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“Oi! ‘ughie! It looks like we’re roomies, innit?” Butcher smirked at Hughie. The two were on a mission with Soldier Boy to take down one of Soldier Boy’s seven evil exes or whatever the plot was in season three. Hughie was glad to see that the wallpaper wasn't peeling at this motel. Maybe he would actually get a decent night's sleep!
“We’re all roommates, dipshit.” Soldier Boy grunted, shouldering past Butcher and Hughie on the way to the motel room. When the three got there, there was only a king size bed and an armchair to sleep on.
“Oi! Did tha’ ‘otel tart fink we was a gay polycule?” Butcher asked, scratching his head. Soldier Boy looked at Butcher in flabbergastedment.
“You two boners can spoon on the floor. I need my beauty sleep.” Soldier Boy grunted.
“Oi! You can’t do tha—”
“Watch me, you limey cocksucker.”
Hughie quickly stepped between them.
“Let’s draw straws!” He blurted out. Butcher and Soldier Boy shot him a glare before deciding.
“Shortest straw gets the chair.”
The three drew straws, and Butcher found himself sleeping on the armchair, while Hughie and Soldier Boy were sharing the bed. The three began to get ready to sleep. Butcher, being dirty as fuck, didn’t even brush his teeth before taking off his musty ass trenchcoat to use as a blankie. He played a couple rounds of Angry Birds with the sound up all the way. Hughie, who was waiting to get cleaned up while Soldier Boy hogged all the warm water, was starting to get annoyed with Butcher.
“Butcher, can you turn down the volume? I think I’m getting a migraine.” Hughie asked.
“Nuh-uh, mate. I’m about to beat this level.” Butcher mumbled, engrossed in his game.
“Butcher!”
“Oi! You done made me muck up the level ‘ughie! Now I gotta start over!” Butcher grumbled. The cackling of the birds on Butcher’s phone seemed to mock Hughie. At long last, Soldier Boy came out of the shower with a towel slung around his waist.
“Shower’s open!” He called out cheerfully.
“Fuckin’ finally.” Hughie raced into the bathroom and stripped, turning on the water. He was excited about this motel, because the bathroom looked clean in all the website photos. Hell, it looked clean right now! As he was about to step into the shower, he saw a colony of cockroaches congregated on one of the ledges.
“AAAAAHHHH!!!” Hughie screamed.
“Please mister, don’t kill us!” One of the roaches squeaked.
“Wait a minute, you can talk?” Hughie asked quietly.
“Sshhhh don’t let him hear you!” Another cockroach pleaded.
“What do you mean, him?” Hughie asked again.
“The soldier.”
Hang on, Soldier Boy?
“We lived deep in the nether forests for decades. Generations born and died without seeing the sunlight, but we are finally free. Please don’t kill us when we’ve barely tasted freedom!” A tiny cockroach begged.
Hughie pieced together that the nether forests were Soldier Boy’s pubic hairs. Gross! Did he really have a colony of cockroaches that lived in his pubic hair while he was asleep? How did he not notice? Granted, he was asleep for forty years, but even after? Hughie didn’t notice that man scratch his balls even once!
“So, what the fuck do I do now?” Hughie hissed, not wanting Butcher or Soldier Boy to know that he was having a full-on conversation with the super soldier’s former pube-roaches.
“We’re just going to go down the drain. Take a bath, don’t shower, otherwise you’ll drown us, okay?” The leader of the pube-roaches asked. Hughie nodded.
As he sat in the lukewarm bathwater, trying not to think about the fact that his bare ass was sitting on the tub where Soldier Boy’s stinky feet were moments prior, Hughie wondered if maybe he should have lied to the pube-roaches and took a shower anyway. Maybe Butcher was right, he was too soft for this life. Hughie scrubbed himself and unplugged the drain, getting out of the tub to brush his teeth. He dressed in his PJ’s and came out of the bathroom with his hair in a towel.
“Oi ‘ughie! Why’ve ya got ya ‘air in a turban like a bird?” Butcher guffawed.
“You look even more like a fairy than usual.” Soldier Boy snickered. Hughie threw his hair towel on the ground.
“Soldier Boy, did you know that you had a colony of talking roaches in your pubic hair?” Hughie spat.
“Oh yeah. I knew something was missing when I came out of the bathroom. Hopefully they know my P.O box address so they can send me a postcard or something.” Soldier Boy mused.
“An’ that’s why I don’t take showers. I can’t stand to see me pube-roaches say goodbye.”
Hughie gagged and got on his side of the bed. He couldn’t believe he was sharing a room with the nastiest men on planet Earth. He was even willing to bet money on them being the grossest men in the galaxy, even accounting for the possibility of alien life and hygiene habits. Hughie shoved his pillow over his ears to drown out the sounds of Butcher playing Angry Birds on his phone. At around 11:43 PM, Butcher finally fell asleep, and Hughie felt himself nodding off. An hour later, Hughie felt the covers get yanked off of him. He turned around to see Soldier Boy wrapping himself in the covers and mumbling about “what Clara would have wanted.” Who was Clara? Stormfront? Hopefully someone else who wasn’t a Nazi? All of a sudden, Soldier Boy’s leg met Hughie’s solar plexus, causing him to fly off the bed.
“Mmmm Clara, dada likey…” Soldier Boy mumbled in his sleep.
“Ow….” Hughie groaned. He looked over to Butcher who was also sleep talking.
“Oi ‘ughie…’omelander done killed me woif an’ took me bloody son…womp womp.” Butcher tossed and turned in the armchair.
“Wazzat Clara? You wanna third? At least he’s a real fuckin’ man, even if he is British.”
“Becca…ya didn’t tell me ya wanted a threesome wif Soldier Boy? Who am I to deny me li’l gumdrop?”
Hughie lay on the floor, looking from Soldier Boy to Butcher. Was there some kind of bluetooth dream connection where they were dreaming about inviting the other into a threesome? This was quickly becoming one of the most harrowing experiences Hughie ever had, and he had to listen to Soldier Boy talk about his threesome with Gary Busey. Then, the worst thing that could have possibly happened, happened.
Butcher and Soldier Boy farted.
At.
The.
Same.
Fucking.
Time.
Hughie’s heart hammered in his chest. Butcher and Soldier Boy ate nothing but processed food, booze, and Big Gulps since the start of the mission. It was only a matter of time before the vile stench of their combined flatulence killed Hughie. He covered his mouth with his shirt, feeling like a World War I soldier in the trenches, trying to avoid the mustard gas. He snatched a pillow and a blanket from the closet and sprinted into the bathroom. He used all the towels to cover the crack underneath the bathroom door, just as the foul stench hit his nostrils. Hughie panted, backing away from the door slowly.
“Oi, mister!” A high-pitched voice greeted him. Hughie turned around to see what was presumably another pube-roach.
“Not again!” Hughie hissed, desperate not to wake Butcher and Soldier Boy.
“Right. Don’t want to wake the sleeping giants, eh? Why don’t ya make yaself comfy and cozy in the tub, innit?” When Hughie got closer to the cockroach, he saw that it was wearing a teeny tiny trenchcoat, Hawaiian shirt, and combat boots.
“Name’s Broacher, innit? Ya must be wee ‘ughie Butcher is always talkin’ about.” Broacher grinned as Hughie turned off the lights and got into the tub.
“I thought Butcher wanted to keep his pube-roaches close, how did you escape?” Hughie asked, finally giving into the absurdity of this entire night.
“Well, I’m me own man…er…roach-man, and I come an’ go as I please, innit?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Would ya like me to help ya sleep?” Broacher asked. Hughie let out a long exhale.
“Why not? It’s not like I’d be falling asleep any sooner if you didn’t.”
Broacher let out a happy squeal and flew to perch closer to Hughie.
“It’s nice to finally meet ya, ‘ughie. Butcher’s always goin’ on and on about how yer tha spittin’ of Lenny. Anyways, close yer eyes.” Broacher instructed. Hughie closed his eyes.
“Imagine yer at a beach, and the waves are crashing against the shore. I want you to imagine the sand in your toes. Focus on how hot and granular it feels. Then, imagine what the beach sounds like. Some seagulls, some footsteps in the background…maybe a conversation or two.” As Broacher did the visualization exercise, Hughie felt his eyelids grow heavy.
“An’ then, ya take a step into tha water. Feel tha cool ocean waves lickin’ yer ankles. Feel good, don’t it?”
Hughie was now fast asleep. Broacher had a fleeting thought about burrowing into Hughie’s pubes so he could be the poor lad’s conscience. However, the seductive call of freedom won out.
“Goodnight wee ‘ughie. Sweet dreams.” Broacher crawled down the drain leaving his old life behind.
The next morning, Hughie woke up with cramps and aches from being a tall-ass man sleeping in a tiny-ass motel bathtub. He looked around to see if any other pube-roaches were there to greet him, but to his delight, there weren’t any. Not that the pube-roaches were bad company per se, but the concept of them was so inherently disgusting to Hughie that the mere thought of them triggered his gag reflex. He removed the towels from underneath the bathroom door and opened it. The rancid, putrid stench of Butcher’s body odor and his and Soldier Boy’s combined farts smacked Hughie upside the head. Hughie immediately whipped around and knelt over the toilet, gagging and retching. His eyes watered as last night’s dinner soon painted the toilet bowl.
“Oi! ‘Ughie! Knock it on tha ‘ead, will ya?” Butcher shouted. Hughie wanted to have a biblical crash out. Maybe go into FBI witness protection after that so Butcher and Soldier Boy could never find him again. When Hughie was finally done emptying the contents of his stomach, he brushed his teeth and flushed the toilet. Pulling his shirt over his nose, he walked back into the main room.
“If you guys need me, I’ll be in the car. I’m sleeping in the back seat because I spent the night in the bathtub and nearly died.” Hughie explained.
“Why’s that?” Butcher asked.
“Fucking…it’s…the pube roaches.” Hughie mumbled. Soldier Boy and Butcher leaned forward as if they didn’t hear him.
“It’s your farts! A-and your fucking pube roaches! Butcher! Soldier Boy hogged the covers and kicked me off the bed really hard! You both sleep talk and at one point synced up your dreams to where you were inviting the other to be the third in a threesome! I had to sleep in the bathtub!” Hughie shrieked.
“Oi mate, calm dow—”
“DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN BUTCHER!”
“Jeez, you sure are moody. Is it that time of the month?” Soldier Boy chuckled.
Hughie’s face was beet red for sure. He was about to cuss both of them out but then decided to just leave the motel room and meet them at the car.
Fucking pube-roaches.