Disclaimer: I don't own Daily Life With A Monster Girl, and anything that came up by coincidence is purely accidental.

"Speech"

[Phone/Muffled Speech/TV]

*****Labels*****

Thoughts

Well isn't this a pleasant day?

I'm hospitalized in one of SoCal (Southern California) finest hospitals, thanks to a combination of cracked ribs , bruising on my chest , and... potential internal bleeding.

You know? The ones where you don't have to wait through fifteen different patients when you're in the emergency rooms.

Oh, how rude of me!

My name is Antonio Mariano Cruz , and-

"Hola Senior Cruz!"

Oh god dammit not again, I'm not hispanic.

….

How did I do this again?

"No hablar espanol, yo hables ingles por pavor, English if you don't mind?"

The young female nurse not minding my broken spanish was doing a routine inspection, during the routine inspection she brought up something of importance.

"Mr. Cruz, You have three guests, a lawyer, an inter-species culture coordinator, and a liminal."

"Do they walk into a bar, while they're at it?"

"..."

"..."

"Okay shit, nevermind." My hands raising up in signs of surrender.

"Do you want them to visit?"

Ignoring my pointless retort, the nurse gave a huff of a harsh tone with that question.

Okay the lawyer I needed, but the other two, I don't want to deal with.

"Just send in my lawyer, I'm sure he'll find his way up here with no problem."

"It's not your lawyer, it's theirs."

Great... I'm getting sued, and probably going to end up on the local news talking whatever the fuck they can charge me with.

Probably sexual harassment somehow

Probably will be.

"No need to worry Mr. Cruz, the lawyer also mentioned that you're just getting reparations"

Wait... What?

Okay... lets recall what the hell happened earlier.


~YESTERDAY~

My House

Orange County , California, United States

It was a O.K. single story modern-home in a low-crime suburban area, with a garage in front, concrete front and back lot, 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms,1 master bedroom, granite counter-top kitchen, and a living room.

Mostly the standard stuff.

For the value of the home, priceless...

Probably because I own the house since both my parents went back to their home country.

My living room TV was running the local news in the background while I had a talk with my mom. She keeps insisting I use phone-cards to make those international calls. It's becoming MORE of a nuisance to find those things nowadays.

[[Today marks another year of the mainly Japan-hosted inter-species exchange program]]

[Yes, I know mom, I swear to go-]

[Okay okay, shit, I won't use that word]

[[In goodwill to the US interest of cultural exchanges, the liminal diplomats have agreed on extending some of their exchange students to US]]

[I'll be sure to take my nephew out for dinner for his birthday]

[HES NOT MY KID, MY SISTER NEEDS TO LEARN! SO DOES MY BROTHER-IN-LAW!]

[[The first wave of liminal exchange students have arrived last night at the LAX-international airport, mixed reactions came across all boards, however with southern-california being a melting pot of many cultures, the mixed reactions slowly become positive as liminals met with their assigned families]]

[No, no girlfriend yet, Why do you keep asking!?]

[Okay... I'll make sure I won't shoot anyone on accident with my relatives. Yes, I'm joking, it's always safety in the field, love you too, bye Mom]

I hung up the phone, and took a moment to stare at the flatscreen TV.

Huh...

Might as well talk to myself while picking up the "main entree" for this semi-partial family gathering.

"Man, I seriously doubt they'll even consider me to be a host."

A neatly stacked pile of black 4 plastic cases, 2 of them rifle/shotgun length (50 inches long) , 2 of them able to handgun sized (24 inches long.) sat in the couch of my living room , each case held considerable weight within them. Those were the delicious entrees for this family gathering.

"Pffftt... I never even signed up , they can't even choose me."

Guess its time to start moving the fun stuff before this ass of a car drive to the desert.

With a rifle case in my left hand, I nonchalantly continued to the main front door connected to the living room, getting myself ready to move the entrees into my car.

Taking a moment to unlock the combination of locks that were pretty standard for most homeowners in the US, I came onto a-

Liminal and a neatly trimmed 5'8" Caucasian special agent, sporting a nice pair of sunglasses, imaculately tailored black suit, and a pair of well shined shoes.

The liminal was hard to explain for a person like me... She was a combination between a bull, a light skinned human, and with the genes for size, 7'5" in height, especially her cup size... is that a G cup?

Her muscles were the best combination of toned and defined, for an amazonian style lady.

The hair was a set in a brunette color and with white highlights with a cow tail looking pony tail, 3" long horns , her clothing was that a pair of jeans, and... is that a biker gang jacket? That really makes the cleavage when the black leather and black blouse contrasts with her light skin.

Her face had that a look of a warrior, yet so pristine and so...

Badass!

Yup an amazonian warrior princess, bull-girl. Shouldn't it be cow, bulls are the males of the bovine species?

The man in black spoke up , breaking the train of my intensive examination, probably for the sake of the liminal herself.

"Gooooooood afternoon! One of your neighbors is going to become a multi-liminal host!"

I did a long eternal groan in my head.

Great... one of those super eccentric folks that give a talkshow host vibe.

"We're just stopping by to see if the neighbors are suitable enough, AND AT THE SAME TIME, let you meet a liminal that's staying near you!"

Please stop yelling, I'm not even at the desert yet, and I'm getting tinnitus.

Somehow, he noticed my wincing from the yelling and toned it down with apology.

"Sorry about that, got a little too excited. This is the first time I'm working in this job, ya'know?"

"I understand brother, so who are you two anyways?" My head nodded to the enormous woman, acknowledging her existence.

"This strapping fine fellow in this suit is no other than Agent Wesson, United States West Coast Inter-species coordinator!" as referred to himself.

Narcissist personality? Is he trying to market liminals to hosts?

"Tone it down again, please?"

"My bad! The silent minotaur here who looks at she could scare succubi into purity is Kyu. Kyu, introduce yourself..."

Shes a minotaur! Wait... I thought minotaurs are generally males, unless I missed something entirely in my mythology lessons back in high school.

"Puny human scum..."

She probably misinterpreted my observation of her as ogling...

Yeah... That's pretty understandable from her point.

Agent Wesson ignoring the minotaur's choice of words, he decided to poke into the content of the case I've been holding onto for the duration of the conversation.

"Sooooo, Sir!, What's in the case?"

"Uh..."

What do I say?

Some can say its an awkward experience talking to a (supposed?) law enforcement officer about guns, or guns in possession, whereas others flaunt it as THE constitutional right.

I'm sure this coordinator is versed in state laws so saying the truth never causes problems

"Just a Pamello state armory AR build ,midlength-gas system with 16" barrel, magpul flip-up backups, and lightweight minimal furniture for speed."

I think I said too much...

"A comp speed build? They're not really 3-gun savvy around here."

Hm, he's definitely lived around SoCal to know that.

I gave off a shrug, and looked back at the imposing liminal, something about her is just ready to crack, maybe time for an icebreaker.

"Well Kyu, Welcome to the OC, I hope we'll get along as-"

As I moved my free arm up to give a handshake, I felt feeling similar to falling off of a bicycle chest-foward, with the loss of breathing...

Now multiply that by enough force to crack ribs.

The girl had her fist cleanly digging into my chest in a blink of a eye.

"neighbors-"

That was a solar plexus hit, or maybe thats just the broken ribs speaking...

I can't tell the difference. Especially if you took the hit yourself.

In the last seconds of that direct punch, the rifle case slipped out of my hand, my body scrumpled down to the floor as I let out one last croak of my vocal cords.

To add insult to injury during my last seconds, her voice booming over my corpse. Her words kind of felt like one those sexy female villans/heroines.

"YOU THINK I WANT TO SHAKE HANDS WITH YOU, YOU FILTHY PERVERT HUMAN SCUM!"

She placed a foot flat on my chest as if she conquered me.

"YOU THINK WITH YOUR OH SO MEAGER GUNS, THAT YOU'll BE ABOVE US?"

Her clenched right fist rose to the air in a victory pose

"I'LL SHOW ALL YOU HUMANS THAT GUNS AND WEAPONS ARE TRUELY FOR COWARD CRIMINALS, AND FISTS ARE THE ONLY WAY TO GO!"

Please... why does my last seconds have to be listening to a misled monologue of justice. I'm a legal gun owner, I've followed every law straight to the word, no shortcuts!

...

What the fuck is Agent Wesson doing?

During Kyu's monologue, I craned my head to Agent Wesson.

He had his hand on a generic android smartphone up to his ears.

"This is Agent Wesson of the M.O.N. , Call in for tier 3 response team, Rogue Liminal: Minotaur ... and an EMT level abulance"

Oh... calling for backup and an ambulance.

What a good guy... I'm sure he can't really take Kyu head-on. I kind of wish he actually did a little more than that.

….

I'm Lo-losing v-vision...

….

Everything turned to black from there...