Sour Sweet and the Mob
A Sour Sweet and Second Person College Story
Sour Sweet peared up from her Shufeldtian Literature textbook. The sight of her fiance, Second Person pacing around Everton Library, clearly stressed, worried, and desperately attempting to collect himself just wasn't befitting of him.
“Sweetie, calm down," Sour said, before shooting up her fist and adding, "... or I can give you a REAL reason to be worried!”
He turned toward her, giving her a half smile, but then instantly darted his eyes toward the door. The expression on his face spoke of the same level of horror that those poor souls in every slasher movie had right before the killer would catch ‘em and gut ‘em. She followed his gaze and saw not some horrific monster, but instead some guy wearing a Hawaiian shirt, that was loud even by Lemon Zest’s standards, a pair of stonewashed blue jeans, sandals with socks, and to cap it off was what looked like a man bun that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be a man bun or a pony tail. The man smiled, waved, and walked toward Second who was openly stressing out.
“Second! How’s my favorite nephew?!”
Sour watched as Second was pulled into a hug by this shaved gorilla that someone had managed to get into human clothes. No wonder Second told this guy to come to the library when he called. He seemed like the type who didn’t need to know where the peaceful dormitories were.
“So, I find out that First came out to your parents, my niece got knocked up by a tranny, and then that you’re going to college, apparently being the only one that’s normal. Vintage sure does like to pile it on thick. I guess that she got that from mom.”
“Vintage?” Sour asked.
“His mom, Vintage Lens, of course now it’s Vintage Person,” the man said as he looked her over. “Wow. Just wow. My nephew certainly got lucky!” He began rubbing his hands together, excitedly. “So Second, how serious is this relationship? Do I got a shot at all?”
Sour stood there, almost dumbstruck by the audacity. She looked at Second and saw him balling his fists up. Granted, Sour was a feminist and proud of it, but there were certain things about chivalry that she enjoyed. Seeing Second take a stand and protect her good name was one of them. However, there were a couple of things that made her not want to let Second start a fight here.
The first was the fact that she didn’t want him to get expelled, and the other was that she was fairly sure his uncle could wipe the floor with him.
“It’s a very serious relationship.”
Sour was a little surprised at how relaxed her answer was. She was planning on going all out on him, but instead she felt herself relaxed, reserved, and less shouty than she would have believed. Second’s uncle turned toward her, a smile on his face, and nodded.
“Good to know. Well, I guess formal introductions are in order. I’m Pop Cultural Lens of the Lens family. I’m sure you know my sister Vintage by now, although if you ever want to get under her skin, her full name is Vintage Historical Lens. Oh, how she hated being called Vintage Historical. Can’t say I was surprised that she went with her husband’s family naming system, her insistence on being ‘traditional’ and all.” He stretched. “So, I’m going to be staying at your parents’ place, naturally.”
Second’s eyes widened. “Does dad know?”
Pop grinned. “Nope. Vintage doesn’t know either, and that’s what makes it fun. I get to be the third wheel. Got to figure that it’s not going to do that much. Subjective Person seems like the kind of guy that can’t figure out that you can basically screw anywhere in a house.”
Second closed his eyes. “I don’t want to think about that.”
Pop laughed. “Kiddo, if your mom didn’t like your dad’s stuff then you wouldn’t be here. So suck it up, buttercup.”
“Uncle Pop, why are you here?” Second asked, desperate to change the subject.
After a moment, Pop Lens looked around, grabbed a seat, and planted himself on it. “Long story kiddo, but let’s say that it begins and ends with your uncle screwing up.”
Second rolled his eyes and took a seat across from him. “What happened this time?”
Pop pulled a fidget spinner from the breast pocket of his Hawaiian shirt and began to spin it absentmindedly. As he did, his other hand found a stress ball in his pants pocket. The stress ball looked like a holdover from the 80’s. It was designed to look like a monster’s head with a green sack that came out of its nose which Sour supposed was meant to look like snot.
“Well, it’s kind of like this,” Pop began as he spinned and squeezed. “Your Uncle Pop met this really awesome chick. I mean she was built, smart, funny, total package. So naturally I turned on the old Lens family charm, invited her out, and we went on a few dates.”
Second groaned. “So what went wrong?”
“Well, we might have spent the night at her place, and we certainly might have done more than played Monopoly, and she might have forgotten to tell your uncle that she was just barely legal and that her old man was Don Spearhead.”
Second looked at him and then shook his head. He slowly got up, breathed, and then looked back at his uncle. “You serious… You’re kidding right?”
Pop shook his head and held up his hand. “Sorry kiddo, honest injun here.”
Sour rolled her eyes. “Over the top racism aside, who is Don Spearhead?”
Second looked at her. “Remember Intro to Criminal Justice?”
She nodded. “Yeah so?”
Second looked at his uncle and then back at her. “Remember the chapter covering organized crime?”
“Just tell me already!”
Second looked back at Pop. “My Uncle Pop has went and slept with the head of the Applosian Mob Family’s daughter.”
She looked back at Pop and then at Second. “Oh, you gotta be SHITTING me.”
Pop sighed. “I messed up, alright? I like her, really do, but I’m also easily twice her age, and her dad’s more likely to give out a pair of cement shoes than forgiveness. At best I’m going to be forced into marriage, and I’m a free bird. But I can’t settle!”
Sour almost wanted to groan. Pop was practically every bad pop-culture reference from the 80s up till now. She considered voicing her observation when Second sighed.
“You know, if you’re going to be staying with mom and dad then maybe you should head over there.”
Pop grinned. “Would you mind to come along? I kinda would like someone help soften the blow to Vintage.”
Second looked at Sour. She nodded in agreement, partly because she desperately wanted to see just how much Second’s mom was going to slip from the mask of Leave It to Beaver perfection she tried to hold. The three of them got into Second’s car. The old Volkswagon Beetle was a far cry from exceptionally comfortable, but Sour knew that Second had bought the car on his own and was damn proud of his “baby”. The sound of the engine sputtering to life surrounded them, and then they were off.
They pulled into the yard and the sight before them were two large luxury cars sitting beside the old family stationwagon.
“Wonder who’s visiting?” Second asked as they got out.
The three of them walked into the house to see Second’s mom holding a dish of cookies, smiling nervously at her guests, and looking toward the door like she was trying to decide if she could make a break for it or not. Sour noticed the six men and one girl sitting on the couch, loveseat, and two recliners. All of the men were dressed in expensive looking suits, while the girl was dressed in a Catholic school reject’s uniform.
With her face messy from crumbs and chocolate, the girl locked eyes with Second's uncle and excitedly cheered, “Puddin’ Pop!”
The man next to her then pointed at him with a furious look in his eyes. “Youse.”
Sour looked at Pop who looked like he was about to pass out.
“M-m-mister Spearhead! Such a nice a surprise to see you. H-how’d you know where I-”
“That’s not important right now,” Spearhead stated as he cracked his knuckles. “What is important is that youse slept with my little Dolce, and just took off. That was very rude. Wasn’t it rude, boys?”
A chorus of “Very rude” was sung as the other five men began to get up. Their demeanor seemed to be promising that perhaps it was for the best that Second’s mom left plastic on all of her furniture after all. Sour looked at them, at the girl who was grabbing her father’s sleeve, and then looked at Second who was opening his mouth. She wasn’t sure if there was anything out there, something beyond human understanding, but if there was she hoped that it wouldn’t let the next words out of Second’s mouth be his last.
“Sir, I’m sure my uncle just freaked out, and he suggested that he wanted to handle things differently. Maybe getting to know you before assuming that he could date your daughter.”
Spearhead looked at the younger man, then at Pop, and then back to Second.
“Fine, there’s a place in town that my daughter loves. Fine dining establishment. So we go there, and then he gets to know me. Capisce?”
Vintage didn’t say a word or move as everyone filed out of the living room and out the door. A few moments later, Subjective tiptoed in, having emerged from hiding out in the garage.
“H-honey?” he shakily asked. “Are the bad men gone?”
Vintage didn't answer, opting instead to fall over to the floor in a faint.
Second’s little Beetle followed the two luxury cars before ending up at the place where childhood memories and capitalism came together to have a bastard child known as a pizza arcade.
“They got to be kidding,” Second uttered in disbelief. “And how does a crime boss hang around such public places without anyone recognizing him?”
Sour shook her head. “How does Lupin the 3rd always get through airport security? How does the world not realize that Nicolae Carpathia is the Antichrist? How does obscure referencing always pop up when you least expect it? Answer: Sheer stupidity!”
Parking was what Sour expected. It was crowded, but not to the point of being outlandishly in the boonies. Silly’s Pizza and Arcade was painted in the stock purple, pink, and gold that was supposed to attract children. The large glass doors opened to let the smell of over priced pizza, sweat, and screaming children roll out before they stepped inside. Once in there a person in an oversized alligator costume walked closer to them before performing Silly Billy’s laugh.
“Welcome to Silly’s Pizza and Arcade! I’m Silly Billy, and I’m here to say, have a gator fine day!”
Sour was about to roll her eyes when she heard a giggle and then saw Dolce hug the mascot.
“Thanks! We’ll have a blast! Oooo, do you have Skee-Ball?”
“Uh huh, we got a gator full of games and pizza waiting for all of you! Come right on and have a seat!”
One of the guys with Mr. Spearhead was eyeing the mascot pretty hard. Sour didn’t say a word. Instead, the group took a seat at a table together. The house special, which was basically whatever pizza hadn’t been brought out already and a pitcher of watered down soda, was brought out along with small collection of cupcakes. Sour noticed that Second wasn’t touching the cupcakes and decided to follow his example. He did work here after all, so of course he was in the know of what war crimes went on in that kitchen.
“Look at this,” Spearhead cooed after a couple minutes. “Eating togethers like a happy family. So, future son-in-law, what do you do for a living?”
Pop smiled. “Job? Me? BHAHAHA-”
Second quickly jammed him in the arm. “What my uncle meant to say, was that he is currently seeking to further his education. He has applied for next semester classes at Everton.”
Sour lifted an eyebrow. “And we all of course know what you do for a living, Mr. Spearhead.”
Spearhead nodded. “Indeed. I own and operate a modest, neighborhood hardware store with a vast selection of lumber.”
“Oh, come on,” Sour said, rolling her eyes. “We all know that you -”
Sour was cut off by the cold stare from Spearhead as he stated, “I. Sell. Lumber.”
The table went quiet for a moment, before Dolce chimed, “Yeah, my dad sure loves wood.” She shot Pop a sultry look. “Something we both have in common.”
Dolce and Pop broke out in an obnoxious fit of laughter. Some of the parents around their party began to glare at them. Second and Sour slumped down in their seats.
After a while, Sour began to notice that the five thugs seemed to be getting restless. They kept looking around in an anxious mood.
She wasn’t the only one that they caught attention of, as Spearhead finally asked, “Is something the matters?”
“Boss, mind if we play a couple of games?” one of them asked.
“Please, please, please?” another suddenly whined like a toddler.
He nodded, and most of the group headed toward the Skee-Ball and airsoft shooting games. One straight up pushed a kid away to steal his turn on a fighting game.
While Second and Spearhead watched the odd display, Sour spotted Dolce get up, nudge Pop, and quietly walk away from the table. After a few moments, Pop began shifting in his seat and waited until he believed that no one was paying attention ( though Sour was ) before he followed after her.
“So kid, I noticed that you seemed pretty quick to talk,” Spearhead complimented.
“Well, I figured that maybe we could handle this like gentlemen.”
The older man smiled. “Good call. Dolce seems to like him, and he seems harmless,” he said before he looked around. “Where did they get to anyway?”
“I’ll go look for them.”
Sour got up, moved toward the back of the restaurant, hoping that nothing was going on that would end up causing more problems. She suddenly stopped as she noticed one of Spearhead’s thugs looking at the mascot of the restaurant. He was glaring at the gator that was leaning against the wall.
“Keep lookin’ over here,” he muttered. “Go ahead, I’ll go home with some gator skin boots, you mook.”
She decided not to point out that he was talking about a person in a suit, or that the eyes were soullessly staring straight ahead. Instead, she heard the sound of something coming from the women’s restroom. She pressed on the door and looked inside to see Pop and Dolce rolling around the floor, making out as if air was a foreign concept. A little girl stood at the sink, staring wide-eyed at the “adults” as water ran unceasingly over her hands.
She swallowed, stepped back, and bumped into someone. She turned around to see the hard eyes of one of the thugs. She didn’t get to say anything before he was gone. Instead she stepped to the side and watched as Spearhead came toward the restrooms and made it just as the two stepped out.
Angry didn’t even begin to state how he looked. Pop began to stutter, but Sour felt something in her hand. She looked at Second who had passed her a little prize ball that had something inside of it. She looked to see a cheap costume ring, something gaudy and oversized, and understood what he was doing. She opened the ring and looked at Pop.
“Pop, here’s the ring that you said to hold onto, you know, because you obviously want to give it to her.”
He looked confused, then saw Dolce eyes widen as she saw the silver plastic ring with a large fake diamond on the top of it. He took it from her hand, grinned, and then looked at Dolce.
“Would you, you know?” he asked, grinning. “Cause to be honest, I don’t think that I’ve ever felt like there’s been anybody that really got me like you do.”
With tears in her eyes, she nodded.
Don Spearhead looked a little more relaxed. “Well, that’s different. If’n youse is planning on marrying my little Dolce, then youse got my blessing. Come, we’re gonna find the best venue in this town. No time to waste.”
Pop turned and hugged Second. “Thanks for everything, Second.”
Second hugged back. “You’re welcome, Uncle Pop. Good luck settling down.”
“He'll need it,” Sour muttered under her breath.
The group of mobsters left, leaving behind a single fedora that was resting on their table.
Sour grinned as she lifted it and put it on her head. “Finders keepers.”
“Well, that worked out better than I expected,” Second said before he slumped into a chair.
“They are actually cute together, but I think that’s because they’re just as tacky as each other! I mean come on, she’s practically every bad stereotype of what a girl was supposed to look like in a bad 90s mob movie!”
Second grinned. “You know, that hat looks good on you.”
She laughed. “It’s funny that we met the mob. If this was a sitcom, I’d say we jumped the shark.”
She felt Second’s hand take her wrist, not being forceful, but rather directing her onto his lap. She took the hint and he kissed her neck.
“Sour, you look sexy enough in that hat that I think we should go back to your dorm so I can jump your shark.”
She grinned as she gently punched him. “Sweetie, that was the dumbest pick-up line I’ve ever heard.” She kissed him. “But I know what you meant and it sounds like a plan.”
“Let's go, then.”
“Yes. Please do.”
The two whipped their heads to face a small crowd of furious parents and one alligator with some patches of his costume ripped off ( just enough to make a nice pair of boots ). Second and Sour chuckled nervously before bolting out the front doors.
THE END
Author's Note
(AN: I wanted to thank Nico-Stone Rupan for co-authoring this story. It was a pleasure to work with him in order to do this. I do hope that everyone enjoys our fun little dive into the Second Person/Sour Sweet relationship.)
