might actually be able to sleep.
An uneven but very loud clap snaps me out of my reverie, and I tense, whirling around to find the source of the noise.
“That was cool!”
I blink over at the kid sitting cross-legged on top of my leather jacket on the floor, probably around three years old. Aside from getting his stinky kid butt all over my jacket, he also has my boots on his hands, which accounted for the very loud but sloppy applause.
I look around for the adult responsible for this little spawn, but there’s no one else around.
“How did you get in here?” I ask him as I stalk forward.
He shrugs. “How’d you learn all those ninja moves?”
“I’m a ninja,” I say dryly before leaning over and plucking my boots off his hands.
“Really?” he asks, jumping to his feet.
“No,” I say, pulling my shoes on but not bothering to tie them up. “Who do you belong to?”
“My mom and dad.”
“What are their names?” I ask the blond-haired boy.
“Mommy and Daddy.”
“That’s helpful,” I mumble. “You’re on my jacket.”
“It’s comfy.”
I give the spawn a glare, wondering why he hasn’t run away yet. I make most kids cry, and that’s without even talking to them. My face just scares them.
“Up.”
The boy obediently stands, being kind enough to step all over my leather and leaving dusty footprints behind.
With a sigh, I dust it off and walk to the exit. Opening the door, he slips past me and then walks at my side, much to my dismay.
“Where do you live?” I ask, my eyes scanning the dark surroundings, hoping his parents will pop up any time. It’s late, so I’m surprised he’s even out at this hour.
“In my house,” he supplies with a bounce in his step.
Clearly, he’s going to be no help at all. I look over at him, trying to figure out if I’ve seen him before. But honestly, I’ve been trying not to get to know anyone, so I know fuck-all.
“What’s your name?”
“Fweddie.”
Yeah, definitely don’t recognize that name.
“I can be a ninja too, wanna see?” he suddenly says, spinning in front of me and then tossing his arms out wildly, which in no way resembles any kind of punch, before throwing his leg up so high that he topples over onto the ground.
I stare down at him. “Hmm.”
He gets up and starts toddling again, not even bothered that he just ate shit. “Can you be my ninja teacher?”
I shake my head as I start to walk again. “No.”
“Pweeeeeeeze,” he says, sticking his bottom lip out as he walks.
“Pouting isn’t gonna work on me, Spawn.”
He scrunches up his face. “What’s a pawn?”
“Spawn,” I correct. “And that’s you.”
His eyes light up. “Like a ninja name?”
“Sure.”
“Cool!” He starts skipping, like that just really set up his life for awesomeness.
We head toward my warehouse, which takes us a ridiculously long time to get there since Spawn stops about every ten seconds to show me something. Every rock, weed, and star is like a spectacular event he needs to tell me about. He also doesn’t stop talking. Ever.
“Why you got two-colored hairs?” he asks, pulling his thumb out of his mouth.
“Because.”
“How come you wear those nets on your legs?”
“They’re tights.”
He shoves a finger up his nose and digs for gold. “I have a night light in my room.”
“Great,” I say dryly.
“Do you wear a diaper?”
I frown. “Of course not.”
“I do,” he says proudly. “But I’m learning how to potty like a big boy.”
My face scrunches, and I shoot him a warning look. “Eww. Don’t ever sit your gross diaper butt on my jacket ever again.”
He giggles. “Diaper butt!” he repeats cheerfully. “Hey, I can draw the number one, wanna see?”
Before I can tell him no, he stops in front of me, nearly making me plow right into him if it weren’t for my quick reflexes.
Diaper butt in the air, he bends down and draws in the dirt with fierce concentration showing over his face. Tongue between teeth, he manages a crooked line before straightening up with a grin. “See?”
I tilt my head as I study it. “I mean, that’s just a line. And it’s not that straight.”
“No, it’s a one,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Don’t you know anything?”
“Don’t be a little shit.”
His eyes grow as wide as saucers, even as he showcases a lopsided grin. “Ooooh, you said a bad word!”
“I’m a grown up. I can say whatever I want.”
“I’m gonna say so many bad words when I’m grown up.”
“Good goal.”
Finally making it to the warehouse—thank a motherfuck—I