Rufie was lying on her belly in the Cambot household, her teenibopper legs lolling up in the air as she scanned through prerecordings of the other children's daily television allotment. "Fruit on fruit contact!" She cried, deleting the last fifteen seconds of Veggie Tales. "False legume idols! This is a clear violation of FCC Rule Deuteronomy 14:33:22!!"
"Hey there, Ruthie." Rufio said as he came into the room just then. Rufio lived in her house and was just a wee bit older than her.
She wobbled her legs in what was probably a mildly suggestive way. "Hey there Rufio," she said. "How would you like to get me some grape Shasta?"
"Oh, I think that's only for adults, Rufie," spake Rufio. "You know what they say about teens and the evil of stimulant addiction."
"Er, I'm pretty sure it's caffeine free."
"Can anything ever be TRULY caffeine free, Ruthie?"
"Stop being such a square and get a blessed pop." Rufio gasped. It was the first time he had ever heard young Rufie use such language. Rufie batted her sparkly eyelids, her bright fuschia lips like happy worms doing yoga spread into a smile as sweet as honey that was also produced by worms that were perhaps crossbred with bees. "Why don't you get one for each of us?"
"Gee," Rufio said, coming back into the room with the Shastas. "It sure is nice living with you in the Cambot household, Rufie." He said, sitting down next to her.
"Can I see your soda for a sec?"
"Sure. Say, you sure have a lot of brothers and sisters."
"Yes. Here, you can have it back."
"It's fizzing now. It tastes fizzy. Say, am I your brother?"
"I don't remember your backstory, David."
"Well, I love you all the same."
The remote slipped from Rufie's sebaceous grasp. Did he just say what she thought he said? Perhaps her heretofor unquestioned methods were purposeless. She slid her right knee closer to him. "Rufio..."
"I love Pastor Cambot too."
"Ah."
"And I love the dog."
"Mmm..."
"Do you know what I love the most?"
"Huh?"
"That theme song that plays every time we're about to have an adventure and learn more about family and being considerate of one another."
"Oh no."
"It goes like... you know... where can you gooooooo when the world won't..."
Ruthie sighed. It was obvious the rufie she'd surreptitiously inserted into his Shasta like a man slipping a very small penis into a sleeping prostitute was obviously not going to kick in fast enough. She took her can and blackjacked him across the back of the head. Since it was only aluminum, she had to continue beating him for a bit, then finally picked up a pillow, then a chair to rend him unconcious.
"Gee," David said, waking up. His head felt like it was full of grape Shasta. Drugged grape Shasta. It was also on something soft like a tumor. A tumor shaped like an alluring girl's lap.
"I see you're up." Rufie said. He suddenly felt good. And also hard. "I took the liberty of taking off your pants."
He looked down, blinking at his purple manpipe came into fuzzy view. A vague blur of well-manicured purple fingernails glid over it. It was scary like a velicoraptor, but also sexy like a velicoraptor with boobs.
"Rufie stop," he tried to struggle, only to find his hands and ankles bound with a slinky. "Where are we?"
"Someplace we won't be bothered, Akira."
He recognized the vaulted ceiling, and the wooded pews. "Gosh, Ruthie, we're in your father's church."
"Shush now," she whispered, her dyed blonde hair, brittle like really sexy corn flakes, whisking over his bared chest as she planted kisses down his body. "It'll all be over soon."
"Oog," he said. "That feels good. And also slippery like herpes."
"Mrbbbl," she said, her mouth full just then.
And then they had sex. It was pretty okay, but he bled a bit.
