Chapter Text
another one of those special days had arrived. they’re few and far between, but the young alfred looks forward to them nonetheless: the day that his clone father, weird al yankovic, gets to visit! weird al usually only sticks around for a few days before he’s forcefully removed by some burly guys in sunglasses, but those few days are some of alfred’s favorites. they get to spend time together, catch up, al brings alfred some gifts from out-of-town, and most exciting of all: alfred gets to show his dad his progress on mastering the accordion—following in his footsteps!
though, as much as alfred is proud to show his progress, he’s also nervous. there’s always a voice in the back of his head that nags at him—reminding him what a phenomenal man his father is, and all that he has to live up to. sure, weird al has a few decades of practice on the 16 year old, but that doesn’t alleviate any pressure, really. people expect him to be just as good as him now ! what if his father expects the same?
this time around, unfortunately, alfred doesn’t have much to show in terms of progress. ever since his dad’s last visit, he’s been flooded with school events and homework. not a whole not of room in-between for accordion noodling.
sitting before his clone father now, he feels all that pressure weigh on his shoulders and hands as they poise before the accordion’s buttons and keys. he keeps his bespectacled gaze away from his dad as he begins to play a little bit of beer barrel polka —the song they always begin with during these lessons.
immediately, they both realize how rusty he is.
his fingers fumble when he tries to keep up the pace, fingertips smashing down on the wrong buttons on one hand—on the other, pressing onto the wrong key, or skipping over one entirely. alfred barely gets into half the beginning before he sighs heavily, stopping in his tracks. the accordion yields a long, awkward note as he drops the bellow in an uncomfortable position.
weird al’s eyebrows raise, taken aback by the sudden defeat. “whatsa matter, sport?”
alfred’s head droops, unable to look at his clone father. the embarrassment was too much to handle. “sorry, i— i haven’t been able to practice lately…” he apologizes, his teenaged voice cracking, bringing him to clear his throat. “that was really, really bad.”
“no, no! you were doing great ! well, you were rushing juuuust a little, but you pretty much got it down.” weird al, chipper and encouraging as ever, tilts his head at his clone son. his voice held a gentleness that put alfred at ease a bit.
with a sigh, he pulled the straps off his shoulders and laid the accordion in his lap, staring at it. “you know, dad, there’s just… something missing when i play. not- not on the accordion but, when i play it i just feel like there’s something that i’m missing. some sort of… layer i haven’t hit yet.” he felt like he was talking nonsense. that nagging feeling was something that was very difficult for him to describe. when he’d put it into words for his friends, they looked at him like he was crazy or something. “you know what i mean?”
finally, he looks up at his clone father. instead of the soft expression he was expecting, he was met with one of seriousness. brows furrowed, a slight squint in his eyes, a deep and even frown. alfred’s taken aback by this, his posture straightening as his heart skips a nervous beat. “uhh… did i say somethi-”
“you’re ready.” his father finally says, his voice deep and gruff, narrowing his gaze as he squints with certainty.
“uhm… ready for what?” alfred picks up his accordion and holds it protectively against his chest, kind of scared.
“get your shoes on, kid.” suddenly, weird al rises from his seat, the wooden chair screeching awfully against the floor and making his standing a little less graceful than he had hoped. “we’re going on an epic father-son adventure .”
once alfred did scramble to throw his shoes on, the two of them marched out of the house and embarked on this epic adventure. for the first few hours of walking (yes, just walking, nothing else), very little details had been given about where exactly they were headed. weird al seemed to know where they were trekking to, but the same couldn’t be said for alfred. he’s a homebody, so really anywhere outside of school and home were completely strange to him… not to mention, they weren’t even in town anymore! somehow, for some reason, his father had taken him out to the middle of practically nowhere. the ground was rough, basically all rock and gravel. if alfred knew they were going to be walking on hard terrain, he would have brought his field trip shoes. his vans weren’t very forgiving on his feet.
they spoke a bit, to fill the silence. discussing events at home for both of them, school stuff for alfred and work stuff for al. but eventually, the conversation began to grow thin. the question about what the hell they’re even doing lingered in alfred’s mind, and al could tell. they had the same brain, after all.
“you know…” weird al began, breaking the silence. he paused briefly, huffing a sigh and looking thoughtfully at the sky “i wasn’t born a master at the accordion. it took a lot of practice! you’re about as good as i was at 16.”
this filled alfred with hope, a glimmer in his eye as he looked up at his clone father. “really?”
“er… well, no, actually. i was better. but you’re good for a 16 year old!” weird al slaps alfred’s back, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him in for a side-hug as they keep walking. alfred’s head droops a bit in disappointment.
“hey, chin up!” with his hand on his son’s shoulder, he jostled him a little. “you won’t suck for much longer, because after this father-son adventure…” his voice lowered again, leaning closer to alfred. “you will possess the secrets that EVERY accordion master that’s ever WALKED THIS EARTH strives to understand.” his arm and hand stretched out, gesturing to the sky in a grandiose, magical manner. “picture it. centuries of knowledge, centuries of secrets , placed right in your lap”
alfred watched his hand curiously, then looked at his father. despite his nervousness, the promise of some secret wisdom filled his chest with excitement. “w—what do you mean? are we going to some sort of museum? i like museums.”
weird al threw his head back and burst into laughter, holding onto his stomach and patting his son’s shoulder. alfred looked at him confused again, an embarrassed blush over his cheeks. did he say something stupid? this laughter went on for a really awkwardly long few seconds, before al finally caught his breath with a pheeeeww! and wiped a tear.
“oohhh, you crack me up, kid! now i see why i got picked on in high school!” he chuckled some more, then sobered after a long, amused sigh. “ look .”
suddenly, al placed his palms against either side of alfred’s head and turned it, making him face ahead and above them—jerking his gangly body with it. his eyes widen.
he’s not sure how he missed it when walking all this time, but there’s no mistaking it now: up ahead towered a volcano, an active one too, judging by the plumes of jet black smoke that emanated from the summit. red, glowing lava pooled from the volcano, glistening and steaming as it crept down the rock that constructed this massive formation. now alfred understood why it seemed to get warmer and warmer the farther they walked.
panic and worry filled the teen, his head still sandwiched between his father’s hands. “w–wait, wait, wait. why are we going to this volcano!? why didn’t i hear about this before!? how did you know this was out here?? why is an active volcano within walking distance of the school??” questions spilled out of his mouth before he could think, his voice cracking with almost every other word.
“soon,” weird al spoke lowly in his son’s ear. “ all questions will be answered .”
“o—okay…” alfred’s voice shook, feeling a bead of sweat drip from his temple. he felt like none of his questions were actually going to be answered. “so, why are you bringing me here…?”
his father released his head, grabbing onto his wrist and leading him toward a safe path at the base of the volcano. “for as long as man has had the squeezebox,” he spoke seriously and menacingly. “every accordion player, at some point in their life, must go through a stage where they overcome great challenges, and experience many changes. physically and mentally. it is a CRUCIAL step to achieve … true manhood. do you know what that is, son?”
alfred pondered, then looked at his father hopefully with a twinkle in his eye. “puberty?”
“NO!” his father shouted in disbelief, his eyebrows furrowing. then his expression softened again with a smile. “finding your way out of an active volcano without dying!”
alfred’s heart dropped to his stomach. “WHAT!?” immediately, the heels of his shoes began to skid against the rock, trying to resist his father’s pull. he was dragged along anyway, dust following his trail. “you’re—you’re JOKING, right!? i–i don’t want to QUESTION your comedic genius or anything, but… THIS ISN’T FUNNY!”
with a vice grip on his son, al sighed a heavy sigh. “look,” with his free hand, he gesticulated defensively. “i KNOW it sounds bad, but every great accordion player does it! trust me! frankie yankovic did it, i had to do it, even my old friend judy tenuta did it as well! rest in peace.” with a hand over his heart, he spoke that last part somberly, but chippered back up quick after. “i–it’s kinda like a right of passage. an unspoken step, if you will.”
i won’t! alfred thought to himself, looking around and wracking his brain for some excuse out of this mess. although, the longer he thought and resisted, the further he was dragged up the volcano. sweat formed underneath his clothes, making him uncomfortable and acutely aware of the fact he forgot to put on deodorant today. not that it mattered, really—since he was totally about to die!
“you know, son… back when i was your age and about to face these trials myself…” al began to reminisce. “i was scared too. but… my mentor, dr. demento, knew what was right for me. he saw the same spark in me that i see in you, kid. and it’s up to me to help fan that spark into a fire. i mean, your amish parents aren’t going to do that, are they?”
“they’re mennonites…”
“same difference.”
it was a long and grueling trek to the top, following the already-paved pathway that led them there. standing at the summit of the volcano, weird al stood confidently aside his son. seeing how relaxed his dad seemed, alfred hesitantly pried his eyes from his father and down into the beast. it was massive. he felt winded just by laying his eyes upon it. the opening gaped like a black hole, the bubbling lava from within blowing and bubbling. the light nearly blinded the boy as he took in what could only be described as the portal to hell itself. heat wafted from the magma below, enveloping alfred.
the overwhelming heat made him lightheaded, and he found himself stumbling slightly. his foot slipped on the edge of the ledge they stood on, rock giving underneath his shoe and tumbling down into the volcano. panicking, he latched tightly onto his father’s arm with squeezed-shut eyes—trembling against him. weird al leaned forward slightly, watching intently as the stray rocks fell lower and lower into the boiling abyss… until finally, the rocks plopped into the lava, too far down for al to see.
“huh. looks fun! i’m getting kinda nostalgic.” he chuckled to himself. “ya ready!?”
al looked at his clinging son, his smiling face falling to one of confusion as he witnessed the terror in alfred’s face. he continued shaking as he clung tighter.
“don’t make me do it!” alfred’s voice cracked, looking up at his dad. “i—i’m not like you! i’m not gonna come out alive!”
“son…” sighing, al’s hands went to alfred’s shoulders, prying him off and forcing him to look at him face-to-face. “i wouldn’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
as he spoke, a little bit of ease filled alfred, feeling a little hopeful.
yes! he’s going to let me go home!
“but…” weird al sighed. “i also know what’s best for you.”
wait.
“and i know you’re a teenager and all, and you think i’m just your crazy old man , and you think you’ve got it all under control…”
oh no.
“but i’m also you . you know that i know what it was like being me as a teenger. and i know you know that i know…”
oh no oh no!
“that we just need…”
oh crap!!
“a little PUSH!”
with a slap on alfred’s back, weird al sends his son diving face-first into the volcano.
…that was easier than he expected. alfred’s about as light as a feather. he really ought to eat more!
and so, without a second thought, weird al turned on his heel and walked back down the volcano—whistling a tune to drown out the descending screams of his son as he plummeted toward the lava.