I should be lying in bed trying to escape my incredible migraine, but instead I'm going to write this crappy one shot because I'm bored. Ahhhh. My head. It's because of my original. Every time I look at it, I go Ahhhh. I'm almost halfway done. Almost. Anyway, don't own Artemis.
Artemis stormed into the kitchen none to pleased.
"Mother," he said in his I-am-the-king-of-everything-so-fear-me voice "the cook put mayonnaise on my sandwich."
"A little mayonnaise won't hurt you, sweetie," his mother replied passively. She was looking through a cookbook, musing whether to have chicken or roast beef. Neither would be easy to make, especially with Artemis's pickiness. It scared Angeline how alike he was to his father, what with his constant demands and bull stubbornness if they were not met. Of course, him being a child genius didn't make matters any better, because he knew when he was getting the short end of the stick. Artemis seemed to know everything, actually, and this scared Angeline even more. She once read in a news article how kids who know too much grow with paranormal dysfunctions and mental breakdowns. Though Artemis had probably heard the same thing about himself, and was too smart to let it happen.
Angeline sighed. "Sometimes," she wondered aloud "I wonder what Artemis would be like if his cousin hadn't dropped him on his head."
"Excuse me?" Angeline's head shot up. Artemis was standing over the kitchen island, paused between scraping the mayonnaise of his sandwich and looking at himself in the glass butter knife. Angeline had been so lost in thought; she'd forgotten her son had even come in.
"Excuse me," Artemis repeated "did you say…did you say dropped me on my head?" Oh boy. Not good. Not good at all.
"Well…not exactly drop…I mean…you were hardly one…" Her voice trailed off. Artemis was still staring at her, as if to bore right into her thoughts.
"What happened?" he asked, curious. Curious and mad. Angeline sighed.
"It happened here, actually," she explained. "In the kitchen…"
Deja was trying to busy herself in the kitchen, but of course, it was no good. Family Christmas's were always inevitably boring, aside from the fragment of the night where uncle Greg drinks himself to the floor. That always gets a few laughs. But other then that, it's like the AC droning in a dead silent classroom. The only thing talked about during Fowl reunions is business, fashion, and other people. And excuse her if those aren't the top three things to talk about during the Christmas Holidays, but she gets enough of all of them during school. And the Christmas Holidays were meant to get away from school, not bringing school to her.
Sometimes Deja secretly thought the teachers planned it to be that way.
"Everything alright, Deja?" Mrs. Fowl asked, walking into the kitchen. Little Arty was cradle in her arms, sucking compulsively at his thumb. His baby teeth were growing in at a young age, a sign of intelligence. Or so everyone said.
"Yeah, a little bored," Deja, confessed.
Angeline smiled. "That's understandable. You are the youngest one here, next to little Artykins." Artemis took his thumb out and smacked his lips, as if to agree with his mother. Maybe he was smart.
"Can you take him for a second?" Ms. Fowl asked. "I need to give him some milk before he takes a nap."
"Sure," Deja said, shuffling the little bambino into her arms. He was cute, adorable even. His eyes were wide and blue, and his cheeks were perfectly rounded. Deja rested him on one arm, reaching out with the other to stroke his thin baby hair.
And that's when it happened. Like a serpent Artemis dug his little teeth into his cousin's skin, to the point that it broke. In a moment of pain Deja forgot the baby in her arms and grabbed the wound below her just below her wrist.
A resounding thud echoed throughout the kitchen. No one had time to even blink. One moment, Artemis was in her arms, and the next, he was on the floor, screaming.
"Oh my God," Deja said shaking "Oh my God…" Ms. Fowl had past on the floor, just as the family rushed in.
"Murder," screamed one of the Aunts "she's killed the baby!" Of course, everyone knew this wasn't true. Baby Arty was on the floor, still screaming. Butler scooped him, bobbing him up and down. Mr. Fowl laid Angeline in a resting position and propped her legs up, to get the blood flowing back to her brain. Deja was still tucked away in a corner, completely shaken.
"What happened," Butler asked her calmly. Deja lifted her arm up, revealing the tiny baby teeth embedded in her skin.
"He bit me."
One of the aunts scoffed. "Bit you? Is that what all this is about? He bit you and you dropped him?"
"Please, Lora," Mr. Fowl said sternly. The pompous aunt quieted herself, still looking disapprovingly at Deja. As if she wasn't shaken up enough already.
"I didn't mean to," she whispered.
"It's not your fault," Butler said. Angeline had revived, and was brought to her feet with the help of Mr. Fowl and another uncle.
"I think," she said "it's time we all go take a short rest, eh?"
No one argued.
"And that's what happened," Ms. Fowl finished. She looked at her son for some sort of reply, but now he was looking at the butter knife in deep pensive.
"But if my baby teeth had been coming in, and it showed signs of intelligence, then me falling on my head had nothing to do with it."
Angeline laughed. Her son sounded so worried. "It's just one of those things that came floating into my head, Arty. Don't worry." But he did worry. As his mother left the room, his hand unconsciously touched the back of his head. Then he waved it dismissively, and moved on.
And that's my theory of how Artemis became smart. I might add other ficlets to this I'm not sure. Anyway, read and review.
Wandering Mind.