nap with Adolf the previous day (I was busy with work stuff that I don’t want to remember)), so I got a total of, I think, three hours of sleep, as he didn’t fall back asleep when he woke at six A.M.
Naturally, I needed sleep, however I also needed to do my job so Hitler didn’t cause Word War II to occur in our room. (Eh? Funny? Not funny? Okay.) I hushed Hitler and headed out to Logan’s room. It was an astonishingly huge three step to go diagonally across the hall over one door to my best friend’s living quarters. I walked in because I knew she slept in her clothes, also knocking would only wake the children. Her room was much like mine, only messier (she had two orphans so it was expected (although she wasn’t as tidy as I was.)) I picked up things to clear a path to her, and set them next to her bed. My hands grabbed her arm and attempted to wake her by shaking her almlost off her bed and loudly whispering “LOGAN I AM ASKING YOU TO AWAKE FROM YOUR ETERNAL SLUMBER BABYSIT YES I AM SORRY NO I AM NOT SORRY ENOUGH TO NOT ASK THANK YOU SO MUCH”
“Why do we always end up here?” she grumbled.
“Where?” I said louder than I should’ve, but whatever.
“In my bed.” She smirked.
“You dirty dirty mmmacaroni.” I struggled to rhyme dirty with something other than dirty, which was ridiculous because in the previous part I rhymed with ease. Like a rap master. Stupid sleep deprivation.
“Just shut up and go sleep, I’ll take care of Hitler, Bonnie, AND Clyde.”
“Thanks Logan, I owe you one.” I forced her to actually stand up and get a drink of water first, because I knew that if I didn’t she’d fall back asleep and Hitler would have to one to look after him. Her brown hair was a curly mess, not unlike it usually was, but she didn’t really care. “I’m not trying to impress anyone, so shut up and worry about your hair; because you’re failing to impress me.” We’d met after about a week of me being at the Orphanage, which I won’t go into great detail with, as that’s a ‘boring backstory’ part that nobody loves (apparently.)
She picked up Adolf and lazily hobbled over to her bed and sat down. Across the room a blonde headed little girl and a dark haired boy (both toddlers) were sleeping in separate brightly colored cots. Bonnie and Clyde, infamous people that are now not even known to history. My thoughts were, “Well, it’s for the better, sleep is for the better too, did I close Logan’s door, I hope Bonnie and Clyde don’t rough it up with Hitler, look a bed! Well, first some water then bed.” I slept for three hours.
It wasn’t much sleep, but all the same it was time. Upon leaving my room and entering Logan’s, I didn’t wake up one bit and tripped over several children’s things, and then a thing’s child. Normally when you trip over an infamous criminal, the situation ends ith you bleeding everywhere, not just your nose bleeding. However, considering the situation, the latter is more likely than the first choice. Bonnie wailed, crumpling her face into a pathetic rage (I say pathetic because all my foot did was knock her over.) I covered my nose to prevent staining the wall I hit (and more importantly my clothes.)
It was Clyde. He was around four years old and (although she never admitted it) Logan had given him an unhealthy obsession with guns. It couldn’t have been just a natural thing because we didn’t have any guns in the Orphanage, at least not within the sight of children. The tiny mobster attacked again, but this time was interrupted my Logan.
“CLYDE! What did I tell you about shooting people? You have to aim for the head, that’s how you kill ‘em.” Clyde looked confused for the seconds between her sentences, but understood eventually. “Now try again, darling.”
In a matter of milliseconds he had two hand-pistols together pointed at me. Logan webbed his fingers from the opposite hands together to make them a Glock. She put Hitler (whom she had been holding the whole time) onto the bed, and lined up Clyde’s shot. I heard a whispered “One” My mind was a bit of a flurry, having to choose what to do when the bullet hit.
But should I? I mean, it’d be gross, and maybe inappropriate but it’d also be funny and enjoyable.
Aw what the hell
My hands separated from my face and shook my blood in every direction. Blood dripped down my face and my knees crumbled. My chest flung forward when my knees touched carpet, and in seconds I was a corpse splayed across Logan’s carpet. My hands had returned to my face to not get her room too crimson. I looked up with only my eyes and saw a big dorky smile on Clyde’s mischievous face. He trotted proudly over to where Bonnie was sniffling, grabbed her arm and dragged her to Logan.
“Mom! Mom! I did it! Saved Bonnie!” He forced his face against hers, I think it was a kiss, but I’m not entirely sure.
Bonnie shoved Clyde away from her quickly. “EWW! COOTIES! GERMS!” she yelled as she licked her hand and smudged his kiss away.
I grabbed a towel off of the ground and held it to my face, but I couldn’t stand up, because as soon as I did Clyde glared at me and put his hands to where a gunslinger’s holsters would be. His glare made me laugh so hard some blood sprayed a bit from my towel as I returned to the ground. I then slowly crawled to the door, gave Logan my eye contact, pointed to my room, and gestured towards my face.
After my wash-up, I returned to the kids. I had a relationship with Bonnie and Clyde that was similar to a relationship I might have with a niece and nephew of mine, so when I went in I naturally picked up Clyde and put him on my lap while I just tried to talk to him, but within a minute he was pretending to shoot toys and rescue them after he shot them. Bonnie was more compliant, and wanted to get on my shoulders and go on a walk. As I stood up she put one hand in her mouth and pointed with the other. I just walked where she pointed, which led out the door and down the hall. I don’t know when this happened, but somehow Clyde had grabbed my hand before we had left. We walked until Bonnie fell asleep and Clyde was dragging his feet.