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Title: Pet Sounds (Mythklok Interstitial)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Dealing with new pets.
Warnings: Bathroom humor.
Notes: Since Tam and Z both mentioned this, and it didn’t fit in the last chapter, here’s a bit more information about Toki Jr.

Charles paused outside the room, clutching the plush toy to him. He was surprised to hear the sound of childish laughter emitting from the partially opened door.

Carefully cradling Wunge in the crook of one elbow, he took out his Dethphone and hit the speed dial.

“Yes, Sariel?” came Ganesh’s cheerful voice. There seemed to be a buzz of activity happening in the background around him.

“Uh, we didn’t have a play date with the twins today, did we?”

“No, Boonie is up here with me!” the affable god reported. “Your daddy says hi,” he said as an aside. The clattering and banging suddenly stopped and Charles heard what must have been and earsplitting wail of “HI DADDEEEE!” in the background. And then the banging and clanging noises resumed, only redoubled.

“We have decided to engage the second wall in my living room in a work of the rococo style!” Ganesh yelled over the din.

“You’re gonna let him do another mural there?” asked Charles, who recalled the dismay his usually serene partner had experienced when their artistic son had painted up a wall of Ganesh’s residence.

“We believe it will bring more aesthetic balance to the room’s feng shui!” said Ganesh, and a second, higher voice echoed. “DA FUNSHWAY DADEEE!”

“Uh, yeah, sounds like fun,” said Charles. “Shui.”

“Are you quite certain you do not wish to join us?” asked Ganesh.

“Oh, no, you guys go ahead, I have some errands down here,” Charles told him. Actually, Charles found little fun to be had in spending an afternoon slathered in paint. Especially when he had a terrible pressing problem to attend to.

“Well, all right, but we’re going-“ There was suddenly a quite pronounced crash in the background, and the report of things breaking. Many things breaking. “Oh, er, I must go. We shall talk later!” said Ganesh, who clicked off without waiting for Charles’ goodbye.

Charles hit the END DETHCALL button and peered again at the door in front of him. He knocked softly, pulling the door opened slightly. “Toki?” he asked.

“Ja! You ams may enter Toki’s room, Charles!” called the cheerful guitarist. Charles pulled the door open the rest of the way and was confronted with the sight of Toki lying on his stomach on his bed, kicking his legs, and typing into his laptop computer.

The giggling sound appeared to be emitting from the laptop, so Charles, curious, walked far enough into the room so he could see what was onscreen. The monitor showed a picture of what appeared to be a rock.

Two children’s faces squeezed briefly into the monitor, and there were more giggles. “HI WUNKY SAR!” chorused the twins.

“Hello Liam. Abigail,” said Charles.

“Wabbygay!” he heard Liam say, and then the boy emitted a small grunt. Abby liked it when Charles used her full name, so of course, her brother loved to tease her about it, and was thus inevitably rewarded with a punch in the arm.

“You’re, uh, talking to Raziel’s kids?” asked Charles.

“No, our pets ams talking!” said Toki, pointing out a small object that looked for all the world like an anonymous piece of gravel sitting on his laptop keyboard. “Toki Jr. ams talks to Tigger! Dey ams best pals!”

Toki Jr. was, confusingly enough, Toki’s gravel demon, although Charles had yet to glean any evidence that the thing was in fact a living being. Which probably made it an ideal pet for the calamity-inclined rhythm guitarist.

“Well, OK,” said Charles.

There was a distant voice over the computer. “Hey, kids, time for dinner!”

“Oh, you ams says goobyes now?” asked Toki.

“Bye-bye Unky Tok! Bye-bye Unky Sar! Bye-bye Tok!” yelled the twins (who, Charles had recently noticed, did not seem to have any speaking volumes between “conspiratorial whisper” and “full throated holler”).

“Yeah. Bye kids,” said Charles.

“You ams has businesses with Toki, Charles?” asked Toki, sitting up and swinging his long legs over the end of the bed.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” said Charles, suddenly remembering the plush toy tucked under his arm. “It’s, uh, Wunge, I’m afraid,” he sighed, pulling out the chubby little cloth angel. “The tiger got ahold of it, Hobbes,” he said. He held it up, and the head flopped crazily to the side, hanging by a thread. Charles tried to speak further on the matter, but found he could only emit a small strangled cry.

“Awwww!” said Toki, who sprang up and immediately cradled the wounded angel to him. “You ams not worry, Toki ams fixes you right up!”

“Boon was … very upset,” choked Charles, struggling to keep his composure.

“Dat ams fines,” promised Toki. “We ams just puts da patches, right heres!” he demonstrated, poking at the ripped neck.

“A patch,” repeated a woeful Charles, watching as Toki laid the raggedy angel by his old Singer sewing machine.

“I ams works on it with Toki Jr.! He ams da best seamstrecockles!” Toki promised, now picking up the gravel demon from the laptop and placing it right beside the grievously wounded Wunge.

“OK. Thanks Toki,” whispered Charles, who quite suddenly found himself swept up in a most unexpected full-bodied hug.

“You ams tells Boom not to bes upset!” said Toki, finally breaking the clench.

“Yeah. Uh. I’ll tell him,” said Charles, wiping something that was definitely not a tear from the corner of his eye. He nodded to Toki, and then stumbled out the door, nearly colliding with the shambolic figure of Chef Jean Pierre.

“Oh, uh, sorry, Jean Pierre.”

“It ees no problem, my beloved Mahstar!” said the Frankensteinian chef, who somehow managed to bow gracefully whilst keeping balanced what looked like a heavily laden covered tray.

“You’re, uh, personally bringing Toki his lunch?” asked Charles, honestly baffled that the busy head of his kitchen hadn’t delegated the delivery to a chefateer.

“No, eet ees a tres special assignment, exalted Mahstar Sharles!” the excited chef buzzed, dramatically whipping off the cover to display the contents. “We haf prepahred a feast for Mahstar Toki’s petit pet, Mahstar Toki zhoonior, zee demon de gravier!”

“Wow! What is all that?” asked Charles, who was not simply making conversation, as he was honestly impressed (as well as a bit peckish, upon seeing and smelling all the delicacies arrayed on the tray).

“Wall,” began the proud chef de cuisine, “we are not exzhactly certain wheech foods petit Toki weel favor, so we have some jambon, fromage, biftek, baguette, foie gras, éclair, cassoulet, and zeez lovely haricots!”

“Oh, beans?” Charles asked at the last.

“Mais oui!”

“You are feeding Toki’s rock French cuisine?” Charles couldn’t help but asking (he blamed his keening stomach for his apparent rudeness).

“Only zee finest for my beloved mahstars!” insisted Jean Pierre.

“Oh. Yes. Definitely. Good work! Well, carry on!” said Charles, awkwardly getting out of the way of Toki’s door so Jean Pierre could sweep in with all the delicious treats.

Now rubbing his protesting stomach, Charles made his way to his office, where he had no sooner sat down than he felt a small weight perch on his shoulder.

“You?” he asked irritably.

“Mew?” came the answer. A tiger kitten peered at him, blinking lovely tiger eyes.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, you know, Hobbes,” Charles scolded. “Ripping up Boon’s angel like that! Wunge is his favorite plush toy!” he insisted, despite all evidence to the contrary.

The tiger kitten produced another rather serene mewl, and then turned around on Charles’ shoulder, beginning to bat experimentally at Charles’ back. It mewed in frustration, and then turned around yet again to look pleadingly at him.

“Oh, you wanna play with my wings again? After what you’ve done! I’m not gonna True Form for an angel-ripping kitten!” he told it firmly. “Never!”


Charles looked up from his paperwork and regarded the eight foot horned demon standing in his office doorway.

“Yes, Nathan?”

“Can I come in?”

“If you can fit through the doorway,” said Charles.

“Why do you have the wings out?” inquired Nathan, stooping so he would not catch his horns on the top of the office doorway, the top of which was now scarred by several pairs of horn-scrape marks.

“Oh, uh, no reason,” explained Charles, casting a glance at the kitten on his shoulder who was now quite contentedly batting at his amazing feathery wings. The cat turned and eyed Nathan, and then scampered off of Charles’ shoulder, landing noiselessly on the floor and swiftly disappearing under his desk. “What is it you wanted, Nathan?” asked Charles, officiously steepling his hands.

“Is Ganesh dude around?” asked Nathan, settling himself awkwardly into a human-sized guest chair.

“Uh, no. He is currently at our residence, up north, helping Boon paint a new mural.”

“Artsy craftsy shit?”

“Uh, yes, artsy craftsy shit,” said Charles, his eyes scanning the floor for Hobbes. “Did you perhaps want something from Ganesh.”

“What would I want from Ganesh?” growled Nathan, switching his forked demon tail.

“Well, I don’t know, Nathan. It occurs to me it is a possibility that you might want him to transfer your soul back to your human body,” suggested Charles.

“Why would a wanna do that?” said Nathan.

“No reason at all,” said Charles.

“It’s not because you’re RACIST, is it?” demanded Nathan. “Lady Raz says angels don’t like demons.”

“Well, as a general rule, that is regrettably true,” Charles admitted. “However, you must admit, I have managed a band for many years which counts among its members a member of the demon race.”

“What? Many years? I’ve only been a demon a couple of weeks!” said Nathan.

“I am referring of course to William?”

“Oh, yeah. Murderface.”

“What you decide is fine with me, Nathan. If it’s a problem to you that your bedroom door is too low and you keep hitting your head, we can re do it, just as we’ve had to give you a stronger bed after you broke it….”

“Oh. Yeah. That,” chuckled Nathan.

“…and we can outfit you with a new wardrobe, since none of your old clothes fit, and we can probably get a new Dethcycle, after, the, uh, incident….”

“That SUCKED!” pouted Nathan, now remembering the horrible crunching sound that emitted when he tried to mount his beloved bike.

“And we can reengineer chairs and tables, and, of course, your bathroom….”

“That TOTALLY SUCKED,” boomed Nathan, now switching his tail like crazy with agitation at the thought of his smashed throne, the tiled floor littered with sewage-stained Spiderman comics.

“Well, Nathan-“ began Charles.

“OWWWWW!! MY ASS!” Nathan hollered, suddenly leaping to his feet, his great hooves making dents in Charles’ floor.

“Oh, there you are!” said Charles, who had also risen.

“Mew!” said Hobbes as Nathan cradled his aching forked tail in one taloned hand.

“He likes tails. Murgatroyd has to deal with it too,” Charles apologized. “Uh. Bad kitty!” he scolded to the rather oblivious little tiger. He gestured with one finger at Nathan as he picked up his ringing Dethphone.

“You know Toki’s gravel demon? Have you been feeding it?” asked Raziel, without pausing for a greeting.

“Uh, yes, actually, I just left Jean Pierre with a veritable banquet for it in fact-“

“WHAT have you been feeding it?” Raziel demanded.

“Uh, I dunno,” said Charles, now feeling his stomach rumble again. “A lot of good stuff, like crepes and steaks and stuff-“


“Well, yeah, in fact,” said Charles. “Why the urgency?”

“Gravel demon farts!” said Raziel.

“Uhhhhh, OK,” said Charles, who was now thoroughly confused. “Well, that sounds … mildly amusing.”

“What does?” asked Nathan.

“Gravel demon farts,” supplied Charles.

“Oh, yeah, that’s pretty funny,” agreed Nathan. “Is it stinking up Toki’s room?”

“So what is the urgency-“ Charles asked the phone.

“Sariel! Beans turn them into Coal demons! They FART FLAME!”

“Flame, huh?” said Charles. “They fart flame,” he told Nathan, who was chuckling along.

“You don’t even have to light their farts?” asked the singer.

“Get Toki a fire extinguisher!” insisted Raziel.

“Well, I don’t think he’ll need…” Charles began.

And then Charles had a vision. A vision of a little plush angel, its head sadly torn nearly off, sitting on Toki’s sewing table.

Right beside Toki Jr.

Who had just been fed a feast of beans.

“It’s an EMERGENCY!” wailed Charles, who threw his Dethphone to the desk and took off running at full speed.

“Whoa, that guy can move,” mused Nathan.

“Mew!” said Hobbes.

“Shuddup,” grumbled Nathan.

Charles half run-half flew through the corridors, pulling up before Toki’s door. It didn’t take angel senses to smell the slightly charred odor emitting from within.

His mind stamped with the picture of a flaming angel Charles threw open the door. “TOKI!” he shouted.

“Oh, Charles! You ams just in time!” smiled the guitarist. He proudly held up a little angel plush toy, which now had a tiny patch at its neck.

“Wunge!” said Charles, seizing the soft toy in wonder.

“Toki Jr. ams helped!” said Toki. Toki slid a thick, insulated glove onto one hand, and then used it to pick up the rock, which was now faintly glowing orange.

“Your, uh, demon helped?” asked Charles.

“Da seams,” Toki pointed out, running slim fingers over the edge of Wunge’s patch. “Ams heats sealed! Ams better dans sewing!”

Charles blinked. Toki was right. The repair job was literally seamless, the patchwork material seeming to flow into the original. “Toki, this is very beautiful work. Thank you.”

“Ands thanks Toki Jr!” the guitarist insisted, waving the rock in front of Charles.

“Uh, my grateful thanks to you, Toki Jr.”

Toki Jr,. suddenly emitted a two-foot geyser of flame from what was presumably its rear end.

“Oops!” grinned Toki. “Dat ams not polite, Toki Jr.!”

“Uh, yeah. We’ll have the Klokateers bring you a fire extinguisher for Toki Jr.” said Charles.

He stumbled out of Toki’s room, clutching the miraculously healed angel toy.


Charles looked to see where his son had just appeared in the corridor, in the company of Ganesh.

Both of them were covered, head to toe, in paint.

Elias bolted for the toy, excitedly hopping up and down, Charles dangling it just out of the boy’s grasp. “Yes, Uncle Toki repaired him for you. But I think maybe a bath is in order first?”

“Probably for both of us!” agreed Ganesh, picking up his sticky child. “What an adventure we’ve had today!”

“Uh-huh!” agreed Elias, his face barely visible beneath a sweep of forest green.

“Yeah,it’s kinda been an adventure here too,” agreed Charles as all three headed towards their suite.

“Oh yes?” asked Ganesh.

“We need a tiger trainer. And, uh, a rock trainer, I guess.”

“Well, I think I can manage the former. The latter, I am not too sure. You will have to tell us more as we clean up. It is now imperative to get Wunge reunited with Lelefun, is it not?” he asked Elias.


“As Lelefun is our favorite!” added Ganesh.


“Wait,” said Charles, wings flapping. “Wunge is our favorite.”

“Uh-huh!” Elias cheerfully agreed.

“Ah, we have raised a diplomat!” grinned Ganesh as they arrived at their suite.

“Yeah,” agreed Charles. “Hey. I think I need Boon to talk to Nathan.” And, squeezing in his broad silver wings, he followed Ganesh and Elias through the door.
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