The Venture Bros, Dr. Girlfriend/The Monarch, real names 2/2
By midnight, Rusty had decided he could officially declear the whole trip a disaster. The conference on genetic ethics had been a disaster, the audience not too warm Rusty's economical idea of using defective embryos to fuel a new sort of car. Dragging his bag behind him, Dr. Venture stumbled into his home rubbing his eyes with one hand while Hank and Dean circled him, talking a mile a minute.
"Dad, did Dr. I tell you? He taught us how to pull coins out of our ears!" "There are ghosts in the compound!" Hank exclaimed as his father all but pushed him away, like an overeager dog. "Not this ghost crap again! Hank, you're grounded from the television for the rest of the week!" Dr. Venture felt momentarily bad for taking out his frustrations on Hank, but only very momentarily, before the twin's chatter felt like a knife in the back of his head. "I want both of you in your learning beds, and no cracking the lid to make rude faces at each other." With that he slammed the bedroom door and began to undress, stripping off coat, shoes, unbuttoning his shirt as he stretched.
With a groan just to make sure everyone knew how exhausted he was, Dr. Venture fell backwards into his sheets, tossing his glasses to the side. And then, slowly, he sat up, turning to squint at the large, damp stain spread across his comforter.
God dammit.
Leave it to the twins to not only sneak into his room while he was gone, but spill food all over the sheets while they were at it. He thought about getting up to change them, but what was a little apple juice anyway? He could clean it up in the morning, Dr. Venture thought as he wearily climbed into bed and shut off the light.