"Jumba thinks I'm … pretty..." Pleakley smiled to himself, though it could not be seen behind a pillow he now masked over his face. Jumba had always told him he was ugly. Even told Lilo when she was younger that the only real reason someone would be attracted to him would be because one of his experiments was on the loose, like Hunkahunka or Amnesio "…pretty…" Pleakley repeated again playing with the word. He was mesmerized, floating on air, under a spell.
Boy he had a lot to trash now and Jumba's recent wording wasn't helping. It kept ringing in his mind "Pretty… pretty…pretty…." Pleakley repeated aloud. Maybe it was just a new little monster behind it all. One that made someone in contact with the experiment obsess over the words others said about them into the state of mental annoyance and interplanetary chaos. Assuming this was the case or it was just a fluke, Pleakley rubbed the comment off, though it was hard.
Pleakley steadily walked up the stairs deciding to drain some more of his extra special feelings for Jumba into cleaning their room. It had really been a pigs' sty lately. Food wrappers from their stash lined the walls, experiment drawings all over the place, clothes everywhere. You could barely even walk through it. His plan was to start with the trash and then end with the rest. Easier said than done, not much of a plan.
After about a half an hour, Pleakley finished cleaning up all of the trash – two full, black garbage bags. Satisfied, he placed them out in the hallway to be taken out later. Now the more fun part: clothes! As he put away each outfit or dress, he tried it on, even if it was Jumba's, acting as if he was a fashion model. His absolute favorite was a bright blue and pink Hawaiian dress he hardly ever wore, but loved dearly. In fact, it was the first dress he had bought on this planet. He kept it on for his own amusement and waltzed over to the full length mirror cradled next to the door to evaluate his appearance. It was him alright. Dressed in a dress, again. It used to be a disguise and a joke, like everyone still saw it as. But it was him and he liked it.
Eventually, the floor began to get much cleaner. He could finally see the hardwood and even some of his favorite jewelry and makeup he had been trying to find for ages. Next was the papers: the boring papers. Most of them were Jumba's, but some were Pleakley's credit card bills, mostly overdue. "Pleakley, Jumba, Jumba, Pleakley, Jumba…" Pleakley called out as he sorted the papers at the desk Jumba used to work on; a few years ago, Jumba had moved his lab back into their ship for good claiming it would let him take care of guests and feed his ego at the same time. Also, there was no more need to be convenient for Lilo and Stitch to badger him about the experiments they had found on the island.
Next, Pleakley sorted through his own little pile deciphering each. "Overdue, overdue, overdue, overdue, due soon…" Not knowing how to sort Jumba's pile, Pleakley decided to put all of Jumba's papers into the lower drawer he always saw Jumba putting papers into. Seemed logical to him.
As he opened the drawer, Pleakley had a hard time finding an empty space to put all of Jumba's newer papers. Consequently, he decided to nicely stack the existing papers into piles to allow for more room. Maybe he would thank him later? But, there was one problem. Something kept catching his eye on all of the older papers. All were addressed to him or contained his name.
Out of curiosity, Pleakley placed Jumba's newer papers on top of the dresser and took all of the older papers back to his lower bunkbed. Pleakley arranged them according to date, if not already, thinking it would make a difference. The very first one read:
/June 16, 2002
Dear whomever it may concern,
Just got caught a few days ago for one of my evil genius experiments. Never caught me for the other 625. Must have finally located my secret evil genius lab. Anyway, I'm now on this stinky water planet thanks to 626 escaping here. That no good councilwoman sent me with this tiny, wimpy, bossy, one-eyed, three-legged noodle thing I'm supposed to call Pleakley. All he does is get in the way when I'm trying to capture 626 and gain my freedom back. I'll never get out of prison. Probably won't even leave this cruddy planet.
At least I get some entertainment. Last night, Pleakley got his ugly head practically chewed off by 626 at some weird, primitive restaurant. Still has destructive tendencies, which is expected. Getting back to the point, Pleakley, thinking he is pretty earth female, looked ugly before and after. Laugh my head off. Later that night, Pleakley got bitten by millions of mosquitos. He's all for saving them. Doesn't seem like he likes them anymore. Has hilariously lasting bumps all over his body. Can't wait for more entertainment.
Dr. Jumba Jookiba
Looking at the contents of this letter, Pleakley scowled in anger at this mockery and barbarism. How could Jumba say that kind of stuff about him? Even calling his pain and torture entertainment? How dare him! Still, Pleakley was dying with fascination about what the next letters would hold, good or bad. A few ones after were finally specifically addressed to him. Possibly some improvement?
October 31, 2003
Dear Pleakley,
Sometimes you are so crazy I can't control myself. You always try all these fancy Earth customs with fascination – something I could never do, especially not on my own. I guess it takes being an Earth expert. Anyways, today, you kept sewing weird costumes for this Halloween custom thingy. When I didn't like one, no madness, just made some more! Takes patience and creativity to do that. The first one with you in big, shiny pink and white dress was good. Not so comfy for me though…earth female's clothes must be better… sure look fancier. Don't know why my mind forces me to write this stuff down. Sort of embarrassing sometimes.
Anyways, take care and keep being yourself. Your friend,
Jumba
Pleakley couldn't help but smile at this letter. He hugged it as if it was Jumba himself. "Jumba thinks I'm patient, creative, and funny!" Pleakley exclaimed aloud getting up from his bed and jumping about. It was like they had just made a momentous leap in their relationship, like Pleakley wanted deep down. Why didn't Jumba actually give Pleakley these letters? They didn't seem so evil, actually kind of nice. Love letters!
November 7, 2003
Dear Pleakley,
As you know, 501 and 502 were the talk of the ohana today. Competition and bet of catching one first was fun, but after a while, not so fun. Even for evil genius. Weirdly enough, I like working as a team with little girl, Stitch, and especially you. That's when stuff gets done. Like 502 squirting lava for 501 to cool to make land, rather surprisingly. Do opposites do that a lot?
Your friend,
Jumba
P.S. I really enjoyed dancing the Glocknar with you. Fun. Should do some other time? Not so long though.
Pleakley almost broke into a fit of laughter as he remembered that moment he had almost forgot. "Yes, Jumba, should do some other time," Pleakley agreed thinking about what the rest of the letter meant. Did Jumba want to be a team – a couple – with Pleakley?
February 14, 2004
Dear Pleakley,
I'm feeling feelings I've never felt before, about you. But, I want you to hear the truth. I always give you the truth.
When people got pecked by Hunkahunka today and looked at you, they flakily fell in love with you. Deep, deep down, where I've never felt before, I felt this ache, this pain, this jealousy. I'm not sure what this is. Just a sign of indigestion…or is this love? Do I… love you… Pleakley? That's impossible.
Regards,
Jumba
The relationship was crumbled. Crying and shouting, Pleakley thumbed through more recent letters seeing if Jumba would actually realize love could happen between them. Was it all downhill from there? It couldn't be, it couldn't be… Pleakley found the last letter. It was yesterday. When did Jumba write a love letter to me yesterday? Pleakley thought to himself.
August 28, 2012
Dear my little one-eyed friend,
Ohana left, which left you without something. I don't know what it is. You've been so overemotional - crying, screaming, quiet, and the works. Breaks my heart, if I had one. How can I get through to you? I'm worried. I don't know what to do. Even if I did, I probably couldn't do it. Is it just ohana leaving? Or is it something else? More complex? Something about me and how you feel for me? Do you hate me? Want me to go back to Kweltikwan or Turo? Or, you want to leave, go to Plogonar? I want to know. I'm open to anything. Anything to keep this ohana – only one I got. I want to be part of your ohana. I want to be your friend. That's how I want it to stay.
I hope soon I will find my answers.
Jumba
And with that, Pleakley fell to his bed surrounded by Jumba's letters. He clutched the last one to his two hearts, of course found in one of his legs, permanently heartbroken.