Sam Winchester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
likely_evil) wrote2009-12-08 10:35 pm
likely_evil) wrote2009-12-08 10:35 pm
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Another Holiday Tradition with the Winchester Brothers...
3) Vegetables are a must on a diet. I suggest carrot cake, zucchini bread, and pumpkin pie.
--Jim Davis
"Dean, are you sure this is going to work?"
"Of course I am, Sammy. When have I shown you something that didn't work."
"The time you tried to jump the barbed wire fence and tore your pants."
"The fence was wet and I slipped."
"The time you blew up the potato in the microwave."
"You're the one who wanted mashed potatoes."
"And the time..."
Dean turned to look at his eight year old brother and gave him the shut up look, which Sam did immediately. At least for about thirty seconds until he looked at the plate Dean was working on. "Are you really sure we can make bullets out of fruitcake?"
"We're not making bullets, we're making pellets. There's a difference."
"But you said we're going to use a gun."
"It's a launcher that looks like a gun." Dean sighed. "Sammy, just warm up the next loaf in the microwave, ok? I only get a few minutes after it finished to make these before the damn stuff hardens again."
Sam nodded and took the second fruit cake to the microwave and turned it on. Both of them had gotten a loaf at school for the family to have on the holidays, and Dean had promised to show Sam the real reason fruitcakes were invented. So far it had involved watching Dean hack at the thing with his hunting knife to make balls the size of marshmallows. He was forming the last pieces with all his strength when Sam came back, holding the loaf with two oven mitts.
"Ok, Sammy. You roll those in flour to keep them from being so sticky and I'll start on the next batch."
"Why won't you tell me what we're doing with them?"
"Because it's a surprise."
"Is Dad going to be mad at us?"
"Of course not. He won't even know." Dean flashed his brother a grin. "Just trust me, Sammy."
Three hours later the brothers were walking down a street, both holding marshmallow launchers and Sam had his backpack filled with the fruit cake ammo. Looking around, Dean finally smiled and crouched down, motioning for Sam to follow him.
Sam had been learning to hunt like Dean for almost a year now, so he was trying to be stelthy like his brother and hide against the tree as Dean gave him silent signals to look at the house on the other side of the tree.
There, a group of people were caroling, dressed up in old time clothing. Dean loaded up his gun and gave his brother a big grin. "Alright, you get a point for every hit. Two points if they drop their books, five points if they fall down and an extra point for everyone they take down with them. Got it?" Dean whispered the rules to his little brother seriously.
"But Dean, they're just singing."
"Sammy, they are dressed in stupid clothes and singing to people who really don't give a damn. They are fruitcakes, and we're just giving them a taste of their own medicine. You ready?"
Sam looked at his launcher and then nodded. "Ok..."
Dean gave him a big grin, then stepped out from behind his tree. "DIE SINGING SCUM!" he shouted and the fruitcake started flying.
--Jim Davis
"Dean, are you sure this is going to work?"
"Of course I am, Sammy. When have I shown you something that didn't work."
"The time you tried to jump the barbed wire fence and tore your pants."
"The fence was wet and I slipped."
"The time you blew up the potato in the microwave."
"You're the one who wanted mashed potatoes."
"And the time..."
Dean turned to look at his eight year old brother and gave him the shut up look, which Sam did immediately. At least for about thirty seconds until he looked at the plate Dean was working on. "Are you really sure we can make bullets out of fruitcake?"
"We're not making bullets, we're making pellets. There's a difference."
"But you said we're going to use a gun."
"It's a launcher that looks like a gun." Dean sighed. "Sammy, just warm up the next loaf in the microwave, ok? I only get a few minutes after it finished to make these before the damn stuff hardens again."
Sam nodded and took the second fruit cake to the microwave and turned it on. Both of them had gotten a loaf at school for the family to have on the holidays, and Dean had promised to show Sam the real reason fruitcakes were invented. So far it had involved watching Dean hack at the thing with his hunting knife to make balls the size of marshmallows. He was forming the last pieces with all his strength when Sam came back, holding the loaf with two oven mitts.
"Ok, Sammy. You roll those in flour to keep them from being so sticky and I'll start on the next batch."
"Why won't you tell me what we're doing with them?"
"Because it's a surprise."
"Is Dad going to be mad at us?"
"Of course not. He won't even know." Dean flashed his brother a grin. "Just trust me, Sammy."
Three hours later the brothers were walking down a street, both holding marshmallow launchers and Sam had his backpack filled with the fruit cake ammo. Looking around, Dean finally smiled and crouched down, motioning for Sam to follow him.
Sam had been learning to hunt like Dean for almost a year now, so he was trying to be stelthy like his brother and hide against the tree as Dean gave him silent signals to look at the house on the other side of the tree.
There, a group of people were caroling, dressed up in old time clothing. Dean loaded up his gun and gave his brother a big grin. "Alright, you get a point for every hit. Two points if they drop their books, five points if they fall down and an extra point for everyone they take down with them. Got it?" Dean whispered the rules to his little brother seriously.
"But Dean, they're just singing."
"Sammy, they are dressed in stupid clothes and singing to people who really don't give a damn. They are fruitcakes, and we're just giving them a taste of their own medicine. You ready?"
Sam looked at his launcher and then nodded. "Ok..."
Dean gave him a big grin, then stepped out from behind his tree. "DIE SINGING SCUM!" he shouted and the fruitcake started flying.
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