Work Text:
January 13th, 1974. 11:53 PM
Red Corn Man had just come from the kitchen with a plate of quiche when she was met with the sight of her wife Partholomew sitting in the dining room chair, elbows on the table and face in her hands. She slowly dragged her hands down and shot Red Corn Man a look cold as ice.
Partholomew opened her mouth to talk before clamping it closed as her eyes eased down the hall, towards Jerry's bedroom where he was sound asleep. Without explanation, she pushed out of the chair and grabbed Red Corn Man by her leafy arm, dragging her to the living room.
Red Corn Man settled in her recliner and cautiously eyed her lover, while Partholomew seated herself on the couch, a small wooden coffee table acting as a divider between the two.
They sat in silence for a few moments, stirring up Red Corn Man's anxiety. The atmosphere had already been tense as of late, sure, but usually they'd at least manage to get a couple gritted civil words in before things completely devolved. Put on strained smiles and pretend everything was okay, even if for a little while. This? This was different. Now Partholomew sat across from her, arms folded, brows creased and stern and foreboding.
"We need to talk," she said, voice low.
Red Corn Man shifted from the intensity of the statement. "About what?"
"I want a divorce, Red."
She tried to scoff but it came out as a breathy, desperate laugh. "You're joking, right?"
"I'm not, I- I can't keep doing this. I can't keep coming home to see you washing blood off your mouth. I can't keep- keep opening the fridge to half a dozen severed arms," Partholomew's voice raised to a choked yell, "I can't look at our son every day knowing what he went through! That- that he has to live in a house with the person that ripped his arm off!"
The rosed lady was stunned. "What about my species?! Do you just expect me to-"
"We're your species now! We're your family, we're- you don't get to do this. You don't get to do this to us! It's like you don't even care!"
Red's eyes shot wide. "Don't give me that," she muttered, each word a struggle to get out. "Don't give me that. You know better than anyone else the sacrifices I made!"
The no entry signed lady wasn't having it. "No! You don't get to-"
"Mamas?" a little voice piped.
The couple's heads whipped around and settled on the small platypus.
He cowered halfway behind the doorway and gripped his Jeddy Jear tight. "Are you fighting?..."
Parthy's eyes softened into something subdued and sad. "Everything's alright, duck. Go back to bed."
Jerry took a couple steps out and shook his head hectically. "I don't want you to fight." The poor boy sounded on the verge of tears. Red Corn Man took a step forward and reached a hand out to comfort him, but the boy quickly shied away and darted towards Parthy.
Clinging on tight to the hem of her skirt with frightened, teary eyes, he looked at Red, down to the nub where his arm used to be, and looked back again, the tears threatening to spill over. "Please don't take my other arm, mama!" he cried.
Red Corn Man's heart shattered. "It was only the one arm, sweetheart," she soothed frantically, stumbling over her words. "No more, okay? I won't rip your other arm off."
Evidently he didn't buy it and shrunk further into the fabric, burying his face as though that'd keep him from the scary arm-ripping monster before him. Parthy held him close with a hand and eventually looked back up, expression turning from somber to scathing in a second. "Look what you're doing to him," she growled noentryily.
"Jerry, honey, I'll- I'll," Red twitched a hand up and down as she tried for words that wouldn't come. Some explanation. Then this Red Corn Man had a lightbulb moment. "I'll get you ice cream."
This piqued his attention, and he cautiously withdrew from the safety of Parthy's skirt. "For real?"
"My treat," Red affirmed with a gentle smile. She crouched down and put her arms out to offer an embrace.
Jerry wiped his beak with a loose sleeve and began stumbling forward, much to Parthy's dismay.
The sign tugged him back by the collar of his jammies. "I'll- I'll get you Little Caesar's!"
Jerry considered it for a second. "H-how many pizzas?"
"As many as you want."
Jerry started counting. He held up his index finger, "One," he said. He held up his middle finger along with his index finger, "Two." Jerry flipped up his ring finger, "Three," and then his pinky finger, "Four." Then he drew out his thumb, "Five," and was about to swap hands before his face darkened for a second, and he began again on his right hand. He held up his index finger, "Six," he said. He held up his middle finger along with his index finger, "Seven." Jerry flipped up his ring finger, "Eight."
"Eight pizzas it is."
Red Corn Man bared her teeth, fuming. "How's that any good for him?! Eight pizzas? You're gonna give him high cholesterol with a diet like that!"
"Oh," Parthy's hands clenched into fists, "I'm sorry, what'd you have in mind again? What was it, ice cream for life?"
Red Corn Man's face went red with ballistic rage. "You're putting words in my mouth!"
"Bet it isn't as many words as there've been arms in there!" Parthy hissed.
"Bet there hasn't been as much alcohol in here!" Red Corn Man spat back.
Parthy's face twisted into shock, then into rage.
Just as Red Corn Man opened her mouth to keep arguing, Parthy let a fist fly...
The world started moving in slow motion.
Red Corn Man had a bite force of forty thousand newtons, making it particularly difficult to open her jaw with ease.
And to close it.
Parthy's arm came closer and closer, and the horror began to settle on the sign's face as she realized where she had aimed it.
It was too late to draw it back. The destination was final.
Jerry started screaming.
Red Corn Man couldn't stop it.
POW!
rrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!
January 14th, 1974.
A woman by the name of Red C. Man called the Cheetah Village Police Station to report her darling wife was bleeding out on their living room floor, pleading for an ambulance. The wound proved fatal, as by the time they had arrived the No Entry Sign had been drained of all her blood, and was well beyond resuscitation. In a moment of grief and despair, Red C. Man confessed to the crime, and was promptly detained.
Initially we thought it was only her wife she had ripped the arm off of, but further investigation revealed she was responsible dismemberment of one thousand two hundred seventy seven individuals, presumably including her son Jerry, who has been silent on the matter. She's now been sentenced to fifty years in prison.
With his mother jailed and mentally unstable and foster care an unideal option for a kid his age, we've decided to put the child into the care of his uncle Jartholomew J. Tholomew and Mr. Tholomew's roommate, Log L. Loggington. They will be the temporary guardians of Jerry Cornthoroseomew until a willing adopter comes along or until they adopt the child themselves.
Just goes to show, you should never get divorced.