DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN A.N.T. Farm. I do, however, own several OCs.
Chyna lounged on the musty couch in the MutA.N.T. Farm, tapping away at her MutA.N.T. Pad, listening joyfully to the shrieks it omitted. Olive was mixing unknown chemicals at her desk, and Fletcher was sipping from a juicebox full of blood as he dusted off his dead body collection.
Principal Skidmore, the witch—literally—burst into the room. Imagine ominous music and lightning… now! As she saunters with measured footsteps to Chyna's side!
Skidmore cleared her throat loudly, and Chyna looked up. "Oh, do you have a cold?" she asked sweetly, though she didn't quite care either way.
Sighing, Skidmore clasped her wrinkled hands together and shook her head. "I need you to tell all these brats that in a few minutes, one of my old coworkers is going to come in and check on how all the new freak—I mean, MutA.N.T.s are doing. So you better not turn her to stone or anything!"
With that, she stormed back out of the room, her tacky high heels click-clacking on the tiled floor all the way down the hall.
"Hey, everyone!" Chyna yelled. "Some old lady is gonna come in here and check on us soon and Principal Skidmore says we have to be nice or else!"
No one even looked up. Shrugging, Chyna flopped back down on the couch, a puff of dust rising as she hit it, and returned to staring at her MutA.N.T. Pad.
In about five minutes, a woman walked into the MutA.N.T. Farm with a bright smile on her face. Gibson waddled to the door.
"Welcome to… THE MUTA.N.T. FARM!" he cried dramatically as, unbeknownst to him, a young monster with a large brain mimicked his actions behind him. "I love doing that," he finished with a big grin on his face. The woman's smile brightened.
"It's nice to see you again, Gibson."
"You too!" replied the stripey mummy enthusiastically. "Wait… who're you again?"
The lady just laughed and moved to sit on the couch. "Excuse me, miss, but who are you?" asked Chyna curiously. The woman looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties. Either she was a monster who aged at a different rate than other people, or she just looked really young. After all, she couldn't be Skidmore's old coworker… could she?
"My name's Rune Garcia. I used to work at the school before starting a business brewing potions for profit. Didn't Principal Skidmore tell you I was coming?"
"Oh, she did," Olive assured Rune, "but we didn't expect you to be… so not old."
Laughing, Rune replied, "Well, I can't blame you. I would've expected me to be old, too. So, is there anything in particular that you kids would like to speak to me about?"
"Can you tell me how to preserve dead bodies?" Fletcher asked hopefully, motioning to his collection. "Bobby's rotting a little."
"No… but I have a couple friends you can ask. I'll give you their numbers later."
"Do you have any salt for this leg?" asked Angus, holding up a severed leg.
"Sorry, no. I'm sure the blood is salty enough," Rune assured him with a smile.
"I have one," said Chyna, frowning a little. "A question, I mean. Why do all the humans hate us so much? And if they all hate us, and worry that we'll kill them, then why was the MutA.N.T. Farm even created?"
Olive rolled her eyes. "Chyna, we've been over this! We're different, and humans just don't like anything that's different. The MutA.N.T. Farm was probably just created because they were too scared to refuse when monsters wanted their kids to have educations, and we're all so young because the humans want monsters out of their schools as soon as possible. End of story."
"Has it really been so long that you young monsters don't know the origins of human-monster schools?" wondered Rune, looking a bit aghast. "I mean, it's only been, what… twenty years?"
"Sorry, Ms. Rune," said Fletcher as he watched with revulsion as Angus gnawed on the leg he'd torn from a cheerleader, "but I don't know what you're talking about."
"Haven't you kids ever wondered about our origins? About monster origins?" asked Rune.
"Not really," the kids all answered in unison. Rune tugged at her wild black hair.
"Not at all? That kinda hurts, kids. I mean, I was at the center of the whole thing—the MutA.N.T. Farm, the savior of our peoples. Things may seem bad to you now, but trust me, it was a whole lot worse when I was around your age. I'm talking 'end-of-all-monster-children-as-we-know-it' kind of bad."
"Will you tell us about it?" asked Chyna, all four young monsters watching Rune with widened eyes.
"Well, sure I'll tell you!" said Rune, delighted. "But I warn you—I like to go into incredible detail with this particular story. After all, it took up two years of my life! You may fall asleep… and I may have to come back several times to finish it."
Suddenly, the monsters didn't look so sure about having her tell them about the MutA.N.T. Farm origins.
"But it truly is a wonderful story!" Rune assured them, sounding almost hopeful. "Full of adventure, romance, art, challenges… and death."
The kids sat up intently once more, and Rune chuckled lightly to herself. She knew that last one would get them to listen. Young monsters are all so alike in some ways, no matter the generation. Rune Garcia settled back into the cushiony, musty old couch, and readied herself to begin telling her story.
A/N: So, that's my first chapter. As you can see, it won't really be focused on the A.N.T.s. And it will probably be rather long. I do, however, plan on making a sequel to this story that's about the A.N.T.s' own adventures as monsters. Review please! Seriously, I really, really appreciate reviews.