Old Man_Part 2

"Dad!" Max leapt into his father's arms when the door finally opened, catching him completely by surprise—

"Maxie!" Goofy returned the hug and peered over his only son's shoulder, "huh?"

"Good evening, Mr. Goof."

A familiar redhead with a bob of short hair and pointed frames strutted over to the entrance, in a sky blue turtleneck and a long, lavender skirt, "Oh it's so good to see you again!" kissing the sophomore on the cheek, to which he beamed. Bradley looked at the college librarian, not in disdain, most probably mere disapproval. That didn't stop him from extending a cordial hand,

"Ms. Marpole—

"Soon to be Mrs.—greeting each other in all politeness. Throughout their platonic chat afterwards, Goofy took Max to the other side of the porch,

"What's Mr. Uppercrust doing here, Max?"

No better time to get some weight off his chest, "We're friends now, Dad. We've, you know—" shrugging his shoulders in place of laughing nervously, "settled our differences!"

His father raised a brow, as for the how—"We just got to talking to each other, after you got your college degree—" rocking back and forth on his toes and placing both hands in his pockets, "And, we realized that we have a lot in common."

"I'm not so sure—

"Pete ain't exactly the most trustworthy friend on the planet either, Dad." Giving a funny little smirk to seal the deal, "But, he's a good guy underneath all that."

Goofy still had an air of uncertainty despite his usual cheerful self,

"All right, Maxie. Do the boys know you're here?" Max stuck his tongue out playfully before responding, "Yep! But, they don't know that Bradley drove me here. It's a bad idea letting them know…"

The Uppercrust kid gave Mr. Goof a friendly pat on the back,

"The ex X-Games King being friends with the captain of Team 99? It's unheard of! They'd no sooner burn us at the stake for being heretics!"

Max motioned him to cut away his sense of humor once Goofy turned to face this "changed man". Sylvia giggled and dragged a confused Goof away,

"Don't worry none, honey. I've known this student for a long time!"


An odd, disturbing image crept to Maximilian's head, which he immediately dismissed.


"He used to come by the library all the time during his freshman year. Quite the bookworm, weren't you, Bradley?" The senior went red from embarrassment, "He'd always tell me it was his only way to escape his 'prison of a fraternity' and all the sports practices in between—Remember, sweetie?"

"Haha! Yep—" Sweat flew in all directions as he tugged at his collar while Max failed to stifle a giggle, throwing his head back and laughing nonstop,

"Bookworm Bradley! That's adorable!"

-----

With the petite Chihuahua around, it was easy to break the ice between the jock and the new champion's father. Sylvia played the mediator at every turn. Yet she was downright oblivious to the fact—

"Should we tell her?"

"What are you asking me for, Dad?" Besides…

Her hand was on Bradley's shoulder, currently enthusiastic about his progress in trivial things, amongst them being reading classic novels, poetry, and his dabbling in fine art. Their slabs of pound cake, drizzled with strawberry syrup, were getting cold along with the instant coffee. A drop or two of the transparent, viscous topping tinted the baby blue-white checkered tablecloth, surface decorated with a woman's touch. A vase of flowers burst with the rainbow's spectrum, opaque glass reflecting their merry dispositions…


Goofy was confounded at the sight which his son found rather pleasant.

If the senior's participation was all out of a devised plan, then he was doing a mighty good job at it. Maybe all the boisterous laughs were mocking of her intelligence. The hot blushes were of shock, as if she had unearthed a dark secret.

Everything was going just as planned when the librarian pulled him in for a tight hug, where his arms fell limp in a motherly embrace. There was no better moment to draw the hearts all around this stranger to the common world.

"I wish you had the time to visit me last year."

"Heh heh, it doesn't seem I had to. Mr. Goof here did a better job than what I'm qualified for!"

"Me?"

"Yep!" Sticking his tongue out in good humor, "You got a wonderful woman…"

Max was the only one to hear in on the rest of his sentence, "to replace your dear beloved wife."

His melody went sour on the last note.

"Gawrsh." It was Mr. Goof's turn to blush; Ms. Marpole took a cute hand to her lips and giggled.


"Dad," placing a hand over his father's, "Let's not tell her what he did," secretive whisper, "look at him…"

Brad glanced across the table and met the kid's eyes. He seemed a bit hurt, yet smiled nonetheless.

"Why do we need to have the whole world hate him?"


Sylvia wrung her hands in excitement, "Tell me, do you have any new sketches you'd like to share??"

A black dog nearly choked on the hot water as he was sipping it up.

"He's very good at figure drawing, Goofy."

"Fig—ur??"

-----

The four lounged around in the living room, occupying the loveseat, couch and armchair nearby. Bradley took the armchair like another throne, leaning forward in conversation.

Topics of interest were of the college life, graduation, and future endeavors.

The spastic jock never sounded more civilized in his known life, taking everything seriously and not spitting out any dialogue dripping of sarcasm or ill will. Goofy himself, arm wrapped around the librarian, pulled off a bit of a sophisticated image himself. Of course he'd delve into that familiar laugh. After all this time, living with Ms. Marpole, maybe he had some brains implanted by her in a secret lab. Maxie giggled at the sight of Sylvia in a white lab coat sporting long rubber gloves and dark goggles,

"Pull the lever, Tank!" (clank!) "Wrong lever!!"

"What's so funny, Max?" Bradley asked.

"Nothing, man," sitting up on the couch and bringing his knees up to his chest, "Just thinking." The senior's thick brows were raised, Man?


"I never did meet your dad, Mr. Uppercrust. How's he doing?"


A smile kept plastered over the young man's countenance, "Fine. Just fine."

"Where does he work at?"

"Office building."

The usual wordiness to his answers was cut down to size. Fingers resting on the arm dug into the faux leather. The glittering of those blue orbs suddenly went dull. The sophomore was the only one to notice, and bit his lip.

"Could you be more specific—what job he's taking?"

"Janitor." Both Goofy and the redhead blinked in astonishment. Uppercrust suddenly burst into laughter, "I'm kidding, sir! He's got a very high position there, white-collar job and everything!"

"Oh!" The funny dog nodded his head in understanding, "I bet you have a nice house—

"Oh yeah. It's paradise. Servants and everything." Bradley was either getting borderline ridiculous, or about to blow a fuse—

Goof Boy had to think of something fast, "Bradley—where will you go after you leave college?"

It sounded like a mere repeat of a question that Ms. Marpole had brought up earlier.

But the way he asked it sounded more like a child's plea for him to stay. His father picked up on the tone real quick, "What do you mean, Maxie? Everyone needs to fly the coop sometime. Like you said when you were leaving for college: I can't wait to get out of here."

A wave of guilt knocked the boy over; his friend was not impressed.

The atmosphere went cold. The senior crossed one leg over the other and sunk back into the cushion, aloof, taking a woven fist to the side of his face.

"I'm sorry," bit of a mumble.


"Goofy, honey." a peck on the cheek, "You know he's still young. He's only a boy."

Bradley chuckled, "I agree."

Another lump caught in this boy's throat. He just wanted to help. Running a nervous hand through raven hair, he got up and bid everyone a Good Night, peering at a ticking clock above the wall separating them from the kitchen,

"I'm gonna turn in. It's late—

"What's late to you?" Brad was scathing.

"Almost midnight." His dad got up and gave his son a loving embrace. Max didn't know whether to feel grateful or humiliated, "Good night, Maxie—you need help to make the bed? And, where's your friend going to sleep?" Some life came back to the gray orbs as the guest stood up,

"I'm going to sleep in his room. Right, Max?"

Both males smiled sheepishly, "Did you bring a sleeping bag?"

"That's the thing: I've never slept over."

"Uh," suddenly having to turn away when he felt a rush of blood to his cheeks, "there's a ton of blankets in the hallway closet. I can make you a cushion out of those and I'll get you a pillow or two. Loan you some pajamas—

"I brought my own, don't fret about it." Bradley returned to a positive charge.

Sylvia walked up to him and gave him a small kiss, setting the young man ablaze, "Good night, sweetie."

"Before we head upstairs, can you pet my head?" That disturbing image lit up again.

Max jerked at his collar and dragged him off the scene,

"She's not petting your head, playboy!"

Bradley stuttered, "B-b-but!"


… "He sure is a strange one, ain't he?"

-----

"You were so flirting with her, dude!"

"There's that word again! Since when did I become a part of your 'posse'?"

"Don't change the subject!" throwing a pillow at his face—

"Get your mind out of the gutter, kid!" swinging the weight full force, "oof!"

Bradley had a considerable downgrade in sleepwear. On some nights he'd be wearing the robe. On bad, the casual loose fit. And, on good, nothing at all.

Now he wore silk red pajamas, enveloping him in such a way that the ends of his sleeves dangled off his hands. All he needed was a chubbier face and he would be mistaken for a boy of 8! Max, in the usual tank top, saw through this disguise and tripped him up, letting him fall to the cushion of blankets piled on top of each other. Bradley whimpered as he felt himself being pinned down, "You've gotten cuter already."  If Goof had a tail, it was wagging up a storm.


… "It's not the best idea to try and pull this off at your own house."


"And why not? I thought you were the one who found the possibility of getting caught exciting."

Brad shook his head, "Not here." He gulped. The dominant canine looked him over, then went in for a kiss, "Just one. I promise."

The boy wanted to stay there forever, wrapping his legs and arms around his guest—The senior petted his hair and pecked him on the forehead, "Time's up."

He nodded, and stood up—"I can sleep on the floor; you can borrow my bed—

"No, it's fine… Say, what's that?"

A long finger pointed towards the corner of the room, at a stuffed animal perched on top of some linen. "Nothing!" blocking the view which the other peered around, "It's not mine!"

"Well sure it is, unless you got a baby cousin." Maximilian put his head down in shame and put a hand behind his sore neck, letting him take a look, "Aw, it's cute. Now it's mine."

"Huh?" The college student now sounded like a school grader.

"It's mine and you can't have it." Sticking his tongue out before smiling, "Teddy!" holding the polyester stuffing close, "It smells just like my 'Maxie'!"


"My teddy."

-----

The lights were off; Goof Boy couldn't sleep. Too many lustful thoughts coincided with more important issues that he felt he had to bring up. It was around 2 in the morning again—

"psst! Bradley!" hanging off the side of his bed and shaking the man's shoulders,

"Mmmh…" tiny yawn, "Wha—Oh Max I was just about to enter a stage of unconsciousness." The teddy bear was guarded by his strong arms.

"Bradley… don't you want to try it now? My dad sleeps like a rock."

"Pfft!" blowing strands of dusty brown hair from his face, "And explain to Mr. Goof why the sheets are covered with slime. Very smart, Max—you should get an award."

The other laughed nervously before clearing his throat, "Speaking of which, why do you hate your 'old man'?"

Heavy silence.


Finally opening his mouth, "Max. Your father's a good man. You should be proud. Not shameful."

"Is yours a bad man?" He slid out of the covers and sat down on the cushion, running a caring hand through his friend's hair…

"No. He's not evil, if that's what you meant. He's just…" The young man curled up in fetal position, "kinda tough on me, that's all."

"Kinda like PJ, huh?" Until now Uppercrust's back was toward him; now he was peering up at the younger dog's face, "Hm?"

"His dad's kinda, well.. For a while he wouldn't let me and Peej hang out because I was a Goof—'you'll get their germs, see??'"

Bradley giggled, relieved he wasn't pressing on getting answers. "So, I can catch cooties from you?"


Even real tired, he listened attentively to Max Goof's high-spun tales of burglars, car dealerships, camping, fishing, crazy fathers and their occasional rivalry, cute babes… skateboarding and some pharaoh…

Like a mother reading a bedtime story to her child… It was the safest Bradley had felt in a long time, right in the bedroom of his once sworn enemy's house.


Max nearly fell asleep next to him. Realizing where he was, he crawled up back into his bed and buried himself under the comforter. Now he didn't know what to do next.


It began to dawn on him that Bradley Uppercrust wanted more from him than he could ever give. He didn't know how… and he didn't seem to be the one qualified for the job, either.