Alfred didn’t want to do too much today. All he wanted to do was sit on his couch, watch TV, play video games, and eat ice cream…but, what he wanted to do and what he did do are two completely different things. If he spent the day doing what he wanted, then this wouldn’t be much of a story, now, wouldn’t it?
He started to watch TV, lazily channel flipping, when he heard a ring from his doorbell. With a sigh, Alfred got up, opened the door, then slammed it shut, running under his bed with Mr. Pillow. “Go away!” he yelled to the door before he heard impatient banging.
“Come on Alfred! Open the door!” the visitor yelled. “You don’t even know why I’m here!”
“I don’t care!” he yelled back. “Just go away!”
“Alfred! I want to be a hero!”
That phrase caught the blonde’s attention as he steadily re-approached the door. “…What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m sick and tired of always ending up in prison!”
Alfred bit his lip as he slowly reached for the knob and opened the door. “Why come to me?” he asked.
The brunette with eyes that were a combination of Fourth of July red and fresh bloody crimson at his doorstep sighed. He set down his bat with rusty nails crudely hammered in the stripping wood and coated in the sickening dark cinnamon color of dried blood. Small droplets of the liquid dangled on the nails closer to the brighter red from the fresh kill. “You’re the exact opposite of me. Everyone else would kill me if they found out I came to you for help because being goody-two-shoes and heroes that ride off in the sunset on a white horse with a damsel in distress in our arms…willingly in our arms, hasn’t been our style.”
“…What’s your point?”
“I’d rather be on a white horse in a sunset than a metal bed chained to a brick wall.”
After a moment’s thought, Alfred steadily and hesitantly opened the door wider for his guest. “…I guess…come on in Allan… But if you try anything like last time, then I’m calling Artie! I have him on speed dial, and he’ll send you right back where you came from!”
“…As long as you don’t tell Oliver, I’d never hear the end of it then.” Allan huffed. After a moment of awkward silence, the villain sighed. “Look, Al, can I call you Al?”
“Look Al, I’m sorry about trying to take your place last Christmas…and for handcuffing your girlfriend to her bed three months ago…and that whole thing where Oliver and I kinda beat you and Arthur and enslaved you in mirrors, sorry for that too…and also that time when I spiked your coffee with some of Oliver’s special cupcake ingredients…and that one time I-”
“That was you?!” Alfred yelled. “I had to go to the hospital because of my ‘unknown illness’! Do you know how much was on the bill I got?!”
Allan, for the first time in his life, had a look dripping in guilt and shame. “…That’s why I’m apologizing.” he stated. “So we can start over with a clean slate.” The blonde American furrowed his brows as he scratched his chin in thought. In the silence, Allan began to sweat in nervousness. ‘What’s that word people say when they really want something and begging for it?’ he asked himself. ‘I think it starts with a ‘P’…’Pickle’? No. That’s not it, not even close.’ He continued to run random ‘P’ words through his head, not even noticing that he was mumbling under his breath. “P-Puh-Pl-Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease.”
Hearing him say something, Alfred looked at him oddly. “…What did you say?”
“…Please help me…” the 2p mumbled quickly.
The hero smiled and patted Allan’s shoulder. “Seeing as how you want it so bad, alright. We’ll start fresh and I’ll teach you how to change your ways!”