Work Text:
Harold stared down at the blank sheet of paper, his mouth pressed into a thin line as his mind drifted with thoughts that weren’t about comic-creation for once. He idly tapped his pencil against the floor, the motion familiar and comfortable to his ever-fidgeting hands. His brows furrowed a bit as his thoughts took troubling twists and turns for what felt like the tenth time that day.
“Harold?” George’s voice brought the boy back to the real world, “You okay? You’ve been staring at that paper for fifteen minutes.”
“Oh, uh,” Harold turned to his friend, a strained smile on his face, “I’m fine, just kind of… Distracted. I’ll get the next page done now.” He turned back down to the page and started scribbling out panels.
George quirked an eyebrow down at his friend. Harold had been acting weird since they had left school that day. Even before he said anything, George had this feeling in the back of his mind that something wasn’t quite right. Why his best friend was so upset was lost on George, but apparently, it was bad enough that not even the idea of a treehouse sleepover seemed to cheer him up. Clearly, this was a code-red situation.
George wracked his brain for anything that might have happened that day that could have upset Harold.
Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Well, nothing out of the ordinary for Jerome Horwitz, that is.
The weekly monster attack actually wasn’t that bad, their comic book sales were great at recess, and they had managed to use some fast talking and rule loopholes to avoid an unnecessary trip to Krupp’s office. All in all, it should have been a good day.
And yet Harold looked dejected and troubled.
“Okay. I guess we’re doing this.” George sighed, climbed out of the hammock, and snatched Harold’s paper once his pencil had been lifted
“Wha- Hey!” Harold reached for it but George held it out of his reach. “What are you doing?!”
“Your heart clearly isn’t in it today, Harold.” George said, inspecting the first few panels Harold had drawn. They were good, but not his usual good. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Harold’s mouth pressed into a thin line again, “I’m fine, it’s stupid anyway. Can we just work on the comic?”
“No, I’m your best friend and as your best friend it’s my job to make sure you’re okay.” George frowned, “You know you can tell me anything, right? I promise I won’t laugh if its embarrassing.”
“…” Harold bit his lip, falling into silence as he weighed his options. Eventually, he sighed and nodded. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you. Just give me the paper.”
George gave Harold the paper back and crossed his arms. He fixed his friend with an expectant look. Harold took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair.
“Do you ever wonder why every comic we write seems to come to life?” Harold finally asked. George looked at him with a blank expression which quickly transformed into a confused one.
“What are you taking about?” He scratched the back of his neck.
“George, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed!” Harold sat up and adjusted himself so he was sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Every week our school gets attacked by monsters, and every week those monsters turn out to be the ones from our comics!”
“Not really,” George put a hand to his chin, “The origins don’t line up, for one. It’s just a bunch of coincidences that make them seem like our monsters from our comics. Some of the teachers read the comics, get angry, and take on the character out of spite too. It’s not our fault.”
“I thought that too, but…” Harold shrunk in on himself, recalling a memory from earlier that day, “Just because the origins don’t line up doesn’t mean they don’t copy the monster almost perfectly when it comes to powers and strength. And it happens so often too! I’m pretty sure they’re going to start adding Monster Drills to the mandatory Fire Drills soon. And then Melvin…” The blonde boy’s voice died in his throat, suddenly unwilling to finish the sentence.
George ground his teeth together.
Melvin. Of course the know-it-all tattle tale had said something to upset Harold. He was always being a jerk towards them.
“What did Melvin say?” George’s eyes narrowed. Harold fidgeted more.
“He… He said that the monster attacks are all our fault and it’d be better for everyone if we stopped making our comics. He said that they’re only good for hurting people…” Harold’s eyes were glued to the floor.
“Seriously?” George scoffed and got to his feet, pacing around the treehouse to get out the angry energy that buzzed under his skin. “Melvin might know a lot of things, but when it comes to comics he doesn’t know anything!”
“But… He has a point?” Harold frowned, “It’s kind of freaky now that I think about it…”
“It’s all just a coincidence.” George denied again, “Dog Man never became real, did he?”
“Well… No, not that we know of.” The blonde boy shook his head.
“What about Timmy the Talking Toilet? The Amazing Cow Lady? Sad Worm?” George gestured to the homemade posters for all of these characters posted on the treehouse walls. Harold followed him with his eyes, his frown getting deeper.
“But Captain Underpants did.” He retorted, “Even if he is in Mr. Krupp’s body, he acts exactly like the Captain. He even has his superpowers! And I’m pretty sure superpowers weren’t a thing before any of this…?” Harold fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, a hundred questions hummed in his brain like an angry swarm of bees. “I don’t want to make comics if they just wind up hurting people…”
“Don’t say that!” George spun on his heel and grabbed Harold’s shoulders, giving them a little shake, “Melvin is just trying to mess with your head! He hates our comics, remember?”
“I… I guess that could be it…?” Harold met George’s eyes for half a second before looking away again, “But the monsters--!”
“Haven’t hurt anybody! And they never will! Cap always saves the day in the end!” George let go of Harold’s shoulders and tried to muster up a reassuring smile. “Sure some people might get a few bumps or scrapes, but nobody ever needs a trip to the hospital.”
“Yet.” Harold stressed, “Today’s attack was really bad, George. Mr. Meaner almost got turned into paste. Literally! He had to spend the rest of the day in the nurse’s office.”
“That’s his own fault for not listening to us when we told him to run.” George sighed, “You’d think the teachers would actually listen to the two kids who help Captain Underpants stop the monsters on a weekly basis…”
The two boys fell silent after that. George pondered the situation while Harold turned over his friend’s reasoning in his head. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, George spoke up.
“If it makes you feel any better, I highly doubt next week’s issue is going to attack us.” George said with a small smile.
Harold quirked a brow, “What makes you say that?”
“The bad guy for the next issue is gonna be a living used-tissue ghost. The Phantom Flu!” George’s hesitant smile turned into a genuine one as he climbed back into the hammock and showed Harold his notebook. “There’s no way he’ll show up in real life! He’s a harmless little tissue who gives people a cold. Nothing to anger any teachers or fellow students, or give Melvin any ideas for new inventions, or anything. Phantom Flu is going to stay in the book.”
“You think so?” Harold asked as he looked back down at the unfinished page.
“I know so!” George was confident, and that confidence helped comfort Harold a great deal. A knot in his chest seemed to come undone and he could already feel the creative energy starting to flow again.
“Okay…” Harold smiled at his best friend, “Let’s get to work, then.”
Phantom Flu did not stay in the book.
Things had been going well (for a Monday). Apparently, someone (not George and Harold amazingly) broke the coffee machine in the teachers’ lounge when no one was looking, leaving all of the teaching staff extremely tired. Ms. Ribble wound up sleeping through most of their math class, she only woke up because Melvin started freaking out over not having any homework. Ms. Ribble, however, was not the kind of adult who enjoyed being woken up. She had gotten so caught up in her tired scolding of Melvin she didn’t even notice she had run out of time to assign math homework until the lunch bell rang.
Students poured out of the room with loud cheers, eager to get through lunch and hurry to recess.
At recess, the boys distributed their comic to all their usual buyers and even picked up a few new readers (Fifth Graders, that’s a big deal). The playground was filled with laughter as children ran to and fro, playing games or reading the newest edition of Captain Underpants.
And then gym class happened.
Going a whole day without at least one prank was difficult for the boys. While it was shaping up to be a relatively good day, it was still Jerome Horwitz, the worst school on earth. So the boys thought it would be fun to hide all the dodge balls and replace them with water balloons. The gym descended into wet chaos upon the student’s discovery of the balloons. Mr. Meaner tried to get things under control only to be soaked in seconds.
Melvin was also mercilessly attacked when he attempted to leave the gym and tattle.
However, the fun was soon cut short by the sudden appearance of a bunch of flying glowing beings who looked like tissue ghosts, dripping green ooze and announcing their invasion.
A few of the kids immediately got hit by the beings’ gooey attack and broke down into fits of sneezes before falling into a zombie-like trance… Just like in the comic.
George and Harold shared a look.
“He’s gonna stay in the book, huh?” Harold griped.
“Now is not the time!” George snapped as he grabbed his friend’s wrist and yanked him out of the way just in time to avoid another goo blast from one of the monsters.
Both boys burst out of the gym, pursued by this week’s villain as they made a beeline for Mr. Krupp’s office.
The rest, as they say, was history.
They snapped their fingers, helped the Captain, and shot the Terrible Tissues back into the stars they descended from.
But the celebrating of students and teachers on the school’s front lawn was cut short when suddenly--
“You promised!” The angry voice of Harold Hutchins broke through the cheering, killing the happy mood almost instantly. “You promised me it wouldn’t happen again this week!”
“Sorry I don’t have future vision, Harold!” George countered, unaware that the two boy’s argument was being witnessed by a good portion of the school. “How was I supposed to know there was an entire evil alien race that just so happened to look like our villain?! How was I supposed to know they would decide to invade this week?!”
“No, you can’t deny and say it’s just coincidence anymore!” Harold put his hands to his hips, “Tissues who blow mind-control snot is way too specific to just be coincidence--!”
“Hey, he’s right!” One of the students piped up, and it was here that both boys realized their disagreement had an audience… And by the look of realization that was slowly rippling through the crowd, it seemed that everyone was starting to make the same connections Harold had.
“The monsters that show up every week are from their comic books!” A third-grader exclaimed, voicing everybody’s thoughts.
“I’ve already put those two points together.” Melvin explained, “The math lines up, the probability of a new monster attacking the school every time those two make one of their comics is ninety-nine point one percent.”
George and Harold very quickly found themselves under the judgmental stares of their teachers and peers. The teachers looked at them with anger, of course, because they wound up being the monsters half the time and causing property damage. Meanwhile, the students looked at them with a mix of awe or disgust, like they were a couple of circus freaks on display for jeering masses.
“Wha-- You can’t be serious?!” George felt righteous fury building up in his chest. The feeling of something beneath his skin boiling with his rage and threatening to pop should anyone push him any further. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart one, Melvin! How can comic books come to life?!”
“How am I supposed to know? Well – actually – I do have a vague idea for a machine that can bring drawings to life, but this is totally different from that.” The red-head sneered, stepping forward to meet George’s threatening body language with an air of superiority. “I don’t know how you two do it, but the math doesn’t lie. You two are no doubt the source for our school’s frequent attacks, maybe even all the odd happenings all over Piqua! Coincidence only goes so far. Once is chance, twice is coincidence, three times is a pattern, and anything over that? Is a guarantee!”
The next few events happened too fast for George to fully register.
Something within him snapped at Melvin’s proud exclamation that they were the ones at fault and next thing he knew his arm was moving on its own. His fist made contact with Melvin’s nose, causing the plastic frames of his glasses to snap. Helping the Captain deal with monsters on a weekly basis had definitely taught George how to throw a punch and throw it hard. While both boys weren’t muscular, they definitely had gained a bit more strength thanks to the frequent “work outs” (read as: running around dealing with threats and implementing crazy plans to stop said threats).
He was vaguely aware of Harold grabbing onto his shirt to hold him back, which was good, because all George wanted to do in that moment was wipe that smug self-righteous grin off of Melvin’s face. Though Melvin wasn’t doing much grinning as he was sent careening to the ground, clutching a now bloody nose with one hand and pointing at him with the other.
“He punched me!” Melvin tattled, though it was kind of unnecessary due to the entire school already watching.
Kids broke out into cheers and jeers, some started chanting “Fight! Fight! Fight!” in order to fuel the quickly escalating conflict. Teachers started shouting and trying to maneuver through the thick crowd of students in order to, surprisingly, do their jobs for once.
And then George and Harold found the ground pulled out from under their feet as the Captain swooped in from left field and dragged the two boys up, up and away.
“Sidekicks!” Captain Underpants sounded surprised and distressed, “Are you alright?! What was that all about?!”
Both boys clung to him tightly but trusted him not to drop them as he flew over familiar streets toward their treehouse.
“Melvin’s a jerk.” George bit out, his rage still simmering and desperate for an outlet. “And he’s wrong. It’s not our fault!”
Harold didn’t reply. Didn’t even look George or the Captain in the eye in favor of watching the passing scenery below.
“Anti-Humor Boy may be annoying, yes, he is still a civilian. While I applaud your excellently thrown punch, it should not be toward those who are unable to properly defend themselves.” Captain said as they touched down in front of the treehouse. Captain Underpants set them down gently on the grass, George still fuming and Harold still disturbingly silent.
Something in the Captain’s gut twisted. He wasn’t sure what it was, call it a sixth sense maybe, but ever since meeting George and Harold there was just… Something about the two boys - An aura? A strange energy? - that set them aside from the other humans around them.
When they worked together, that energy almost seemed to sing around them, bringing joy, laughter, and playful mischief wherever they went. However, this was his first time actually feeling them conflicting, like trying to mix oil and water. It felt wrong. Unpleasant. Sort of how he felt whenever he was forced to disguise himself as a principle. The clothes clung to his skin and made him feel claustrophobic. This feeling radiating off of the two boys was similar, only it felt like the claustrophobia was under his skin, constricting his soul.
“I’m making Melvin the villain of our next issue.” George announced, hands still tightly wound up in fists before turning and marching towards the treehouse.
“No!” Harold grabbed his wrist, “Did you seriously not learn anything from today?! If you do that, then Melvin--!”
“We’re not the bad guys, Harold!” George snapped back, “We were just doing our own thing, making comic books, having fun, until—until things got all weird after we used the Hypno Ring!”
“You used the Hypno Ring, actually.” Harold pointed out.
“But you were the one who told me to do something!”
“Mysterious ring…” Captain Underpants muttered and put a hand to his chin. George and Harold’s argument continued, but it faded into the background as the Captain’s usually very simple mind was suddenly filled with some very complicated thoughts. “Strange events that can’t be coincidences. The strange events somehow being tied to both of you… Hmmm…” One could practically see the gears turning in his head.
And then it struck him. Literally, in this case, as an acorn fell on his head. It seemed to jog something though as the Captain loudly proclaimed.
“I’ve GOT IT!”
George and Harold’s argument paused at the Captain’s shouting. They both fixed the superhero with an odd look.
“Got what?” George quirked an eyebrow.
“Do not worry, sidekicks, I know exactly what this is.” Captain put his hands on his hips, a proud smile on his face as he puffed out his chest.
“You do?” Harold’s eyes went wide, a small seed of hope shimmered behind them.
“Yes! There can only be one explanation for this series of odd events centered around you two boys, and that…” He paused for dramatic effect before leaning in close. The next words were hushed but riddled with barely contained excitement. “Is an Origin Story.”
Both boys blinked in confusion, totally baffled by what the Captain had just said.
“Who’s origin story?” Harold didn’t recall any of their previous comics having such a weird plot.
“YOURS!” He jumped up gesturing at the both of them. “This is a textbook Origin Story if I ever saw one! Young seemingly normal boys with special gifts that they don’t realize they have! Then-- BOOM! POW! -- Something crazy happens that flings them into adventure and their undiscovered gifts start going haywire! Of course, I would be your dashingly handsome mentor who helps you discover your abilities and honing them...” He ran a hand through his nonexistent hair.
Both boys stared at him for a good long moment. Processing what exactly Captain Underpants was suggesting…
And then bursting out into laughter.
“Captain Underpants,” George wheezed, “Harold and I don’t have superpowers.”
“Yeah, we’re not from another planet and we didn’t get dunked in goo or anything!” Harold pitched in. “We’re just normal kids.”
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong!” Captain, completely unfazed, grinned down at them. “Just because you might not share my origin, or have gotten powers through other more obvious means, doesn’t mean you weren’t born with something! You both might not realize it now, but there’s something deep within you!”
“Guts…?” Harold guessed.
“Deeper!” Captain’s dopey grin didn’t falter.
“Blood?” George’s brows furrowed together.
“Even deeper!” Replied the Captain.
“… Gas?” Both boys said at the same time, causing the Captain to laugh.
“You’ll understand. When the world needs your gifts the most, you’ll discover them!” The man spoke as if he had seen this exact scenario a hundred times before.
(What George and Harold didn’t know was that, in Krupp’s younger years, he was an avid comic book fan. Unfortunately, he no longer had his prized collection due to an unfortunate series of events. Boxes upon boxes filled with stories of characters who all followed the Hero’s Journey in some way or another. While he may not be as big a collector as he was when he was younger, a lot of those stories still stuck with him.)
“But for now, it is time to patrol!” Captain Underpants turned on his heel and started marching away, fully intending to fly away. “See you later, sidekicks--!”
Just as George and Harold were getting ready to try to convince him to stay and not get into trouble, the sprinklers for the backyard turned on and proceeded to spray the Captain, turning him back into Krupp. Their principle sputtered, shaking the water from himself in a daze before he realized he was indecent in public again and ran off without so much as noticing the two boys.
George and Harold sighed, the exhaustion built up throughout the day finally settled in their bones.
“C’mon, let’s go do something.” George nudged Harold toward the treehouse. The blonde lagged behind somewhat.
“Um, hey, George?” Harold’s voice was laced with nervousness and uncertainty, two things George wasn’t used to hearing from his friend when talking to him. “Do… Do you think maybe we could skip making a new comic? J-Just for next week! Like an experiment.”
George’s mouth pressed into a thin line. He was clearly conflicted. On one hand, he loved making comics too much to just quit. On the other, it was just for one week, and if a monster did show up, then he could rub it in Melvin’s face that his stupid math was wrong.
“Alright.” George nodded, “We’ll take a break for a week and see what happens.”
Harold relaxed, but something within George grew anxious. As if stopping their usual routine of comic production was a mistake somehow.
Well, maybe, it would be fine. It wasn’t like the world was going to end if they decided to take a brief hiatus to do other stuff. Yeah. It wasn’t like the school would get attacked by… By…
(As George ascended into the treehouse, Harold close on his heels, he failed to notice the itching in the back of his skull.)
By crazy radioactive lab rats unleashed by Melvin because he was angered by one of the teachers accidentally giving him an A- on a pop quiz….
Okay, that was freakishly specific…
But also might make for a good story!
While he promised Harold they wouldn’t do a comic, George hadn’t promised he wouldn’t at least write ideas down. So George got to work writing down the story idea in his notebook while Harold busied himself by sifting through the board game stack in the corner.
Maybe the Evil Rats could be the next issue for the week after. It would be nice having the writing part done early anyway. That way they could focus on making the art even more amazing.
George was sure everything was going to be alright and that definitely, for sure, nothing crazy would happen next week…
(Unfortunately, that would not exactly be the case.)