ShinyMachoke
Hitmonchan Defense Squad
- Location
- USA
- Pronouns
- He/they
A03 link
Summary: Elder Kettle, left with the young Cuphead in his care, has the wonderful idea one day to make him a brother. At least, he hopes it's a good idea...
Takes place about a decade-ish before the game. Depending on how old you interpret the Cup brothers to be.
(This story only uses the game as a basis and not the show or any other media)
Rating: All ages
Themes: Family, brotherly bonding, children getting up to hijinx, alchemy (Mugman's creation)
In the realm of the astral plane, the ghosts of ancient warriors brimmed with anticipation. They surrounded a glowing, pulsing ball of energy, circling it in billowing wisps. The fallen fighters sensed it to be a soul of one of their own, a descendant of the fabled Calix Animi. A being of brilliant gold suddenly appeared. It reached through the spirits to cradle the small soul in its massive hands. The spectres sped into a swirling blur, the soul now beating with tangible power.
Meanwhile, in the domain of the living, Elder Kettle was carefully adding a few drops of a mysterious elixir from an eyedropper into a glass jar, completely oblivious to the celebration occurring in the other dimension. Though it was a beautiful, balmy day, Elder worked in the dark cellar beneath his humble kettle-shaped home. The old-timer observed the inky black concoction. It bubbled briefly before growing still. Frowning, he touched the surface of the container. It thrummed with the steadiness of a heartbeat. A smile grew under his metal moustache.
The creation of a dish person wasn’t too complex. That is, if one were intending to make a baby, as most people did. But certain challenges arose if one wanted to bring an older being to fruition. It was possible, of course; in times of war, soldiers could be quickly manifested, turning the tide in battle. Yet finding that middle ground to create a slightly older child, well, those methods were not well-documented and required very precise ratios. But Elder Kettle was both a retired veteran and a profecient alchemist. Skills that most people would not expect from the rusty old dishware.
As Elder Kettle contemplated if he should add a touch more “caution” or not, a row of tiny porcelain digits appeared on the work table’s edge, followed by a red and white straw.
“Is he here yet?” a little cup boy dressed in red overalls asked in a squeaky voice. Hanging from the side of the table, he tried to hoist himself up.
“Almost, Cuppy! But please get down from there and pull up a chair instead.”
“Okay!”
Cuphead let go of the table and landed on his feet with a hard thud. Elder winced, yet Cuphead was perfectly fine. He grabbed a nearby stool and pushed it up to the table, its wooden legs scraping audibly against the stone floor.
“Now don’t move a muscle and keep your hands to yourself, all right? We can’t have any accidents.”
“What’ll happen if you flub it up? Will my brother be a monster?” Cuphead marveled at the large ivory-colored mug and pile of neatly folded blue clothing that would become his sibling.
“Nothing of that sort, I’d just have to start from scratch,” Elder replied with a sigh.
Half a year ago, little Cuphead was left in Elder Kettle’s care as a favor to Kettle’s army buddy, a man he’d taken under his wing and treated like a surrogate son. He was rather surprised when his friend not only got married right after the war, but became a father soon after. Both parents enjoyed adventuring, so Elder Kettle often minded their young child, and was rather fond of him too. The last time Kettle saw his friend, he and his wife left on what was supposed to be a week-long mission. Which turned into months of radio silence. Elder feared the worst, until one day he received a letter from his friend stating that he and his wife decided it would be best if they let Elder keep Cuphead and raise him as his own grandchild.
Of all the nerve...
Kettle never told the complete truth to Cuphead, just telling him that his parents were very busy and that he’d be living with Elder from now on. Since Cuphead spent so much time living with Elder anyhow, the adjustment wasn't too difficult, and he even had a few local friends his own age. Still, Kettle sensed a perpetual aura of loneliness in Cuphead. He sometimes asked when his mother and father would come back. Kettle had a sudden idea one day to create a brother for the rambunctious cup boy. Surely, a new sibling could fill that familial void.
Or perhaps Elder Kettle was just inviting even more trouble into his life.
He picked up a flask containing the final ingredient and carefully poured it into the jar. The liquid shimmered like a sea of stars. Cuphead stood on the stool and bounced quietly in place. Though it was challenging for him to stay put, he knew how important it was for him to obey his grandfather’s request to remain still.
Elder Kettle lifted the jar, his eyes sparkling like the elixir inside. He turned to Cuphead and winked. “Ready to meet your new buddy, Cuphead?”
Cuphead nodded eagerly. Elder’s elation and anticipation masked his nervousness. He poured the thick ink-like fluid into the awaiting mug.
No turning back.
The inhabitants of the astral plane burst into celebratory fervor. The golden figure raised the glowing soul over their head, now beating with thunderous might. A large, single eye manifested on the being. It opened wide, observing the soul, then closed in a silent blessing. A new warrior of the Calix Animi had been born.
A cloud of blue smoke had burst from the mug. Coughing, Elder Kettle grabbed a rag and waved it to clear the air. Cuphead gasped. The smoke dissipated, leaving in its wake a small boy wearing blue overalls, a black shirt, and brown shoes. Though he sat sitting upright, his eyes were closed, as if he were asleep. A blue and white straw, much like Cuphead’s, bobbed in his head. After a moment, the child stirred. He opened his eyes, blinking blearily.
“Mugman!” Cuphead shouted. Before Elder Kettle could stop him, Cuphead leapt across the table and tackled the boy into a big hug.
“Cuphead, stop! Dagnabbit!”
“Mugman?” a small voice murmured. Elder stopped himself from grabbing his grandson, marveling at his creation’s first words. Cuphead pulled away but stared intensely at his brother, grinning widely. The blue-clad boy continued. “I-is that my name?”
“Well, Mugman can be your name if you’d like!” Kettle answered jovially. Mugman turned to his creator, seemingly startled by another person in his presence. “I am Elder Kettle, and I-”
“Hi, I’m Cuphead, and I’m you’re brother!”
Mugman mouthed the word “brother” silently to himself. Cuphead took his hand and pulled him to his feet. Mugman wobbled slightly.
“C’mon, Mugman, let’s go play!” Cuphead jumped to the stool and climbed down with impressive speed. Mugman followed with a waver to his gait. He walked right off the edge of the table, Elder quickly nabbing him by his overall straps, mere inches from shattering his noggin all over the floor.
“Mugman, you must be more careful!” Elder scolded as he gingerly placed Mugman down. Oblivious to his words, Mugman took off after his brother, who had begun clambering up the stairs of the cellar. Already the technical newborn was adept at running, much to the chagrin of his harried caretaker.
“Hurry up, slow poke!” Cuphead urged on.
“My name is Mugman!” he protested in a whiny tone. Mugman stopped just short of the wooden stairs leading to the rest of the house. He paced back and forth, unsure of how to proceed. Clutching his cane, Elder ambled towards his grandson.
“Hold on, Mugman, I’ll help you,” he called. Completely ignoring the old man once again, Mugman shot up the stairs on all fours, miraculously not tripping at all. Once he reached the top, he and Cuphead disappeared from view.
Elder Kettle sighed wearily. Just what had he gotten himself into?
By the time the old dishfolk made it to the top of the stairs, he was relieved to not be met with disaster. Cuphead, holding Mugman’s hand, was pointing out the various furniture and objects in the living room, giving his new brother a tour. Mugman nodded silently, taking in the bombardment of information in stride. Kettle smiled at the sight. They really did resemble brothers of the same age, with just enough variation in their physical features to appear related but not identical. While he wished Cuphead would curb his hyperactivity, he was glad that the boy took to his new sibling with such unbridled enthusiasm.
“Let’s go outside now!” Cuphead announced, practically jerking Mugman in a different direction.
“Now slow down Cuppy,” Elder said, blocking the children’s path with his cane. Mugman stared at it with the wide-eyed look of a timid animal. Elder softened his stern expression. Did Mugman really fear him?
“You boys hadn’t had lunch yet. I’ll whip up some sandwiches, and then you can play outside.”
“What are sandwiches?” Mugman quietly asked his brother.
“Oh, you’ll love them!”
A little while later, once Mugman had his first taste of food (emulating Cuphead, who displayed decent table manners at the insistence of Elder Kettle), his mild demeanor turned to pure joy.
“You’re right, Cuphead! I do love sandwiches!”
“Wait’ll you try pancakes, they’re the bee’s knees!”
Mugman turned to Elder Kettle. Any trepidation he had about his caretaker seemed to have vanished. If giving the boy food did the trick, then so be it. “Elder, can we have pancakes?”
“Pancakes are a breakfast food, but I can make them in the morning.”
“What’s mor-”
“Muggy, watch this!”
Before Elder could react, Cuphead dunked the wedge of his sandwich into his head, then took a big bite. “It’s really good!” he said through puffed cheeks. Mugman immediately copied his brother, making a less-than-thrilled face at the sensation of eating sopping wet bread, cheese and tomato. He ate the rest quickly, as if wanting to get his meal over with.
“Well, I see that lunch is over,” Elder huffed, a plume of steam drifting from his spout. “Now, you boys help clean up.”
“But you said that we can go outside!”
“Your behavior shows that I need to watch you two more closely. So please bring your dishes to the sink.”
Cuphead curled his hands into fists, pouting. Mugman slipped from his chair and gathered up his dishes, which prompted his brother to sigh in defeat and do the same. Elder turned on the kitchen faucet, smiling triumphantly. It seemed the extra teaspoon of “obedience” was a good call.
The moment Elder placed the final clean plate into the cupboard, Cuphead yanked Mugman by the hand and lead him to the front door. Elder followed the children at a leisurely pace, wanting to ease up the authoritarianism on Mugman’s first day of life.
While Cuphead ran in wide circles in the front yard, Mugman remained at the door’s entryway. He rubbed his eyes at the bright afternoon sunlight. The warm air, singing birds, looming trees, all exciting yet overwhelming to the small dish boy. Elder Kettle strolled to his side.
“Mugman, do you see that white picket fence just over yonder?”
Mugman followed to where Elder pointed with his cane. He nodded in affirmation.
“Go and remind Cuphead that neither of you are not allowed to stray beyond that fence. Not today. I need you kids to stay in the yard. Understand?”
“I understand, Elder.” Elder smiled and gave Mugman a gentle pat on the shoulder. He turned to sit down in the front porch rocking chair.
Mugman suddenly felt a light slap on his back, making him jump. “Tag, you’re it!” Cuphead shouted. He took off before Mugman could correct him on his name not being “it”. Mugman gave chase, though he remained puzzled on what exactly was going on. Just as he got close, Cuphead ran faster, getting further away from his brother. Mugman slowed his pace. A unpleasant sensation burned in his chest, different from how hard his heart pounded from running.
Cuphead wanted to get away from him. But why? What had he done wrong? Mugman just stood in place, overcome with confusion and rejection.
It didn’t take long for Cuphead to notice something amiss. He cautiously approached his brother, torn between concern and still being in the game.
“Hey, what’s the matter, Muggy? Why’d you quit chasing me?”
“Why are you running away from me?” he sniffled, rubbing his blue nose. His eyes strung and his vision blurred.
“We’re playing tag, silly!” Cuphead laughed. He explained to Mugman how the simple game worked. As he listened, that painful feeling was replaced with curiosity.
“So when I tag you, you’re it?” Mugman asked.
“Yup!”
Mugman smiled widely. He slapped Cuphead on the arm. “Then tag, you’re it!”
“Ooh, that was a dirty trick, ya stinker!”
It didn’t take long for Cuphead to catch up to his brother and tag him. Mugman laughed as he gave chase. Even if his time as “not it” was short-lived, he was enjoying this game. As the kids played, Elder looked on from his vantage point in the rocking chair. This was the exact outcome he had hoped for. For the first time since he awoke this morning, Elder felt a sense of peace. He sighed in contentment, eyelids growing heavy.
After a few minutes of tag, both boys grew tired of running, yet Cuphead was not ready to take a break. At least, not in the typical way. “Mugman, follow me,” he said. They approached a tire hanging from a tree. Further from the kettle house, but still a reasonable distance from the property line. Mugman had become better at anticipating Cuphead’s intentions. He climbed into the swing without prompt, though he needed a little boost from his brother. Cuphead scrambled to the top of the tire. Grabbing onto the rope, he used his body to move the swing back and forth.
“Hold on tight, Muggy, we’re gonna fly!”
Mugman wedged his feet into the tire and clutched the rubbery sides with a vice-like grip. Already he found the sensation of swaying through the air just a bit frightening. He was reminded of the jolt of freefall back in the cellar. A moment easily forgotten in the excitement of being alive; seeing new things, eating delicious food, playing with his brother. Learning so many rules, from good manners to how to play a game.
One moment Mugman saw the bright blue sky and puffy white clouds. The next, he felt himself racing backwards, the ground nothing more than a green and brown blur, until he hung in the air for a few heart-stopping seconds, then began the sickening lurch back towards the open sky. Closing his eyes made everything even scarier. Mugman realized that, though he knew Cuphead was right above him, cheering and laughing, this was the longest he’d gone without the red-clad cup in his sights. The unfamiliarity of loneliness wormed its way in, carving an uncomfortable void in his chest.
Just then, Cuphead popped into view, looking at Mugman upside-down. “Prepare for landing! It’ll take awhile, so make yourself comfortable.”
Mugman nodded, relieved at the sight of his favorite person. He wasn’t sure what preparing for landing entailed, so he just remained in place as he had been. Cuphead planted his heels onto the tire and leaned back as far as he could, tugging the rope taut. As the swing eased into a gentle sway, Mugman found himself missing the thrill of careening through the air.
A red, black, and white blur whizzed past Mugman, followed by the small “oof” of Cuphead landing on the ground. He brushed himself off, then held his hands out towards the tire.
“Come on, buddy, I’ll help ya down.”
Mugman leaned out of the tire, only for it to suddenly flip and send him smacking into the ground. The impact shot spikes of pain through his hands and knees, and knocked the air completely from his lungs. His vision turned blurry. Tears pricked his eyes.
“Whew, that smarts,” Cuphead commented. Anxiety crept up on him when he saw Mugman’s glossy eyes and shallow breaths. He quickly helped him sit up.
“Hey, hey, Mugman, buddy, you’re all right! You just gotta sit down for a moment! Don’t cry, okay?”
“Whu-at’s cry?” Mugman stammered. Panicked, Cuphead glanced back towards the house, then joined his brother by his side in the grass.
“The, uh, that watery thing with your eyes. You’re don’t gotta do that, Muggy. I know you’re new and all, but we’re dishes! We’re made of tough stuff! I skinned my knee yesterday and didn’t cry once.”
Cuphead pointed to the frayed bandage on his knee, which Mugman hadn’t noticed before. His own knees and palms were smudged with dirt, but he was otherwise fine. He certainly didn’t need a bandage. Cuphead didn’t mention the smaller wrapping on his finger, where Elder Kettle pricked it to get a drop of blood for Mugman’s creation. He flinched but didn’t cry, and even got a piece of candy for being so brave.
Mugman sniffed back his tears and swallowed thickly. While still shaken, he already felt the stinging pain begin to dull.
They sat together in silence. Mugman took in his surroundings. The prickliness of the grass beneath him. How odd it felt when the warm breeze shifted the straw in his head. The gentle sway of the trees and their rustling leaves. All of the tiny critters flitting about, too small, quick or far away for Mugman to get a good look at. Cuphead squeezed his hand slightly. He loved how warm and grounding it felt.
“Hey Mugman. I wanna show you someplace really keen. But you can’t tell anyone about it.”
This was the first time today that Cuphead spoke in such a subdued way. Something about his tone made Mugman’s stomach a little uneasy, like when he ate that wet sandwich.
“I can’t tell Elder Kettle?”
“Especially not Elder Kettle! Can I trust ya, Mugman?”
“Um...”
Mugman wrung his hands. He turned and looked towards the house. Elder Kettle sat in his rocking chair, little puffs of steam floating from his spout. His eyes were shut. He appeared so puny in the distance.
“Is Elder Kettle all right?”
Cuphead scoffed. “Pfft, yeah, he’s fine. He’s just an old geezer who sleeps a lot. Come on, we’ll be back before he wakes up.”
“Back before he...?”
Cuphead had gotten up and made his way to the dirt path. The one that went beyond the white picket fence.
“Cuphead wait!” Mugman cried out. He stood straight up, but didn’t leave his spot. “Elder said that we’re not supposed to leave the yard today!”
Cuphead stopped dead in his tracks. He turned, locking eyes with Mugman.
“Look, Mugman. For a really long time, it’s just been me and Kettle. No mom or dad. Nobody to play or have fun with. Nobody I could show my secret hideout to. Until today. The day I got a brother.” He smiled sincerely at Mugman, no trace of impishness on his face.
Mugman glanced back towards the house, and then to his brother. He had no idea what would happen if they left and Elder Kettle found out. He’d seen moments of his scariness. But also kindness. A voice inside him told him that they should remain close to the house, as Elder said.
Cuphead’s smile faded. He shoved his hands into his overall pockets, looked down to the ground, and kicked a stone.
“Shucks. I thought you were real swell, Mugman. But you don’t even wanna see my hideout.”
“I do wanna see your hideout! But...”
Mugman took several steps towards his brother.
“We’ll be back before he wakes up? He won’t know we’re gone?”
“We’ll be back lickety-split! It’s not too far, I promise!”
Mugman quickly weighed his options. When he was brought to life, Cuphead was the first person he saw, even before Kettle. Being alive for so much longer, Cuphead was most definitely wise. Everytime Mugman felt uncertain, or scared, or hurt, Cuphead made him feel better. No matter what, Mugman felt safe with him.
He trusted him.
“I want to see your hideout, Cuphead! And I won’t tell anyone! I promise!”
Cuphead grinned his gap-toothed smile. He made a big sweeping motion with his arm. “Then what’re we waiting for? Let’s go, slow poke!”
“My name is Mugman, not slow poke!” he said, this time with a humored lilt. The dish brothers marched down the path, past the fence, neither one faltering in hesitation.
To be continued...
Notes: I'm aware that the backstory of Cuphead's parents is similar to Arnold's in "Hey Arnold". Except that they blatantly abandoned him.
Summary: Elder Kettle, left with the young Cuphead in his care, has the wonderful idea one day to make him a brother. At least, he hopes it's a good idea...
Takes place about a decade-ish before the game. Depending on how old you interpret the Cup brothers to be.
(This story only uses the game as a basis and not the show or any other media)
Rating: All ages
Themes: Family, brotherly bonding, children getting up to hijinx, alchemy (Mugman's creation)
In the realm of the astral plane, the ghosts of ancient warriors brimmed with anticipation. They surrounded a glowing, pulsing ball of energy, circling it in billowing wisps. The fallen fighters sensed it to be a soul of one of their own, a descendant of the fabled Calix Animi. A being of brilliant gold suddenly appeared. It reached through the spirits to cradle the small soul in its massive hands. The spectres sped into a swirling blur, the soul now beating with tangible power.
Meanwhile, in the domain of the living, Elder Kettle was carefully adding a few drops of a mysterious elixir from an eyedropper into a glass jar, completely oblivious to the celebration occurring in the other dimension. Though it was a beautiful, balmy day, Elder worked in the dark cellar beneath his humble kettle-shaped home. The old-timer observed the inky black concoction. It bubbled briefly before growing still. Frowning, he touched the surface of the container. It thrummed with the steadiness of a heartbeat. A smile grew under his metal moustache.
The creation of a dish person wasn’t too complex. That is, if one were intending to make a baby, as most people did. But certain challenges arose if one wanted to bring an older being to fruition. It was possible, of course; in times of war, soldiers could be quickly manifested, turning the tide in battle. Yet finding that middle ground to create a slightly older child, well, those methods were not well-documented and required very precise ratios. But Elder Kettle was both a retired veteran and a profecient alchemist. Skills that most people would not expect from the rusty old dishware.
As Elder Kettle contemplated if he should add a touch more “caution” or not, a row of tiny porcelain digits appeared on the work table’s edge, followed by a red and white straw.
“Is he here yet?” a little cup boy dressed in red overalls asked in a squeaky voice. Hanging from the side of the table, he tried to hoist himself up.
“Almost, Cuppy! But please get down from there and pull up a chair instead.”
“Okay!”
Cuphead let go of the table and landed on his feet with a hard thud. Elder winced, yet Cuphead was perfectly fine. He grabbed a nearby stool and pushed it up to the table, its wooden legs scraping audibly against the stone floor.
“Now don’t move a muscle and keep your hands to yourself, all right? We can’t have any accidents.”
“What’ll happen if you flub it up? Will my brother be a monster?” Cuphead marveled at the large ivory-colored mug and pile of neatly folded blue clothing that would become his sibling.
“Nothing of that sort, I’d just have to start from scratch,” Elder replied with a sigh.
Half a year ago, little Cuphead was left in Elder Kettle’s care as a favor to Kettle’s army buddy, a man he’d taken under his wing and treated like a surrogate son. He was rather surprised when his friend not only got married right after the war, but became a father soon after. Both parents enjoyed adventuring, so Elder Kettle often minded their young child, and was rather fond of him too. The last time Kettle saw his friend, he and his wife left on what was supposed to be a week-long mission. Which turned into months of radio silence. Elder feared the worst, until one day he received a letter from his friend stating that he and his wife decided it would be best if they let Elder keep Cuphead and raise him as his own grandchild.
Of all the nerve...
Kettle never told the complete truth to Cuphead, just telling him that his parents were very busy and that he’d be living with Elder from now on. Since Cuphead spent so much time living with Elder anyhow, the adjustment wasn't too difficult, and he even had a few local friends his own age. Still, Kettle sensed a perpetual aura of loneliness in Cuphead. He sometimes asked when his mother and father would come back. Kettle had a sudden idea one day to create a brother for the rambunctious cup boy. Surely, a new sibling could fill that familial void.
Or perhaps Elder Kettle was just inviting even more trouble into his life.
He picked up a flask containing the final ingredient and carefully poured it into the jar. The liquid shimmered like a sea of stars. Cuphead stood on the stool and bounced quietly in place. Though it was challenging for him to stay put, he knew how important it was for him to obey his grandfather’s request to remain still.
Elder Kettle lifted the jar, his eyes sparkling like the elixir inside. He turned to Cuphead and winked. “Ready to meet your new buddy, Cuphead?”
Cuphead nodded eagerly. Elder’s elation and anticipation masked his nervousness. He poured the thick ink-like fluid into the awaiting mug.
No turning back.
The inhabitants of the astral plane burst into celebratory fervor. The golden figure raised the glowing soul over their head, now beating with thunderous might. A large, single eye manifested on the being. It opened wide, observing the soul, then closed in a silent blessing. A new warrior of the Calix Animi had been born.
A cloud of blue smoke had burst from the mug. Coughing, Elder Kettle grabbed a rag and waved it to clear the air. Cuphead gasped. The smoke dissipated, leaving in its wake a small boy wearing blue overalls, a black shirt, and brown shoes. Though he sat sitting upright, his eyes were closed, as if he were asleep. A blue and white straw, much like Cuphead’s, bobbed in his head. After a moment, the child stirred. He opened his eyes, blinking blearily.
“Mugman!” Cuphead shouted. Before Elder Kettle could stop him, Cuphead leapt across the table and tackled the boy into a big hug.
“Cuphead, stop! Dagnabbit!”
“Mugman?” a small voice murmured. Elder stopped himself from grabbing his grandson, marveling at his creation’s first words. Cuphead pulled away but stared intensely at his brother, grinning widely. The blue-clad boy continued. “I-is that my name?”
“Well, Mugman can be your name if you’d like!” Kettle answered jovially. Mugman turned to his creator, seemingly startled by another person in his presence. “I am Elder Kettle, and I-”
“Hi, I’m Cuphead, and I’m you’re brother!”
Mugman mouthed the word “brother” silently to himself. Cuphead took his hand and pulled him to his feet. Mugman wobbled slightly.
“C’mon, Mugman, let’s go play!” Cuphead jumped to the stool and climbed down with impressive speed. Mugman followed with a waver to his gait. He walked right off the edge of the table, Elder quickly nabbing him by his overall straps, mere inches from shattering his noggin all over the floor.
“Mugman, you must be more careful!” Elder scolded as he gingerly placed Mugman down. Oblivious to his words, Mugman took off after his brother, who had begun clambering up the stairs of the cellar. Already the technical newborn was adept at running, much to the chagrin of his harried caretaker.
“Hurry up, slow poke!” Cuphead urged on.
“My name is Mugman!” he protested in a whiny tone. Mugman stopped just short of the wooden stairs leading to the rest of the house. He paced back and forth, unsure of how to proceed. Clutching his cane, Elder ambled towards his grandson.
“Hold on, Mugman, I’ll help you,” he called. Completely ignoring the old man once again, Mugman shot up the stairs on all fours, miraculously not tripping at all. Once he reached the top, he and Cuphead disappeared from view.
Elder Kettle sighed wearily. Just what had he gotten himself into?
By the time the old dishfolk made it to the top of the stairs, he was relieved to not be met with disaster. Cuphead, holding Mugman’s hand, was pointing out the various furniture and objects in the living room, giving his new brother a tour. Mugman nodded silently, taking in the bombardment of information in stride. Kettle smiled at the sight. They really did resemble brothers of the same age, with just enough variation in their physical features to appear related but not identical. While he wished Cuphead would curb his hyperactivity, he was glad that the boy took to his new sibling with such unbridled enthusiasm.
“Let’s go outside now!” Cuphead announced, practically jerking Mugman in a different direction.
“Now slow down Cuppy,” Elder said, blocking the children’s path with his cane. Mugman stared at it with the wide-eyed look of a timid animal. Elder softened his stern expression. Did Mugman really fear him?
“You boys hadn’t had lunch yet. I’ll whip up some sandwiches, and then you can play outside.”
“What are sandwiches?” Mugman quietly asked his brother.
“Oh, you’ll love them!”
A little while later, once Mugman had his first taste of food (emulating Cuphead, who displayed decent table manners at the insistence of Elder Kettle), his mild demeanor turned to pure joy.
“You’re right, Cuphead! I do love sandwiches!”
“Wait’ll you try pancakes, they’re the bee’s knees!”
Mugman turned to Elder Kettle. Any trepidation he had about his caretaker seemed to have vanished. If giving the boy food did the trick, then so be it. “Elder, can we have pancakes?”
“Pancakes are a breakfast food, but I can make them in the morning.”
“What’s mor-”
“Muggy, watch this!”
Before Elder could react, Cuphead dunked the wedge of his sandwich into his head, then took a big bite. “It’s really good!” he said through puffed cheeks. Mugman immediately copied his brother, making a less-than-thrilled face at the sensation of eating sopping wet bread, cheese and tomato. He ate the rest quickly, as if wanting to get his meal over with.
“Well, I see that lunch is over,” Elder huffed, a plume of steam drifting from his spout. “Now, you boys help clean up.”
“But you said that we can go outside!”
“Your behavior shows that I need to watch you two more closely. So please bring your dishes to the sink.”
Cuphead curled his hands into fists, pouting. Mugman slipped from his chair and gathered up his dishes, which prompted his brother to sigh in defeat and do the same. Elder turned on the kitchen faucet, smiling triumphantly. It seemed the extra teaspoon of “obedience” was a good call.
The moment Elder placed the final clean plate into the cupboard, Cuphead yanked Mugman by the hand and lead him to the front door. Elder followed the children at a leisurely pace, wanting to ease up the authoritarianism on Mugman’s first day of life.
While Cuphead ran in wide circles in the front yard, Mugman remained at the door’s entryway. He rubbed his eyes at the bright afternoon sunlight. The warm air, singing birds, looming trees, all exciting yet overwhelming to the small dish boy. Elder Kettle strolled to his side.
“Mugman, do you see that white picket fence just over yonder?”
Mugman followed to where Elder pointed with his cane. He nodded in affirmation.
“Go and remind Cuphead that neither of you are not allowed to stray beyond that fence. Not today. I need you kids to stay in the yard. Understand?”
“I understand, Elder.” Elder smiled and gave Mugman a gentle pat on the shoulder. He turned to sit down in the front porch rocking chair.
Mugman suddenly felt a light slap on his back, making him jump. “Tag, you’re it!” Cuphead shouted. He took off before Mugman could correct him on his name not being “it”. Mugman gave chase, though he remained puzzled on what exactly was going on. Just as he got close, Cuphead ran faster, getting further away from his brother. Mugman slowed his pace. A unpleasant sensation burned in his chest, different from how hard his heart pounded from running.
Cuphead wanted to get away from him. But why? What had he done wrong? Mugman just stood in place, overcome with confusion and rejection.
It didn’t take long for Cuphead to notice something amiss. He cautiously approached his brother, torn between concern and still being in the game.
“Hey, what’s the matter, Muggy? Why’d you quit chasing me?”
“Why are you running away from me?” he sniffled, rubbing his blue nose. His eyes strung and his vision blurred.
“We’re playing tag, silly!” Cuphead laughed. He explained to Mugman how the simple game worked. As he listened, that painful feeling was replaced with curiosity.
“So when I tag you, you’re it?” Mugman asked.
“Yup!”
Mugman smiled widely. He slapped Cuphead on the arm. “Then tag, you’re it!”
“Ooh, that was a dirty trick, ya stinker!”
It didn’t take long for Cuphead to catch up to his brother and tag him. Mugman laughed as he gave chase. Even if his time as “not it” was short-lived, he was enjoying this game. As the kids played, Elder looked on from his vantage point in the rocking chair. This was the exact outcome he had hoped for. For the first time since he awoke this morning, Elder felt a sense of peace. He sighed in contentment, eyelids growing heavy.
After a few minutes of tag, both boys grew tired of running, yet Cuphead was not ready to take a break. At least, not in the typical way. “Mugman, follow me,” he said. They approached a tire hanging from a tree. Further from the kettle house, but still a reasonable distance from the property line. Mugman had become better at anticipating Cuphead’s intentions. He climbed into the swing without prompt, though he needed a little boost from his brother. Cuphead scrambled to the top of the tire. Grabbing onto the rope, he used his body to move the swing back and forth.
“Hold on tight, Muggy, we’re gonna fly!”
Mugman wedged his feet into the tire and clutched the rubbery sides with a vice-like grip. Already he found the sensation of swaying through the air just a bit frightening. He was reminded of the jolt of freefall back in the cellar. A moment easily forgotten in the excitement of being alive; seeing new things, eating delicious food, playing with his brother. Learning so many rules, from good manners to how to play a game.
One moment Mugman saw the bright blue sky and puffy white clouds. The next, he felt himself racing backwards, the ground nothing more than a green and brown blur, until he hung in the air for a few heart-stopping seconds, then began the sickening lurch back towards the open sky. Closing his eyes made everything even scarier. Mugman realized that, though he knew Cuphead was right above him, cheering and laughing, this was the longest he’d gone without the red-clad cup in his sights. The unfamiliarity of loneliness wormed its way in, carving an uncomfortable void in his chest.
Just then, Cuphead popped into view, looking at Mugman upside-down. “Prepare for landing! It’ll take awhile, so make yourself comfortable.”
Mugman nodded, relieved at the sight of his favorite person. He wasn’t sure what preparing for landing entailed, so he just remained in place as he had been. Cuphead planted his heels onto the tire and leaned back as far as he could, tugging the rope taut. As the swing eased into a gentle sway, Mugman found himself missing the thrill of careening through the air.
A red, black, and white blur whizzed past Mugman, followed by the small “oof” of Cuphead landing on the ground. He brushed himself off, then held his hands out towards the tire.
“Come on, buddy, I’ll help ya down.”
Mugman leaned out of the tire, only for it to suddenly flip and send him smacking into the ground. The impact shot spikes of pain through his hands and knees, and knocked the air completely from his lungs. His vision turned blurry. Tears pricked his eyes.
“Whew, that smarts,” Cuphead commented. Anxiety crept up on him when he saw Mugman’s glossy eyes and shallow breaths. He quickly helped him sit up.
“Hey, hey, Mugman, buddy, you’re all right! You just gotta sit down for a moment! Don’t cry, okay?”
“Whu-at’s cry?” Mugman stammered. Panicked, Cuphead glanced back towards the house, then joined his brother by his side in the grass.
“The, uh, that watery thing with your eyes. You’re don’t gotta do that, Muggy. I know you’re new and all, but we’re dishes! We’re made of tough stuff! I skinned my knee yesterday and didn’t cry once.”
Cuphead pointed to the frayed bandage on his knee, which Mugman hadn’t noticed before. His own knees and palms were smudged with dirt, but he was otherwise fine. He certainly didn’t need a bandage. Cuphead didn’t mention the smaller wrapping on his finger, where Elder Kettle pricked it to get a drop of blood for Mugman’s creation. He flinched but didn’t cry, and even got a piece of candy for being so brave.
Mugman sniffed back his tears and swallowed thickly. While still shaken, he already felt the stinging pain begin to dull.
They sat together in silence. Mugman took in his surroundings. The prickliness of the grass beneath him. How odd it felt when the warm breeze shifted the straw in his head. The gentle sway of the trees and their rustling leaves. All of the tiny critters flitting about, too small, quick or far away for Mugman to get a good look at. Cuphead squeezed his hand slightly. He loved how warm and grounding it felt.
“Hey Mugman. I wanna show you someplace really keen. But you can’t tell anyone about it.”
This was the first time today that Cuphead spoke in such a subdued way. Something about his tone made Mugman’s stomach a little uneasy, like when he ate that wet sandwich.
“I can’t tell Elder Kettle?”
“Especially not Elder Kettle! Can I trust ya, Mugman?”
“Um...”
Mugman wrung his hands. He turned and looked towards the house. Elder Kettle sat in his rocking chair, little puffs of steam floating from his spout. His eyes were shut. He appeared so puny in the distance.
“Is Elder Kettle all right?”
Cuphead scoffed. “Pfft, yeah, he’s fine. He’s just an old geezer who sleeps a lot. Come on, we’ll be back before he wakes up.”
“Back before he...?”
Cuphead had gotten up and made his way to the dirt path. The one that went beyond the white picket fence.
“Cuphead wait!” Mugman cried out. He stood straight up, but didn’t leave his spot. “Elder said that we’re not supposed to leave the yard today!”
Cuphead stopped dead in his tracks. He turned, locking eyes with Mugman.
“Look, Mugman. For a really long time, it’s just been me and Kettle. No mom or dad. Nobody to play or have fun with. Nobody I could show my secret hideout to. Until today. The day I got a brother.” He smiled sincerely at Mugman, no trace of impishness on his face.
Mugman glanced back towards the house, and then to his brother. He had no idea what would happen if they left and Elder Kettle found out. He’d seen moments of his scariness. But also kindness. A voice inside him told him that they should remain close to the house, as Elder said.
Cuphead’s smile faded. He shoved his hands into his overall pockets, looked down to the ground, and kicked a stone.
“Shucks. I thought you were real swell, Mugman. But you don’t even wanna see my hideout.”
“I do wanna see your hideout! But...”
Mugman took several steps towards his brother.
“We’ll be back before he wakes up? He won’t know we’re gone?”
“We’ll be back lickety-split! It’s not too far, I promise!”
Mugman quickly weighed his options. When he was brought to life, Cuphead was the first person he saw, even before Kettle. Being alive for so much longer, Cuphead was most definitely wise. Everytime Mugman felt uncertain, or scared, or hurt, Cuphead made him feel better. No matter what, Mugman felt safe with him.
He trusted him.
“I want to see your hideout, Cuphead! And I won’t tell anyone! I promise!”
Cuphead grinned his gap-toothed smile. He made a big sweeping motion with his arm. “Then what’re we waiting for? Let’s go, slow poke!”
“My name is Mugman, not slow poke!” he said, this time with a humored lilt. The dish brothers marched down the path, past the fence, neither one faltering in hesitation.
To be continued...
Notes: I'm aware that the backstory of Cuphead's parents is similar to Arnold's in "Hey Arnold". Except that they blatantly abandoned him.