TokiKlok: Toki's Childhood

Chapter 4: Mama I'm Comin Home

A petite, smartly dressed blonde was waving and jumping up and down as they exited the plane. "Mom!," Judy cried happily, running to the lady. They hugged and laughed until they were breathless, then the woman noticed Toki.

"Hello there," she hailed him. "You didn't tell me you was bringing somebody with you."

"Yeah Mom, this is Toki. I told you about him, remember?"

"Ohh! Yes, pleased ta meet you," she smiled brightly at the Norwegian. He could still see the vivavious cheerleader she used to be in the trim thirtysomething woman in skirt and heels. She was blonde, blue-eyed, with a tiny little nose and heart-shaped face, with a bit of grey at the temples. He could see a resemblence between mother and daughter, after all, even though the young woman was an Amazon standing next to her mother. She got her stature and build from Nathan, that was apparent.

"Nice to meets you, toos, Ms. Evans," Toki said awkwardly.

"Call me Betty, sugar," she tells him. "Or you can call me 'Mom', since all Judy talks about is you!"

The two females chatted eagerly on the drive back to their home, Betty remarking how much she'd missed Judy and how proud she was of her accomplishments. Toki was a bit touched that she was including him in the conversation and had invited him to call her Mom after just meeting her.

"We'll have to break out the good china," Judy's mother states. "And he can sleep in the extra bedroom. Then there's supper tonight..."

"You don't has to gives a whole rooms to me," offers Toki. "I can sleeps on couch, or wif Judys. I's fine."

"You are NOT sleeping with Judy, my friend, " she declares. "We'll have no hanky-panky in the house. And you're not sleepin' on the couch, you're a guest. So that's that."

"Why can'ts I just sleeps wif you?," he asked innocently in a whisper.

"Are you kiddin me?," Judy hissed back. "Teenage pregnancy or not, she's old-fashioned; no shacking up, no sleeping with members of the opposite sex in the same bed. She thinks too much leniency got her in trouble." She observed her companion with a bit of awe--he would remain innocent no matter what happened to him or what he did in life. He honestly didn't understand what the problem was, just like he didn't see the problem with getting in a hot tub naked with his bandmates or with ladies, or her, for that matter. Just like he didn't understand 'nosebleed' was different from 'blowjob' and a codpiece was different from a strap-on dildo, or how he had no sorrow about inadvertantly causing the death of the lead singer of a Christian rock band.

Just like he beat a man within an inch of his life with his bare hands, then could turn around and happily sign autographs and take pictures with children. Nothing seemed to stain him. She shook her head; it was like he was from another planet, sometimes.

"...and we can go fishing, too!," Betty was saying, mostly to herself. "So," she said, changing her tone. "How's your father?"

"He's doing good, been writing songs for a new album. Didn't want me to go, seemed to me."

"Well, I'm glad he loves ya. You two are so much alike."

Judy knew she wanted to bring up Katrina, and was just waiting for her to do it.

"So he's...happy? Seeing somebody?"

"Yeah, mom, you know that," the girl rolled her eyes. "Katrina Tate. I like her. She's pretty cool."

"I should hope she's better than that stick-whore Rebecca Nightrod character," the woman sniffs.

"Mom, you act like you're jealous."

"I am NOT," she protests. "I worry about him. His lifestyle and all."

"Don't start. He can take care of himself. God, I'm starvin'! I can't wait for some down-home cookin!"

"Don't they feed ya while your there?," snickered Betty.

"Their master chef, Jean-Pierre, is a great cook. He just fixes that crazy French stuff a lot, haha."


"Who's this kid?," Skwisgaar asked, guitar in hand as per usual.

"This is Katrina's son, Sam," answered Nathan.

"Whoa, Skwisgaar!," the lad beams. "Play something for me!"

He did some lightning fast riffs, then went to the couch to sit with them. "So whats, are we likes babysitting now?"

"I'm not a baby!," interjected Sam. "We're like..hanging out. Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!," he chanted with the television show.

"I guessh Katrina's coming back for him later," Murderface said, then laughed at the chairfight on the screen. "I love these talk schows, they look like so much fun. I wanna go on one."

"Pfffffffffft," went Skwisgaar, still practicing. "That's is totallys lames. That is all planneds and choreagrapheds anyway."

"No it'sh not!," argued Murderface. "It'sh reality tv!"

"I'm tired of watching tv, let's do something else," Sam suggests.

"I'm gonna get somethin to eat," Nathan says, getting up. Sam follows him eagerly.

"So you and Mom are like, dating?," he asks the frontman as they walked.

"Um. Yeah."

"You are so not her type."

"Huh?"

"She's all into these arty, nerdy guys, like my Dad. Hey what ya got to eat? Can I have a hamburger?"

"Sure, kid," Nathan grunts. "Jean-Pierre will make one for you."

On the way back from the kitchen Sam darted away and pulled the emergency fire alarm, causing panic at Mordland as everyone went through their fire drill. Katrina is gonna let me have it now, Nathan said to himself. He dragged the kid with him to the rec room, considering whether he should tether him to the couch. Sam threw a tantrum the whole way back.

"Dood, what's goin on?," asked Pickles, who was taking a drag of his cigarrette and stumbling through the hallways.

"You got another bastard kid ya didn't know about?"

"Hi Pickles!," Sam waved as he was yanked about.

"No, Pickles, this is Katrina's."