Reupload of an old story. People wanted to see it again so here it is. It was never finished. There is, however, a bonus chapter that was never published that will appear here for the very first time.

This is a loose sequel to The BS Life of Lemy Loud (I know, it's still ongoing, hush) that will focus on Lemy's children. Yes, that's right, I'm going to Gen 3. Everyone thinks I'm crazy for going there, and you know what? I am.

Here is a handy key so you know what's what:

Lora (19) - Lemy x Loan daughter

Lydia (17) - Lemy x Liena daughter

Lester (16) Lincoln x Lisa son

Gavin (14) - Lemy x Gwen son

Leah (9) - Lemy x Leia daughter

Lean (6) - Lemy x Lizy daughter

AberrantScript is working on an original kid who'll appear later on, and I may add more - these are just the kids who appear in this chapter. Any others will appear in the next or not at all, I won't spring any on you fifty chapters in (not gonna be fifty chapters).

Lyrics to My Buddy by G-Unit (2003)

Everyone has problems, some smaller than others, some larger. Gavin Michael Loud's problem at the moment was small on the surface, but look at it in the context of his life, and it was massive. Lanky and tall for fourteen with short brown hair styled in a bowl cut since that's all his mom could give him, Gavin didn't like many things in the world. He liked science fiction paperbacks, mathcore, and video games, the latter most of all. Pong, Super Mario Brothers, Goldeneye, Grand Theft Auto 3, Call of Duty: Black Ops - literally any game you could throw at him, though hentai games made him uncomfortable, especially if there were tentacles involved. Eeew. Lovecraft is great, sex is...fine, I guess, but Lovecraftian sex? I'd rather watch my parents. Oh, Lemy, faster; Gwen, you feel so good.

Uh, on second thought, maybe Cthulhu Sluts 10: Eldritch Boner isn't so bad after all.

Anyway, video games were his passion, one he developed while playing them with his grandfather as a child - he loved spending time with grandpa, and video games were their special thing, just as tea parties were his and Leah's thing, and sitting quietly in the same room and staring at the wall in awkward silence was his and Lester's thing.

Oh, God, speaking of Lester…

If everyone has problems, everyone also has that one creepy relative that makes everyone uncomfortable. For the Louds, it was Lester. He was practically Gavin's brother, but biologically he was his uncle - grandpa and auntie Lisa had him pretty late in life: He was sixteen, two years older than Gavin, and they used to go to the same school before Lester graduated...early, of course, because he was smart like his mother. Unlike his mother, he was a weirdo and total asshole. He spent virtually every minute of every day locked in his room working on his computer at God only knew what. Gavin called him The Phantom, after the Phantom of the Opera - short with a pudgy stomach and greasy black hair that had a way of falling in his face Shemp-style, he wore sweater vests over sloppily untucked button-ups, tan slacks, and scuffed brown loafers he got either from the thrift store or out of a grave. He looked like a college professor - the kind that asks pretty girls to stay after class in a hissing, husky whisper. His worst feature (worse even than the volcanic acne studding his face) were his eyes: They were always wide and staring, fevered, sick, like the eyes of a guy you'd see in a book on serial killers. When they fell on you, your soul shriveled up like a puddle on a hot sidewalk, and if they lingered for more than a few seconds, you spent the rest of the day worrying he was going to pop out of his lair as you passed, drag you in, and run Mengele level experiments on you.

Everyone called him Uncle Fester behind his back, and he hated it - one time he walked into the dining room while Lora was talking shit about him and caught "...Fester's fat ass." Flashing, he threw down a stack of science books he was carrying (startling everyone), spun on his heels, and stalked out with his hands balled at his sides. She felt really bad afterwards - with all of her mom's issues, she was usually pretty conscious of other people's feelings. To be fair, though, Fester did something pretty dickish to her earlier in the day. Gavin couldn't remember what, though; Fester being a jerk happened so often you might as well try to remember every single time you walked by the end table in the upstairs hall, or every time you opened a certain door. In fact, one of Gavin's earliest memories was of Lester shocking him with a live electrical wire and laughing in that hissing, snorting way of his. He still had a scar on his left forearm.

The only one who wasn't revolted/terrified/completely off put by him was Lydia - every time someone said something about him, her brows would furrow and her normally gentle face would darken like a cloud passing in front of the sun. You guys are so mean. He's just sad and lonely. Well, that was not untrue, but maybe if he wasn't a giant bastard to everyone, he'd be a little more popular around the house. Lydia didn't see it that way, she thought everyone else was bullying him.

Leave it to her to see it that way. She was too nice for her own good, and kind. She was the type of girl who'd bring home every stray in the neighborhood if you let her because he looks so sad. The only thing she loved more than nurturing animals and playing den mother to her siblings was the honor roll: The day she didn't turn in her homework or complete her assignment first was the day Satan threw on a parka and pulled on his galoshes.

Where was I again?

Oh, yeah. Video games. One day, Gavin was going to be a game designer; he already had notebooks filled with ideas and sketches that he kept tucked safely under his pillow and brought out when he wasn't busy playing. He wasn't a bragging kind of guy, but he thought he had some good stuff, and in nine or ten years, he'd be famous.

Right now, however, on a warm Saturday afternoon in the middle of April, he had a major issue: His OmniBox6000, which could play every video game known to man, from Atari 2600 carts to the latest Playstation discs, wasn't working. When he turned it on, the screen went blue and Russian text flashed across. He was good with math and science, but at actually fixing things? No...not even a little: Theory and practice are two very different things. He could figure how to do something, but it was the doing part that always tripped him up. Dad was a mechanical whiz, and so was his great-aunt Lana, but he was trash.

Normally, he'd call Dad to help, but he, Mom, and aunt Leia were visiting their friend Marsha in Chippewa Falls. Aunt Lizy was pretty good, but she and Lora took Lean and Leah to a birthday party at The Pizza Dungeon. Lana was at work. That meant…

Gulp.

...he'd have to take it to Uncle Fester.

Standing in the middle of his sun-bathed room with the sleek OmniBox in his hands and a tight-lipped expression of indecision on his face, Gavin took a deep breath through his nose and glanced at the open door - beyond, the hall stood empty, silent. He really didn't want to do this, but what else was he going to do, go outside? Pfft. He could work in his notebook, but he was on Level 50 of Pac-Man 2069 and he was itching to get to Level 60 by the end of the day - from what he read online, Level 60 was when things got intense.

Dad wouldn't be back until late (he always was when he went to visit Marsha), and Lizy would…

You know what? Nevermind. I'm going to see if Uncle Fester will do it. I mean, the guy isn't that bad. Like...he won't really pull me into his lab and give me a Jeffrey Dahmer lobotomy. The worst he'll do is say no. And maybe slam the door in my face.

The rough patch on his arm where Lester shocked him all those years ago stung as if in protest. He's a madman, Gav. Don't do it.

I'm going to do it.

Taking the OmniBox with him, he went out into the hall and immediately tripped over one of Lean's toy trains; he stumbled, and the console flew from his hands, arching up before beginning its descent...and it was a long way down.

It crashed to the floor, and Gavin followed, sinking to his knees and throwing his hands up with a loud, protracted, "Nooooo!" The system tumbled end over end like a rectangular wheel, shedding bits and pieces of black plastic casing as it went. As he watched in horror, it hung an impossible sharp left and disappeared down the stairs. Thud! Thud! Thud! When it hit the bottom, he winced.

"What was that?" Lydia called from the living room.

Gavin hung his head. Nothing, just my most prized possession. The reason I get up in the morning...the thing that I look forward to while guys shoot spitballs at the back of my head and girls sneer at me like I'm disgusting.

Just my life.

Heaving a deep breathing, he got to his feet and crept tentatively to the head of the stairs, already knowing he wasn't going to like what he found. At the bottom, Lydia stood over the OmniBox as though it were a dead body. A tall, curvy girl with ample hips and breasts, her curly brown hair spilling over her shoulders like...I don't know, brown hair...Lydia wore a blue pleated dress that stopped just above her knees and a pair of black, fur lined boots. She turned her head, and her brown pinched. Holding her hands out to the console, she spoke a single word. "Why?"

"Because Lean left her toys in the hall again," Gavin said as he came down the steps.

Lydia lifted her brow. "Blaming your little sister," she teased, "nice."

Normally, Gavin liked bantering with Lydia - of all of his relatives, he was probably closest to her. Growing up, she did the whole Mother Hubbard routine with him, and for a long time acted like he was a living baby doll, dressing him up, leading him around by the hand, feeding him bottles that didn't have anything in them, playing with him. Usually when he had a problem or needed advice, he'd go to her instead of his parents - that didn't happen too much anymore since he was older, but she was still a cool sis.

Right now, though, his OmniBox was busted and he was not in the mood. At the foot of the stairs, he bent and scooped up the battered remains of his beloved system: It was dented, cracked, and when he shook it, he could hear debris rattling around inside. Aw, man, it's even worse now.

Lydia leaned over and studied it. "I doubt it's going to work after that," she said at length.

Gavin nodded in acquiescence. No, it probably wouldn't; he'd have to get a part time job and work six months just to buy a new one. Ugh. Screw that.

Then he remembered. Duh. He had a secret weapon. Uncle Fester. "I'm gonna see if Fester can fix it."

Lydia's lips pursed. "I really wish you guys would stop calling him that. It's mean."

"Yeah, sorry," Gavin said absently over his shoulder as he went back up the stairs. Fester was a genius, so it shouldn't be too big a deal, right? At his uncle's door, he lifted his fist to knock, but paused. Oh, man, now that I'm here I'm flagging. I won't lie, this guy scares me. There's honestly something wrong with him, and I swear to God, one day you're going to turn on the news and see something about a mad, cackling supervillain in a giant robot destroying downtown Detroit. Lester Loud, local eccentric and possible psychopath, is currently wreaking havoc in the streets, killing anyone who gets in his way. We advise you to seek shelter immediately.

As long as he fixes my Omnibox, I really don't care what he does.

He knocked, and waited for a moment, his stomach swirling with dread. He knocked again, and before he'd even drawn his hand back, the door wrenched open and Lester appeared, his eyes narrowed behind his lank bangs. Gavin fell back a step, and Lester came forward, his hand curled tightly around the knob like he was going to rip it off and shove it down Gavin's throat.

Being a professional my-research-is-so-important-I-can't-break-away type, Lester rarely bathed, or washed his clothes, and his ripe, sour scent jammed itself into Gavin's nostrils, making his eyes water. Cor blimey, that's bad. It's almost like something died, came back long enough to shit itself, then died again.

Lester tossed his bangs out of his face, and Gavin could have sworn he saw drops of grease flying through the air. "What do you want?" His voice was low, menacing, and his eyes -oh, God, his eyes were so dark they were black. Gavin licked his lips and tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come.

The older boy stared at him for a moment, brows knitted.

"H-Hey, Uncle Fe - Lester. I-I need some help."

Lester's eyes darted down to the console in Gavin's hands, then back to Gavin's face, the corners of his lips twitching up in a malicious smile. "What do we have here?" he asked. "Seems your idiot box met with an unfortunate fate."

Two unfortunate fates, actually. "It wasn't working when I turned it on...then I dropped it down the stairs."

Lester grinned smugly. "Of course you did." Wicked merriment danced in his eyes, and Gavin looked away, unable to hold his gaze. "You'd like me to take time from very busy schedule to repair it, wouldn't you?" The last two words came as sharp accusation.

Eh, well, uh….Gavin shrugged. "I-If you can't, that's okay, I was just, you, if you had time." He forced a sheepish grin.

Seeming to think for a moment, Lester waggled his bushy eyebrows. "Alright. Give it here."

Gavin blinked in surprise. "Y-You're going to fix it?"

He honestly didn't expect this.

"Yes, I'll fix it." He held out one grubby hand. "Now give it here."

Grinning, Gavin handed the system over. "Thanks, Uncle Lester, you're the best."

His grin dropped when Lester pinched his cheek - hard. His fingers were slimy and warm. Ew, ew, ew, "Anything for my darling nephew," he said, his voice oozing sarcasm. With that, he drew back into his room and slammed the door, Gavin catching a flash of a lit computer screen and something floating in a jar...it looked like a dead cat.

Weird.

But, none of my business. With a spring in his step, he turned and went back to his room; he did not hear the evil laughter emanating from behind Lester's door...

Of all the places in Royal Woods you could possibly hold a birthday party...they chose The Pizza Dugeon. *Hangs head* You know, the same place that was the target of an Action News 5 investigation last year, the same place where used condoms wound up in the pizza dough, roaches infested the kitchen, and dead rats littered the bottom of the ball pit, the same place that was owned be an evil, heartless corporation that underpaid its employees and taught them down to use welfare because giving someone a decent living wage is socialist or something.

That Pizza Dungeon.

And people still came here.

Lora Loud didn't understand it, she really didn't, but that's Royal Woods for you- the dumbest little town in America. Sitting at a table with her legs crossed and her face resting in her upturned palm, she drew a heavy sigh and watched the stage, where Dino the Hip Hop Dragon, TPD's esteemed mascot, jumped and screamed his way through a bizarre and not wholly unpleasant metal cover of The Wheels on the Bus. She blew of a puff of air that rustled the bangs of her pageboy cut hair and glanced at Leah, who sat across from her looking dejectedly at her pizza. A slender girl with dirty blonde hair in a sideways ponytail that laid limp across her shoulder, Leah had the clearest and most beautiful hazel eyes Lora had ever seen, and right now they brimmed with sadness.

"You can go play if you want," Lora said and glanced at the ball pit, where all of the other kids had congregated, laughing, pushing, and flopping around like inmates in an asylum. She spotted aunt Lizy talking to the mother of the birthday girl, and Lean picking up balls and launching them at her friends' faces. Her aim wasn't very good, but the ones she stuck didn't look like they felt too good.

Leah shook her head. "I wouldn't be caught dead in there."

Her voice lacked conviction.

"Why not?" Lora asked. "It looks fun." She glanced over as a little girl tackled Lean and both of them disappeared beneath a wave of multicolored balls. A little boy climbed the mesh wall, hung from one hand, slapped his elbow, and did some kind of wrestling move, landing on another little boy who lie prone. She winced and looked away.

Maybe she was better off staying here.

Alone.

With her boring nineteen-year-old sister; they could talk about the journalism course she was taking at the community college, and about her political activism. Those are topics of fascination to nine-year-old girls, right?

Of course not. They were to Lora when she was that age, but she wasn't the norm - she watched the news for fun and read biographies of William Randolph Hearst and Walter Cronkite. She wasn't exactly an authority on having a good time unless it involved either politics or current events, but she knew what lame was, and hanging out at a table with your older sister at a birthday party while everyone else plays is pretty lame.

Leah sighed. "They're all loud, annoying, and gross."

Ah, I see. Leah's mother, Leia (original, huh? She said I couldn't give her my name, so I gave her the next best thing) was...well...she was what those monsters on 4chan might call a princessfag - pink, girly, proper. She treated her daughter as though she were, too, but Lora knew for a fact that she was a total closet tomboy. She caught a snail once, and though she tried to hide it, Lora walked in on her letting it slither along her arm and giggling at the "gross" sensation of its slime trailing across her skin. There was also the time Lora found her sitting down to tea with her stuffed animals - instead of cookies or scones, a big dish full of mud and wiggling worms sat in the middle of the table. Uh, I can explain, Leah had said.

I guess playing in the ball pit isn't what ladies do, Lora thought. If so, fuck being a lady - ball pits weren't really her thing, but she'd rather that than play the part of a stereotypical bourgeois girl.

She leaned forward and laid her hands on the table. "You want to know a secret?" she asked.

Leah looked up, her brow furrowing. "What?"

"It's okay to stop being prim and proper and have fun." She flashed a warm smile, and Leah looked down at her plate again. "You know that, right?"

At length, the little girl shrugged. "Yeah," she mumbled noncommittally.

"Then go do it," Lora said.

Onstage, Dino, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses and a red bandanna tied behind his forehead, did a perfect moonwalk followed by an impressive backflip. A group of kids clustered around, dancing and pumping their fists. "Y'all niggas want some G-Unit?" he screamed into the mic. The kids cheered that they did, and he started to bob his head while throwing up gang signs with his free hand.

Everywhere I go I got a tag along

'Cause my buzz gettin' strong and they mad I'm on

He ride with me when I'm past the mall

Wait for me on the bench when I'm running a game of basketball

One squeeze will make a bastard fall

Gasp and crawl

You need a bulletproof vest mask and all

Lora sighed. Why they let this guy sing misogynistic rap songs that promoted violence, the degradation of women, and the gangster lifestyle, she would never know. Her grandpa always said The Pizza Dungeon didn't make any sense and you'd drive yourself crazy if you thought about it; he was right.

"I just…" Leah trailed off. "It makes me feel, like...awkward." She looked up and scrunched her lips to one side. "Like…" she turned her head to the side, face away. "Like I'm doing something wrong."

Dino walked across the stage on one hand, the mic clutched in the other. The crowd went wild.

Infrared beam and a scope for distance

The best company when approaching business

He will ride with me 'til the end

We all got a friend and mine is a G-U-N

Lora's heart broke into a million little pieces, then a cosmic capitalist jackboot stomped them into the ground. "Oh, honey," she said and reached across the table, taking her sister's hand in hers and squeezing. "You're a kid. There's nothing wrong with acting like a kid and not...stuck up." She was going to say a stuck up bitch like your mother. Aunt Leia wasn't a bad person, but she was kind of stuck-up. Her hair and makeup were always perfect, and her French tipped nails never touched anything dirty, gross, or disgusting. She was too good for things like hard work and reading and mingling with the rabble. Like, wow, okay, Marie Antoinette. Lora couldn't help disliking the woman - while she, at eighteen, was on a Greenpeace mission in Guatemala digging ditches so poor villagers could have clean water, Leia was laid up in a spa with cold cream on her face and cucumber slices covering her eyes. The world, Lora had learned, was a big, scary place where terrible, awful things happen, and you can either do your part to improve it, you can do your part to make it worse...or you can sit on your ass and watch it burn. Leia was one to sit and watch it burn.

Actually, scratch that - Leia was too absorbed in her little material world to watch the real one burn.

She was also hurting her daughter with her expectations.

Dino shrugged his shoulders and leaned back in a poised Crip walk.

Niggas know I got new friends so they stay in their place, kid

I stay screaming on niggas and beating up baseheads

These niggas ain't thorough, they just like to pretend

Keep fucking 'round they gon' say hello to my little friend

Leah's eyes briefly met Lora's, then darted away. "I just feel like everyone's looking at me funny when I do that stuff."

That stuff. Translation: Act like a normal nine-year-old. Lora started to speak, but an idea struck her, and she smiled. "How about this?" She leaned in conspiratorially, and Leah shrank back a little. "We'll go play. You and me. Everyone will be so focused on the grown woman that they won't even notice you."

Leah snorted as though she found the image of Lora playing in the ball pit amusing. To be fair, it was kind of funny - and the looks she'd get! Not that she really cared; she lived her life according to her own desires, and if she desired to cut loose and act like an overgrown kid, what of it? Everywhere you go, everything you do, someone is going to judge you, someone is going to think you're wrong, so why not live the way you want? If you're going to get flak, might as well get it doing something that makes you happy.

And right now, seeing her little sister happy would make Lora happy.

She threaded her fingers through Leah's and nodded toward the ball pit. "Come on," she said and got up. Leah resisted, but Lora tugged. "Come on," she repeated.

"No," Leah said, but she was grinning, "leave me alone."

"Not until you have fun," Lora said. "Don't make me yank you out of that booth. I'm stronger than I look."

Rolling her eyes and sighing exaggeratedly, Leah got up and allowed herself to be dragged across the restaurant, her eyes going to Dino, who made a gun with his thumb and forefinger and pointed it directly at her.

And when there was beef, you even played your position

Got under the seat until we spotted our victim

A shver raced down her spine and she whipped her head away. Every kid who ever set foot in here loved Dino, but not her - he was scary. At the last birthday party she went to, he came over, knelt down, took her hand, and started singing Girl, You Know It's True. She liked gross things, but that was a little too gross even for her.

Remember it was broad daylight in the middle of New York

And little did they know that we was ready for war

Bet the nigga wish he never stuck his head out the door

At the entrance to the ball pit, Lora ducked and glanced back over her shoulder. Leah looked uncomfortable, but was that a flicker of hope in her eyes? Lora thought it was, and it made her smile. "Last one in's a rotten egg." She released Leah's hand and scurried through the opening; her foot caught on something and she fell face first into the balls with a muffled umph. You wouldn't think soft bits of plastic would hurt, but ow, they really did.

Leah laughed so hard she nearly cried, and Lora shot her a faux-dirty look. "Splat!" Leah said and laughed harder, her hands fluttering to her stomach as if to keep her sides from splitting. Lora snickered a little, too. It was kind of funny.

"You think you could do better?" she asked archly.

"Uh, yeah," Leah said. "I cheerlead, remember?"

Lora rolled. "Oh, right," she teased, "you stand there and shake those frilly things."

"They're called pom poms," Leah said defensively, "and there's a lot more to it than that."

When the first one get out, the next one go

To know where you headed, you got to know where you been

The Glock stay with me, we friends 'til the end

Lora picked up and ball and threw it at the mesh separating her and Leah. "Show me, then," she said.

The little girl's face set determinedly, and she climbed in, then hopped down into the pit, the balls coming half way up her thighs. "There," she said smugly and crossed her arms.

Rolling her eyes again, Lora picked up a ball and threw it at her face: It hit her square on the nose and bounced to one side. Leah's face crinkled, and Lora laughed. "There," she said in a nasally imitation of Leah's voice. Leah fixed her with a deadly glare, then stooped down, picked up a ball herself, and flung it; crying out, Lora threw up her hands to shield her face, but the ball caught her on the chin anyway. Leah's delighted laughter told her that she'd accomplished her mission. Good one, Lor.

"You know what this means, don't you?" she asked.

"What?"

She picked up another ball and grinned. "War."

Leah grabbed one in each hand and returned her grin. "Bring it on."

Gavin sat back in his chair with a sigh and glanced at the clock: 1 pm. Lester was going on two hours with the OmniBox, which seemed like a really long time, since he saw Lester once repair a broken computer modem in, like, half an hour. And when I say broken, I mean in a little pile of dust. He looked at the notebook open on the desk before him and scrunched his lips to the side: There was a hand drawn map on one page and chicken scrawl on the one facing - even he had to squint and tilt his head to read it. Sheesh, my handwriting sucks. He knew that, since everyone saw fit to tell him, but usually he could at least decipher it.

Then again, he hands didn't usually shake like he was a junkie feening for a hit; if he didn't get his OmniBox back soon, he'd wind up curled in a fetal position on the bathroom room and convulsing like a heroin addict going into withdrawal. He licked his lips, and they were dry, too dry, putting him mind of a fish shriveling up in the sun.

Come on, Fester, I'm dying here!

He briefly considered going to check on his progress, but decided against it: Unc would probably fly into a rage or something. How darest thy bother thee during thine endeavors. He snickered. Lester didn't talk like that, but his mom kind of did: Lots of big, technical words for small, everyday things...which always intrigued him. Why call it sodiumpetrohydratesupercalifragilisticexpialidocious when you can just call it a tomato like literally everyone else, even Einstien? Or did Einstein speak that way? Hm. Gavin didn't know - he read a little about him, but if we're talking famous people here, Gavin was waaaay more into video game designers, like Shigeru Miyamoto, the guy behind Super Mario 64. :O Face: one the best games ever. That guy was a legend and Gavin wanted to be just like him...except not quite as Asian. Not that there was anything wrong being Asian, just...you know...he was already pretty used to being a white dude, why change horses in the middle of a race?

Speaking of white dudes, James Rolfe was cool too. You know, the Angry Video Game Nerd. He used to do reviews of shitty games on YouTube and rant and rave about how much they sucked - he was hilarious. A real national treasure. Too bad he got old and died. Sigh.

Died.

Like I'm going to do if Fester doesn't hurry up and fix my OmniBox.

He licked his lips again - still dry. A drunk jonesing for a drink. Better go wet my whistle; that'll kill some time. He got up and went down stairs, throwing a hateful glance at Lean's train. I oughta hide it from her. Teach her a lesson about leaving her stuff everywhere.

Pft. Fat chance of that working: Lean was the biggest slob you ever met, worse even than aunt Loan. And her freaking obsession with trains. Go down in the basement and you'll see it: This huge train set winding around a little town with forests and hills and everything else. Dad and Grandpa built it with her last summer. It was cool, don't get me wrong, but yeah, this girl and trains. Sheesh. That's all she was about.

I guess I'm the same way. Shouldn't throw stones, I might damage my glass house. The little life bar in the corner is already pretty low; gotta conserve.

In the kitchen, he found Lydia and one of her friends sitting at the table studying. On a Saturday. Hey, I like making good grades too, but you have to relax sometimes. He opened the fridge and grabbed a Coke, then popped the lid and took a long drink. "Hey, Gav?" Lydia asked, and he turned; she was bent over her notebook, writing and scanning the page. "Next time you see Uncle Lester, can you tell him he has a package?"

"I can bring it -"

"It says highly volatile on it," she said, "I'd rather you didn't touch it. I didn't even want to touch it."

Oh. Well, yeah, I'd rather not touch it either, then. You know, it's funny - Fester was always getting strange stuff through the mail, stuff that Gavin assumed you're not exactly allowed to send through the mail: He wasn't certain, but he thought he saw his uncle pull a stick of plutonium out of a package once.

Suddenly, Gavin had the telltale skin-crawl feeling of being watched. Lydia's friend, Mia, was watching him with a sly smile, her eyes dancing with malicious light. A tall, thin black girl with long, straight hair, pouty, sensuous lips, and clad in a pink summer dress, she was hoooot...but, unless he was mistaken, that's the kind of look someone gives you when they're cooking up a wicked zinger at your expensive. Flushing, Gavin turned and hurried out - I get called Moe Howard enough at school, I can do without it in my own kitchen.

Upstairs, he ducked into his room...and froze. The OmniBox was sitting on his desk, gleaming in a spill of sunlight and looking like it just shipped off the assembly line. Gavin fisted his free hand bent his knees. "Thank God." You the man, Fester.

He went over, sat his can down, and picked the console up, turning it over in his hands and looking for the slightest sign of the calamity that befell it this morning. None. Not even a ding. How his uncle did it, he'd never know; that guy really is a genius.

Grinning ear to ear, Gavin carried the game over to the TV, knelt, and hooked it up - there's a lot of wires back here, they might cause a fire. I'll take care of it later. He rocked back on his knees, turned the TV on, and pressed the big green button on the front of the game.

ZAP!

Blinding white light filled the world, and a billion volts of hot agony shot up Gavin's arm; he cried out and fell back, his head whacking off the floor and the room spinning violently. Monstrous pain throbbed hotly in his hand, and tears filled his eyes.

Owwww, fuck! He bared his teeth and tried to make a fist, but howled when his muscles spasmed. He turned his head, and that's when he saw him: Fester standing in the doorway, shoulders hunched and head down, chin flush with his chest. Greasy black hair veiled his eyes, and a wide, gleaming smile ran across his pimply face.

He did it on purpose.

Gavin's hand pulsed, and he hissed through his teeth. "Why?" he asked, his voice small and broken, that of a child hurt by its guardian.

By way of response, Lester started to laugh, a breathy, evil, snorting chuckle that slowly swelled into a full on cackle. Gavin watched him through tear blurred eyes, his chest rising and falling as anger flooded him. Lester turned and started to walk away, chin still against his chest - he looked like a hunchback; an ugly, horrible, sadistic hunchback.

Gavin got woozily to his feet. "This is why no one likes you!" he heard himself scream. Then: "Fester!"

Lester came to a crashing halt, his shoulders tensing. He spun, and in his eyes Gavin saw fire...and instantly regretted his words. "You little bastard," he spat and stalked forward.

Gavin's heart leapt into his throat, but before he could scream for help, Lydia called up the stairs. "Gav? You okay?"

The flames in Lester's eyes flickered, and he pursed his lips; he locked his gaze with Gavin's, and for a moment they stared each other down, then Lydia appeared behind the sadist, her brows furrowed in concern. "What's going on?"

"Him!" Gavin said and jutted his chin toward his uncle.

Lydia looked at Fester. "I repaired his...toy...and there was a malfunction He seems to think I did it intentionally."

"You did!" Gavin said. "Y-You laughed!"

Lydia sighed. "Really, Gavin? He wouldn't do that."

"No, I wouldn't," Lester said, "and it hurts me that he thinks I would." With that, he turned and brushed past Lydia, who took a step after and called his name; he didn't stop until he went into his lab, the door slamming behind him.

Lydia turned, her lips puckered and her forehead pinched. She looked mad. Mad at Gavin. "You really believe him?" he cried. "Look at my hand!" He held it up, and she gasped: It was red and swollen, some of the hairs across his knuckles singed black.

"Oh, my God." She came in and grabbed his wrist, bringing it to her face for closer examination. "I-I should call an ambulance."

"No, it's fine -"

She released him, turned, and pulled her cellphone out. Gavin started to protest, but his muscles seized and he moaned.

Alright. Maybe the emergency room wasn't such a bad idea.