Her son and granddaughter weren't the only ones in the house to see the program last night; she, along with her husband, and six of their eight children, had seen it too. Like with her granddaughter, she, and her two program-present daughters, had also broke down at the segment's conclusion. The reporters, and the organizers of the program, had done their job; they had done the interviews, but they hadn't taken any footage, or even concerned themselves with the emotional aspects of most the ones that they had interviewed—her son had been the only one that they had really concerned themselves with on the emotional aspects of what they had been doing the program on.
She had seen her son's brother and grandfather conducting themselves in a near-perfect professional way; no emotion had been expressed by them, they had just answered the questions presented to them in a sort of stone-like way. No act on the reporters' parts had been done to get the two men to show any form of emotion. Her son had also shown professionalism, but he had added emotion into his interviews; his expression of his emotions had made his interviews look more real... not like he was reading cards or being an actor.
Like the rest of them, it looked like her son had also been affected by the program; she couldn't be sure but, after leaving the room that she and most of her family were in when the program was aired, she could swear that she had seen her son propped over the vanity in one of the upstairs bathrooms—his back was hunched; his hands were gripping the edge of the sink; his goggled glasses were half-neatly nestled in their dark green leather case, which had been placed askew to the sink's dials... Before the door to the room, that she had found him in, was shut, she had seen that he was looking down and that his shoulders were moving back and forth; a sob had just been heard from within the room when the door was shut on her.
With her son being a man, one of good breeding, and of good physical, mental, and emotional control, she had left him be; sometimes, the act of being a mother was hard. Sometimes, a mother had to leave their children alone, so they could deal with and come to terms with their emotional scars. Instead of rushing to the bathroom, then ripping the door open, then going in to comfort him, she had turned to go back to the room that her family was in. She had understood what he was going through; watching that program, seeing the interviews, and, lastly, seeing the photographs, with the last one having Presumed Deceased underneath it, had hit him hard. Sixteen hundred years. One thousand, six hundred years of searching planet after planet; of handing out and putting up fliers; of conducting speeches and interviews; of doing bulletin after bulletin through radio and television... they hadn't found or heard a thing. It was like Angel Irene, and her sons, had fallen off the face of the Universe.
He had checked Earth; his Goblin army had been sent into the shields. Orders to drag each and every female human who had red hair out from the shields had been given; he had looked through hundreds of red-haired woman—tall and short; petite; pear-shaped, apple-shaped, thin as a rail; redhead's with brown eyes, green eyes, blue eyes, gray eyes; and redhead's with all sorts of skin complexions, from deathly pale to darkly tanned... he had looked through all of them before shaking his head then giving the order for them to be released.
After a hundred years, he left Earth to search other planets. Other galaxies. He had missed so much; he didn't have to conquer to bring in any cash, the Andromeda, Vaisha, and Bula Galaxies were bringing him in so much that he was guaranteed rich for life. He had missed two siblings being born, two cousins being born, a great-nephew being born... birthdays, holidays, special events. Everyone else in the Surfeit clan had gone back to their lives. Had given up. Had risen the white flag. It was just him and his sister, her oldest daughter, remaining of the Surfeit's... it was just them Surfeit's who were still looking for Angel and her sons. She couldn't be happier or prouder of her two older children, or of her four younger children, who had pitched in as well in trying to find Angel and her sons. She was sure that Angel, Bile, Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer were all just dusted memories to a majority of the Surfeit clan now; just bad memories. which had been swept to the back of their minds... piled up and nearly forgotten. Only brought up when someone asked about them then forgotten soon after they and their stories were told.
"Morning Efagti," she said when her oldest son from her second marriage walked into the kitchen.
"Morning ma," Efagti replied. When she turned to look at him, she noted that he was still a bit groggy; with her knowing her children, and their habits, as well as she did, she knew that it might take him ten or fifteen minutes more before being fully awake.
"Sleep well?" she asked.
"Not really," her son replied.
"Breakfast in twenty, are your brothers and sisters up yet?" she asked. His voice, she noted, had a heavy hint of depression in it; she hoped that some griddled pancakes, chicken, and a good-sized helping of eggs would cheer him up.
"Think so. I know Amadh is." Efagti replied.
The child that she had just spoken to had been given the name of Efagti Izorot Ubalki immediately after birth; he was the oldest of her and her husband's children—he looked very much like his father. The tight skin that was worn over the muscle, tendon, and bone of his body was a dark blue color; the large, oval-shaped eyes, that looked out from his face, were a silverish bronze color—the likes, of which, he had gotten from his father. The design of his body was really the only thing that set him apart from his father; he didn't only have muscle on his chest, back, and arms but also on his lower body too. Her son had gotten all of this from working the farm—from working the animals; holding the mini horses so his father could give them their shots, or trim their hooves; from leading the bigger horses to their sheds; from heaving and then tossing heavy bales of hay from one place to another; from toting pails of oats, or other animal feed; from helping when shearing time came around for the sheep and Almas; from milking the cows and goats; and from helping with the fields when harvesting time came around.
Her sons and daughters from her second marriage had been raised differently than her two older children from her first marriage; while her oldest son and daughter had been raised to conquer planets and galaxies—to be evil, and to spread terror—, Efagti and his siblings had been raised to be respectful, hardworking, and gentle. Curiously, even though her oldest son and daughter had been raised to be hard conquering, evil, and terrorsome, they had also gotten a good dollop of the respectful, hardworking, and gentle genes.
She went back to making breakfast after saying hello to her son; the act of pouring enough pancake mix into the pan, then flipping it a few times after it cooked a bit before taking it out, then sprinkling brown sugar on top before adding a swirl of strawberry jelly on top of that, was a perfectly natural one for her. The first pancake that was put on the plate was joined by three more; she added some griddled chicken, then a better than decent helping of country fried eggs, to the plate's side after placing the pancakes on it. She was giving the plate to Efagti when two more of her children entered the kitchen.
"Smells good, mama." her second son from her second marriage said. "Your cooking alone wakes me up in the morning."
"Thank you Amadh." she said. She placed a plate, that was a near perfect duplicate of the one that Efagti had, down, in front of Amadh; after doing that, she returned to the stove.
"Blaiga and Qeeta will be down soon." Phaggo said. "Fussing over the bathroom, last I saw."
"Bathroom fussing should be made into a tv show," Amadh said. "It's comical how girls will fight over the mirror, and the hair brush."
"We will all be alive tomorrow as long as they don't show what you do in the bathroom." Efagti said as his mother placed a plate in front of Phaggo.
Amadh Azuknor Ubalki was the comical one in the family; he typically turned on the jokes when someone was down, but he also had a tendency to open his mouth at any odd time. Like Efagti, he looked most like his father; his skin, which, like his brother's, was pulled tight over his body, was also a dark blue color. The almond-like structure of his eyes had, without a doubt, come from his father, but their color hadn't come from him—the pure silver color of his eyes had come from her. Along with being tall, he had a well-muscled top half—his chest and arms were well-muscled while his lower half was slender and graceful in appearance.
Her ex-husband, DuruVile Surfeit, had come very close to roughing this child of hers up two thousand years ago; the man, who had a too-serious approach to life, had seen wrong in her son's comical nature... he had come close to beating him up because of his tendency to joke and make the people around him laugh. Although she and her husband nurtured the comical nature of their son they did tend to get somewhat annoyed by it—instead of being loud in insulting him, and instead of hurting him physically, they got control of him by using a normal tone of voice during the expressing of their minds on what he was either saying or doing.
As was natural, her two sons were dressed differently. Efagti was wearing a pair of blue pants, the likes of which had a black belt around their waist; the shirt that he was wearing, which had a black and green checker design to it, was tucked into his pants; the brown boots, that were on his feet, were a little scuffed up, but they weren't dirty or dusty. Amadh was wearing a pair of jean overalls, brown boots, and a brown and green checkered shirt; he was to tend the animals that morning while his father and brother took his half-brother out for a little fresh air.
Phaggo Kokub Ubalki, her thirdborn son from her second marriage, had also inherited his father's dark blue skin; it was stretched over his body gracefully—thanks to his skin having a feminine appearance to it, Amadh sometimes joked about him actually being a girl in disguise. His large, oval-shaped, silver-colored eyes had come from her; the gentle look that was in his eyes said that he was calm, cool, and collected—which was very true; he did have a calm, cool, and collected demeanor. He'd not hurt a flea, much less start a fight. This son of hers was two thousand, seven hundred, and thirty-four years old—very young; he still had while to go before becoming a full grown adult. He was wearing a white t-shirt and green pants, the latter of which had a brown belt around its waist, and brown shoes.
She was just placing two more plates down on the table when two of her three daughters walked into the kitchen; her youngest son, who seemed a bit cranky that morning, followed behind them a few seconds later.
"My bill's the same, right?" QeetaVile asked after her mother placed a plate in front of her.
"Yes dear, no bill at all." she replied with a warm smile.
"Just keep your buns in order," Amadh said. His arm was raised; his index finger was pointed at the hamburger buns that were hanging from the hook that was next to the bread rack. "Get it? Buns in order?"
"Even at eight in the morning you still find the jokes to make us smile." QeetaVile punched her brother in the shoulder.
"Ow! Ma, call the law enforcement! I'm filing for domestic!" Amadh faked crying.
"You're a comic act and a half." Blaiga said. With the exception of the toddler, everyone at the table laughed.
Blaiga Sarewelba Ubalki, her first daughter from her second marriage, could well of been Phaggo's twin—she and he looked very alike! Her daughter was two thousand, six hundred, and fifty-seven years old; very young still, about seventy-seven years younger than her older brother. Like her brothers, she mostly resembled her father; she had dark blue skin, that was very feminine in design, and large, oval-shaped eyes—like Amadh, the silver color of her eyes had come from her. She was wearing a dark green dress that had no designs on it—her dress covered her fully; no hint of leg, or crease of breast, could be seen on her. The slip-on shoes, that were on her feet, matched her dress perfectly. Up to five hundred and ten years ago, she had been her only daughter by Cheshire; Blaiga now had a younger sister to give her "grief". Despite having a younger sister to be driven crazy by, she still hung out a lot with her and her older half-sister.
QeetaVile Tintissi Surfeit, her only daughter from her first marriage, who was sitting beside her younger half-sister, was much older than Blaiga. Even though she was older than Blaiga, she didn't go around, wearing clothing that showed her parts. QeetaVile, or Qeeta, as she and the rest of her children, and her daughter's friends, called her, was shorter than most everyone that was at the table—she stood just five foot, eight inches; with the exception of Qhuakiz, the others at the table were well over that by several inches. She had long, jet black hair that was braided on the side; like everyone else at the table, she had suction cups on the tips of each of her fingers. Qeeta had small breasts and a petite, pencil-thin like body; she was wearing a purple dress, there were purple slippers on her feet. Her oldest daughter had teal-colored skin and circular-shaped, silver eyes.
Qhuakiz Sluuvo Ubalki, who was just now being "helped" to his chair, was her youngest son at three hundred and ninety-three years of age; he was a typical toddler—cranky when he didn't get his way; emotional at the oddest of times; loud at times when it was both appropriate and in-appropriate to be loud; and, of course, he had a good tendency of leaving his toys and clothes spread all around in the darnedest of places. With his being the youngest, he was one who tended to get both babied around and disciplined the most. He had medium-blue skin and large, oval-shaped, bronze-colored eyes; he was currently four feet tall. He was wearing his favorite pajama outfit, which was a light blue color; there were little sheep and cows all over his outfit. After breakfast, she was expecting for either her or her husband to gather him up; this son of hers would be taken upstairs for a quick bath and then clothing.
Like with Efagti, Amadh, Phaggo, and Blaiga, she and her husband had been thrilled after learning that she had caught pregnant with her two younger children; they loved children and, with her having a husband who was so well-behaved and trouble-free, she enjoyed mothering the offspring that were born to them. She had just finished making two more plates when her husband walked in with their youngest daughter; her only granddaughter walked into the kitchen behind them.
"Getting heavy, Defe." her husband, Cheshire Keueitt Ubalki, said as he placed their youngest daughter in her chair. "Of course," he looked at his wife. "I have you to thank for that. You and your fine country cooking."
"Get it while it's hot." she said as she plopped three plates on the table.
Before looking at her husband, and giving him his first, wife-based, sultry smile, she looked at her youngest daughter. She had been given the name of Defe Tooke Ubalki a few minutes after being born; unlike the rest of her children, she had been a surprise to them—and a very much welcomed one too. Her youngest daughter hadn't had a good night after being put to bed; she had spent a few hours just lying on her back before deciding to get up then go to their bedroom. The question of whether she could sleep with them had been asked, and then answered with a yes; Defe had slept on the side of the bed that she would normally frequent.
Defe had the darkest of blue skin and large, oval-shaped eyes that were a light bronze color; she was the only one of her children with Cheshire to have hair—her daughter's hair was long, blonde in color, and braided on the ends. She stood five foot, two inches—which was tall for her age of five hundred and ten years. Her husband had dressed her that morning before coming down for breakfast; their daughter was wearing a pretty yellow sun dress, which had a white ribbon around the waist that had a white daisy on it. There were yellow penny loafers on her feet. Defe, like Qhuakiz, was groggy. Before grabbing the fork, then getting started on her breakfast, she wiped the sleep from her eyes.
"Daddy will be down soon," her granddaughter, EshalVile Eskara Surfeit, said as she took her place at the table.
"How'd you two sleep last night?" she asked her.
"Decent, for me." her granddaughter replied. "Not so sure about daddy."
Her granddaughter had done a lot of growing up in the last sixteen hundred years; she was mature beyond her years and she looked to have a very strong, interior and exterior shell. Her granddaughter had light blue skin, which had come from her father; the eyes, that looked out from her face, had come from her mother, Bespe—they were green and cat-like; the pupils, that were in their centers, were black. Not only did her granddaughter's eyes look very feminine, they also made her face look very pretty. Like everyone at the table, she had suction cups on the ends of each of her fingers. Her cheek bones were set high on her face; the pretty, light blue hair, that her granddaughter had, ran all the way down her back—her bangs, which were currently braided, were a different color than the rest of her hair; they were a right pretty, medium-purple color, which contrasted quite well with the color of the rest of her hair.
EshalVile, or Eshal, as everyone called her, was wearing a red dress—the likes, of which, fit her very loosely. Her perky breasts were just barely able to be seen. There were red, slip-on shoes on her feet; the ruby strand necklace, that was hanging from around her neck, really brought out her looks. Eshal was her father's only daughter and child through his first marriage; like the program had said, she was the adopted daughter of Angel Irene, the woman who had gone missing one thousand, six hundred years ago.
"You look beautiful this morning, Ashaklar." Cheshire said as he went to give his wife a hug.
"Thank you, you don't look so bad yourself." Ashaklar said to her husband.
Ashaklar took her seat at the table; there was a plate in the microwave for her oldest son—thanks to the microwave having a built-in system in it that kept anything that was put in it warm, the contents, that were on that plate, would be kept warm until it was retrieved. After hugging her, then telling her good morning, her husband of sixty-one thousand, six hundred years took his seat at the other end of the table; he sat at the head of the table because that was what he was, the head of their family.
Cheshire Keueitt Ubalki was her second husband—and would remain the only husband that she would ever have, she hoped. He was a tall man, standing at six foot, three inches; his skin was both leather tough and a dark blue color. The eyes, that looked out from his face, were almond-shaped and bronze in color; he had inherited one of the ailments that most in their species had—thanks to the photo sensitivity of his left, he wore a goggled monocle, which she personally thought made him look even more handsome.
He had a lot of muscle on his arms, back, and chest; the rest of him was slender. Before heading down to work on breakfast, she had watched him dress in a pair of dark brown formal pants and a light brown, long sleeve, button down shirt; the black vest, the likes of which had black ties on it, and the brown boots that he was also wearing had been put on after she left the room. There was a gold chain running from the left breast pocket of his vest; it ran to the pocket that was on the left side of her husband's pants—she didn't need to know what was held on the end of that chain; her husband was an avid snuff chewer. Even though he chewed snuff, he did, on occasion, smoke—usually whenever he was in a stressed out state or when a special occasion was going on.
Her husband was a good man. A patient and understanding man. A good man to his children, and a good man to both his stepchildren and to his step-granddaughter. He had never hit, insulted, abused, or spoken badly of anyone; he was respectful and caring and she loved him so much for that. Her first husband had been the exact opposite of her current one. After taking her husband's physical appearance, and outfit, in, she took her fork up then started eating. She had just put a helping of eggs in her mouth when her oldest child walked into the kitchen.
"In the microwave, Tazzy." she said when her oldest son stopped after entering the kitchen.
It was the off-balance walk, and his mumbling under his breath, that told her that her oldest, and only, son from her first marriage hadn't slept much last night. She watched as her son took his plate from the microwave; after taking the plate from the appliance that it had been in, her son walked it over to the table, which became full-up of her family after he took his place at it. An eerie silence fell over the table after he sat down; even though the need to open her mouth, to speak to her family, and, possibly, voice her opinion on the program that had been shown last night, was grand, she said nothing after the whole of her family was at the table.
The one who had just joined them for breakfast had light blue skin; like everyone else at the table, he had an upside down, teardrop-shaped head that had two holes where a nose would normally be and an O-shaped mouth in it. The eyes that looked out from her son's face were large, oval-shaped, and silvery in color; again, like everyone else at the table, he had suction cups on the ends of each of his fingers. He was the only one at the table to be wearing a pair of goggled glasses—unlike everyone else, he had inherited the severe form of photo sensitivity from her; he was forced to wear his glasses whenever he went outside. This son of hers, who had been given the name of TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, but who went by plain Tazir by his family and friends, was wearing a burgundy tuxedo—the jacket, of which, sported a long tail on the back, which trailed the floor whenever he was up and about—and matching shoes. He had a burgundy tie around his neck; the white shirt that he was wearing had gold buttons going down its front. Her son, after taking his seat at the table, pushed the belled cuffs of his shirt up into his jacket before eating—she was glad that he had done this; the ends of his shirt were long... they could well of gotten dirty, greasy, and sticky if left out while he was eating. Her son had a burgundy vest over his shirt that had matching ties on it.
Her son was one who liked to dress on the elegant side; he liked showing his status in the Universe—it wasn't his attire that attracted the attention of reporters, documentors, and authors though; it was his looks and the fact that he was a son of DuruVile Surfeit... and, of course, the fact that he was the conqueror of the Vaisha Galaxy, the Andromeda Galaxy, and the Bula Galaxy. His title of Conquering Comet, which he had acquired after conquering the rest of the Andromeda Galaxy, and the record that he had gained after conquering the Bula Galaxy, were two other things that grabbed the attention of others.
"Poor thing." she thought after he started eating his breakfast.
Ashaklar, who's maiden name was Zoopray, knew that it wasn't just his lack of sleep that was making him so quiet and depressed that morning—it was a combination of things. The program, that was tops on the list of things that were getting him down; the treatment that he had gotten from his father the day before, then having his older half-brother sweep in with his say on things on how he should "give it up", was the rest of what had him down.
Her oldest son hadn't had as good of a raising as her and Cheshire's children had; along with being beaten with sticks, whips, and his father's hands, he had also had to endure plenty of verbal abuse. Although the abuse had made for one fine man, who had learned the tricks on how not to use that sort of treatment on ones who were far younger than he, it had left him somewhat vulnerable.
Unlike his older, half-brother, he didn't possess the physique that a body builder had; instead, he had inherited a slimmer body build—which, she fully thought and believed, had more than enough muscle on it. There was quite a lot of muscle on his chest, arms, and legs; his backside was also teeming with muscle. Unlike his brother, who was scar-less from receiving great treatment and raising from their father, he had a body full of scars, which were more focused on his back, arms, and legs; he had slight scarring on his front as well—most of the scarring that he had on him had been given to him by his father... her horrid ex-husband.
Her son had gotten stronger after his wife disappeared; he had gotten stronger physically, but, mentally and emotionally, he was half there. He was like half a person without his wife and their sons. She felt such sorrow for him; she and her family had helped all they could... they were still helping him in trying to find his wife and sons. Their helping wasn't because they wanted him to be back to his old self—while they wanted him to be happy, and back to his old self again, they also wanted Angel and her sons back as well. They, as was natural, had grown attached to them; even though they had barely been able to get to know the two's two younger children, they had also grown attached to them.
"The threat of being taken from her young was what caused this. His threat of taking her from her children had caused her to run again..." she thought before forcing herself to go on with the chore of eating her breakfast.
Within ten minutes, everyone was done with eating; the dishes were piled up in the sink then they went off to do as they either wanted to do or were suppose to do that morning. Three of the men in the house did nothing of what was usually done after breakfast was consumed; as her husband left the kitchen with their oldest son and with her oldest son from her first marriage, she was suddenly thrust into feeling the waves of her anger, which was directed towards KurukVile Surfeit and the rest of the Surfeit clan.
Her son's older half-brother had pushed her son to do the interviews, and he had also pushed to have the program aired on the eve before the day that Family Week—a holiday in the Universe that everyone celebrated—started on. Now, because of that damn program being aired on the night of the eve of Family Week, she was afraid that her son would be a mess throughout the holiday. KurukVile Surfeit, along with his and her son's father, and their grandfather, ShaamVile Surfeit, had made a point in having the program aired on that specific night to try to punch some sense into Tazir.
"It did something alright—it's caused him to be even more depressed." she thought. From the feeling that was coming from Eshal, who was standing beside her, helping her wash the dishes, she knew that it had also caused her to be depressed too.
Ashaklar Ubalki, formerly Ashaklar Surfeit and, before that, Ashaklar Zoopray, growled inside; her hatred over what the Surfeit clan had intended to do to her son, in trying to break his spirit and drive, was great. After two minutes of inner growling happened, she stopped doing the dishes; she told herself to get a grip on herself, and on her emotions, before returning to doing what she had previously been doing. Her granddaughter said nothing over the break that she took to get control of herself.
