The Sad, Sad Tales of Deaton DoodleDoo
Tale 1: Birth
Deaton DoodleDoo was born on a dark, freezing night in the middle of September. The weather forces that be had dropped the temperature to a jaw-dropping thirty degrees that one night that Marva and Dougie DoodleDoo rushed to the nearest hospital, an hour away from their campsite.
Dougie was a terrible driver, nearly throwing his gargantuan wife out the windows of their mobile home as he screeched down the interstate. The fetus Deaton was doomed to have a terrible life the moment that the mobile home ran out of organic fuel somewhere between Alabama and Louisiana. Marva gave birth to her screaming son, Deaton Urwin DoodleDoo (whose initials spelled DUD), on the white line of an interstate road.
"Catch him!" She shouted at her husband, fingernails clawing off the mobile home's tires in all of her pain.
"I ain't no good at it, honey. I failed outta my football scholarship." Dougie reminded her in his thick Southern drawl.
Dougie's fingers just grazed the edges of the flying baby's head, letting him tumble into the random manure pile below.
"Now he'll stink!" Marva complained.
"He stinky anyway. Baby poo's bright green, ain't it?" Dougie asked as he went downhill to get the baby.
Marva didn't even smile when her baby fell into her arms.
"Good gracious, he's ugly! Just like you, Dougie!" She shrieked, letting him fall onto her obscenely fat legs.
"Hey, there, Baby Deaton!" Dougie screamed. "You gonna be fat like your momma? Or ugly like your daddy? Or hairy like your Uncle Rupert?"
Uncle Rupert DoodleDoo, Dougie's twin brother, was actually the exact opposite of him. He had developed a British dialect to hide his terrible family bloodline, he had opened up a soda business while Dougie has built his own mobile home, and his wife was thin and beautiful, despite her ever-growing number of nose jobs.
Dougie called Rupert on his terribly old cell phone model, telling his brother of the new baby and the dead mobile home. Only an hour later, Rupert's oversized tour bus with his face painted on the sides rolled up to the roadside. His wife, Serafina DuBonja (she had begged to keep her maiden name), stepped out on the side, putting a hand to her bandaged nose.
"Another one, Serafina?" Marva asked from the freezing ground.
"You can never have too small a nose! They said that the 24th time was the charm!" She squeaked in a barely audible, airy voice.
"Another fail in life, Douglas?" A snide voice questioned.
"It's Dougie now, Rupert. I done got it changed many years ago."
A man in a black business suit emerged from the driver's side of the bus. He had a nice brown weave of hair, pleasant shoes, and a royal looking smile. However, he was covered from face to leg with thick, shaggy hair. In fact, he was wearing black shorts in the place of suit trousers, unable to tug long pants over his thick coat.
"What's this? A sickly little infant?" Rupert sneered.
"His name be Deaton. Deaton DoodleDoo." Dougie retorted, crossing his arms over his torn "I Heart Hillbilly Ladies" t-shirt.
Rupert and Serafina looked at eachother, laughing melodiously.
"We'll give you some gas, merely for the humor of driving that..thing to a hospital and having it examined! Surely it isn't human!" Rupert chuckled.
"I'll get your oversized 'Help the Poor' tank." Serafina gushed, running her hands down her golden sparkling dress with a giggle.
"Please do, darling."
"Oh, I just love you bunches of oodles!"
Rupert smiled almost wickedly.
"Does Marva love you that way, Douglas?"
"HE IMPREGNATED ME!" She hollered at the top of her measly lungs.
"That's a no, then." Rupert laughed.
"The tank's all filled for you mongrels." Serafina squeaked with a burst of high-pitched laughter.
At the ridiculously irritable noise, Deaton DoodleDoo burst out crying.
"Better take him to the hospital." Dougie sighed, starting up the mobile home.
Marva got in the backseat, lackadaisically tossing Deaton onto the chair beside her.
"Can it, pip-squeak." She roared at him. "There's still fifty miles to go."