This takes place shortly after Megamorphs #1: The Andalite's Gift.
Dedicated to my canine pals—Bender, Cara Mia, and Dingo—and the evil cat, Damien. We have finally won the war! Praise be to Bio Spot!
Disclaimer: Animorphs are owned by the great K.A. Applegate. All I have that contributes to the plot is an empty bottle of dog shampoo.
XxXxX
Itchy
Marco
Spread out on the beach towel over the warm, white sand, soaking up sunrays, I was in paradise. No missions, no alien-related troubles, no peeing-my-boxers-scared as a scythe-wielding blue psycho turned into a demonic beastie straight out of Silent Hill. Just me, the birds, and a certain blonde beauty in a tight, red one-piece running beside the seashore.
"Oh, Marco, you forgot my shoulders again!" she called, holding up a tube of sunscreen.
"No prob!" I said, moving over for her to lie beside me, stomach down. I grabbed the tanning lotion and squeezed a thick dollop on my hand. "Would you like to start off… Hey, Pammy, what's that noise?" I could hear a faint shuffling sound, but it didn't belong to the scenery around us.
Pam cocked her head, listening. "Hmm… Marco, don't worry about it. A great, strong man as yourself would find the powder. Where is it? I can't stand it! Ow! Ow, ow, ow! Stop it!"
"Pammy, are you feeling okay? What powder?" I asked, then gripped fistfuls of crusty sand as the earth started shaking violently. "The catalogue didn't mention anything about a seismic belt! AAAHHH!" The sky darkened to an ominous bruise-colored shade and the ground collapsed into bottomless chasms. "AAAHHH!"
Something furry and tiny slapped over my mouth. My eyes flew open and I glanced up to see Ax, sighing in relief when my shouts stopped. "Ax-mah, geh yuh han offa muh mowth!"
Hesitantly, the Andalite drew his hand away and trotted over to my closet, examining the contents before ducking his upper torso inside and digging through them, tossing shirts, pants, shorts, and other clothing across my floor. (Where is it? Ow… Ow… Has to be here somewhere.) His tail twitched, jerking from left to right irritably.
"What are you doing in my room?" I asked calmly as I could. "It's…holy crap. Three twenty-two in the morning! Dude, did Jake call for a mission or something? We just took out that stupid dust monster Veleek thing."
(Prince Jake didn't tell me to gather anyone,) he muttered, throwing an old X-Men comic at my desk.
"Then give me one good reason not to shove you out my window," I said.
(My body's current bulk would not sufficiently fit through the window,) he answered. (If you tried, I could also render you unconscious with the flat of my blade.)
"Good points," I said. "Well, what are you doing here? Late night house cleaning?"
(No. That medicine you offered me failed to exterminate the pests covering my—) He stopped in mid-sentence, suddenly going into a frenzy of scratching with his hands and one hind leg. One hoof caught in a pile of socks and he stumbled, his tail knocking half the books and pencils and games off my desk onto the floor with a loud crash.
"Ax! If my dad wakes up and comes in here, seeing you, he'll flip," I snarled.
(Why would he perform acrobatics?) he asked. He paused in his scratching, trying to repress the spasms. (I looked on and in your desk, underneath your bed…) That explained the earthquake nightmare. (Where do you keep your medicine?)
"What medicine?" I asked. "Wait, you mean that flea powder I gave you for helping out at Darlene's party?"
(Yes,) he snapped. (It had little to no effect on the… ah!… pesky, disgusting… ouch!… parasites. They're living on my hindquarters, my tail, chest, back, everywhere!)
"Okay, simmer down, dude," I said, before feeling something crawling up my forearm. Even with only the pale rays of moonlight and street lamps from outside to see, I could make out the flea's unmistakable shape leaping towards my elbow. I flicked it away and noticed that little, black dots covered my bedspread. "Ew. Nice, Ax. Just lovely. Just fricking wonderful. How the heck did you get flea eggs all over my blanket?"
(Marco, could you please tell me where you keep your remedial supplies?) Ax whined, green eyes narrowed as he ground his knuckles against his ears. (I'm sure even with human daily hygienic needs, you occasionally suffer from these horrid little creatures.)
"Well, dogs and cats do," I said. "People have to worry about lice. They're like fleas, but they only live in people's hair."
(There're two types of these abominations?) Ax said.
"There's also ticks, which give you Lyme disease. Then there's leeches, but you'll probably only see 'em in a swamp or something. There's crabs, which crawl around in your… I think that's another thing I'll explain when you're older," I said, sheepishly.
(This planet is insane,) Ax groaned. (So many parasites! No wonder the Yeerks like it here.) He kicked a couple pants out of his way. (Do you have anything I can use?)
"Well, couldn't you try morphing something mostly hairless and scrubbing them off then?" I asked. "You know, morph human, pop into the shower, and wash them off?"
(I've tried that,) Ax growled, getting a slightly insane gleam in his eyes. (However, these… ah!… creatures are small enough that some are absorbed into my flesh and disappear into Z-space with the rest of my extra mass until I demorph.)
"What?"
Ax rolled his eyestalks. (These fleas are slightly smaller than ireechi, a type of worm that some Andalite warriors have implanted into their oorari glands to aid their immune systems when venturing onto other planets. Humans and Andalites also have microorganisms that help with digestion and other things. The morphing technology enables these creatures to survive by placing them in a state of suspended animation when they're transported to Z-space. You already know this, though, I'm sure.)
"Yeah, um, of course I do," I said.
(Apparently fleas and their eggs are small enough that I can't simply use your idea,) Ax said.
"How about you shave or something? Your fur's probably too thick for flea powder to do anything," I said.
(You want me to give myself an unschweet?) Ax fumed. (That's one of the greatest disgraces to an Andalite warrior!) (A/N: 1)
"Sorry," I muttered. "The military buzz cuts their guys all the time."
Ax shook his head. (Humans really are backwards.)
I groaned. He looked close to breakdown mode and I doubted if I could explain to my dad tomorrow morning how most of my stuff looked like it had been attacked by a machete-wielding nut job due to sleepwalking. Well, without him calling the school counselor at least. "Okay, here's what we'll do: after school, we'll go down to that new Petsmart downtown. All right?"
Ax sighed, but nodded. (At fourteen-and-three-quarters of your hours, correct?)
"Yeah, that's when school gets out. And Ax, they're your hours, too," I muttered.
The Andalite didn't reply as he slowly shrunk and his fur twisted and reshaped into feathers. In minutes he was a northern harrier and fluttered up onto my bedspread, which I knew would need fumigated before my entire room was infested.
(Thank you, Marco,) Ax said, before gliding out into the night and disappearing into the dark.
"Sure, whatever," I grumbled, slamming the windowpane shut. I'd have to remember to lock it next time…
XxXxX
So, shall I continue?
A/N: 1—I didn't make this term up! Anyway, an unschweet is a mark given to Andalites who've been disgraced. Their officers chop a patch of fur off and until the fur grows back, the offending Andalites must bear their bare patch of shame.