Chapter 7: "An Uneasy Truce"
"It's amazing how much time has been wasted tiptoeing around the sensitivities of others. Imagine how productive it would have been to simply commit genocide more often and stay ahead of schedule…I indeed was a very mean baby, why do you ask?"
-Attributed to Jafar, the Head of the Prince's Court
Jafar's odd sense of humor aside, Prince Aziz found nothing funny about the incident and fumed as soon as Rose broke the news. His energy soared and his eyes flared with madness. He paced around the room gripping his sword tightly, ready to take someone's head off.
"I'm sorry. It was all my fault," Rose said in apology.
"No, darling, it wasn't," her mother wheezed, rolling her eyes. "It's just who you are. You know that."
"The insolence. The gall! The nerve of that sick…demented…freak of nature."
Aziz raged to the point that he turned red with anger, a fitting tribute to his violent soon-to-be in-laws.
"She was only trying to help, Aziz," Rose assured him, finally feeling some pity for the witch. A heroic witch, yes, if still creepy and weird.
Aziz stared at her for a long, tense moment.
"I mean…Your Grace."
Aziz's eyes shot to the side and he crowed in embarrassment. "Rose, My Lady. You don't have to call me Your Grace. Besides, I am not talking about the witch. I mean this rebel army who threatened your life."
"Oh."
"His name is Lord Gothel IV," Aziz fumed in anger. "He has been sending me letters threatening my family for months. I never thought he would dare to start a war. But if he wants a war, so help me, I will give him a war. I will wipe his people out from this world."
"Now, now," Belle said calmly. "Let's not jump ahead of ourselves. What matters is that she is alive. Disaster was averted."
"Disaster?" Aziz clarified, clenching his fists. "Gothel and his men haven't begun to understand the meaning of disaster. I will destroy every single one of them in that tribe of savages."
"Calm down, my prince. It's all my fault. I sent the guard away. I know, I shouldn't have," Rose said softly, trying to keep the peace.
"It doesn't matter. Jafar is my First Guard and Knight. He knows better than to ever leave you alone—ever. He will answer to me for this."
"That is true," Belle said, not too subtly joining in the criticism of that strange looking, pencil-necked fellow. "No one should ever leave a member of a House unattended by that great of a distance. Lord forbid what my husband would have done had a tragedy happened. I am tired of war. I know you are too, Your Grace."
"I am just…so grateful that you're alive. To think I could have lost you." Aziz's eyes met Rose and they shared a thankful smile. "I owe that witch a debt of gratitude," he concluded with humble eyes.
"Oh. Yeah. Great." Rose seemed irked at the idea of praising her nemesis. Again. For embarrassing her, again.
"He does," Belle agreed. "She saved your life. And didn't ask for anything in return."
"We would certainly not have done the same for her," the prince admitted. "I don't know what she was trying to prove."
"Me either. Seemed very weird," Rose said, remembering the whole stalker-hero complex thing.
"Yes. But a good deed never goes unrewarded. That is my decree."
"What are you going to do?"
"I will pay her a visit."
"Why?" Rose inquired, a bit unwary of the idea.
"It is a matter of honor."
"Please don't kill her," Rose said, surprised as everyone else at her sudden compassion for this snarky stranger. "As weird as the whole thing was, she did save my life. I guess this proves not all witches are terrible people…or whatever."
"I'm not going to hurt her," Aziz assured his future queen. "Maybe we can talk this problem out and we can all get what we want."
"I doubt it," Rose whispered faintly, hoping not to be heard.
"Just be careful," Belle demanded. "I have heard of good witches. But then again, I've also heard of evil witches pretending to be good."
The idea of Aziz fearing anything seemed to make the strong young prince chuckle. "Worry not about me, Queen Belle."
Prince Aziz excused himself from the ladies as he left to speak with his guard and probably spend the rest of the day drawing up plans to attack The Revolution province.
"Just like your father," Belle said with a droll smile. "A very military mind, wouldn't you say?"
"Yes. He cares for me a lot."
"Give him time, child. I think you will come to think very highly of Prince Aziz."
"I already do."
Indeed, what soul in Auradon hadn't heard of the legend of the "Kind Prince" Aziz of Agrabah? Who didn't love him, who didn't yearn to be his princess, who among men didn't wish to fight by his side and brush elbows with greatness?
Well, at least a few were not impressed. Speaking of the animals in the Isle of the Lost who glared at the invading Prince Aziz in contempt. Aziz took note of their grim and judgmental snouts, harsh beaks and condemning scales, as he walked carefully onward, marching through the forest eager to meet the noble-hearted witch. Possibly the only noble-hearted witch he had ever heard of throughout the land. He had stationed his horse a few steps back, closer to the forest, as he ventured out to enter the cave that Rose assured him contained certain magic.
Noises abounded as Aziz made his way closer and every time he looked out, little bodies would scamper away and hide. The raven, rat and snake kept a good eye on him though, as no one trusted a non-witch human around these parts.
"Listen. My name is Prince Aziz. I come in peace."
He spoke strongly as he approached the cave and peered his head into the blackness inside.
He put his sword back in his back shoulder sheath to show a demonstration of peace. "This isn't a trap. I am aware that you are trespassing on this land. But I am also aware that you…you did a good deed for me last night. I just want to talk."
"FAMOUS LAST WORDS," the demonic voice mocked.
Aziz sensed a presence behind him and slowly turned around. As he did he sprung back a step in surprise, seeing an upside down witch floating in mid air and sizing him up in unfriendly suspicion.
Her long purple hair seemed perfectly controlled and furled downward, even while she hanged bat-like and yet was suspended by nothing. She didn't care to give him a smile, as if to emphasize his kind was not welcomed here. He wondered if Rose's reception was as cool as his.
"Hello. I am Prince-"
"I know who you are," she said, speaking in her natural voice, though not any less cloyed at the prince's appearance. "I know why you've sent your princess to me. You're trying to make me leave a land you do not own and for no particular reason except to enforce the law."
Aziz sighed. "Look, I don't know why that law was written. Apparently, King Beast's father had a problem with witches. You've proven to me that your kind isn't all that bad. I am here to make amends."
"Then are you going to let me stay?"
Aziz smiled in frustration. "I can't change the law."
The witch twirled her finger and rotated to a proper floating position, meeting him face to face—though she chose to remain sitting on nothing.
"Then why are you here?"
Just as Aziz tried to answer politely, the witch's eyes went red. Aziz balked but finished his sentence. "Because. I believe no good deed should ever go unrewarded. I brought you a gift. I hope that you will take it and start a good life for yourself, living where you belong."
Aziz dropped a bag of gold.
"I don't want your money."
The thought confused his majesty who had to ask the obvious. "Why? So you can stay here in a cave? Is that your pride talking?"
"Because I have no use for your things."
"And things, I have a plenty. My parents are the richest people in four kingdoms. Probably the world over. You would be a fool not to have me on your side."
"And what does it all mean, huh? To be a rich man. A rich prince. Is that what makes you, YOU, Aziz? Your parent's wealth?"
While Aziz and the witch were trading soulful stares, the cat found something far more interesting than human drama. He clawed open the bag of gold and dug through the spoils, taking out large, shiny gold pieces which sent his furry face into a gaze. He meowed in celebration, somehow proving Aziz's point, much to the disfavor of the witch.
"Well, he certainly likes it!"
"I don't," the witch answered. "I can tell just from meeting you this once, you don't care about money either. Why are you marrying Princess Beast, anyway? Are her bland blue dresses just driving you crazy with passion? Is her brilliant conversation of 'Umm' and 'Ooh' really the intellectual fulfillment you need?"
Aziz laughed merrily but the witch only stared back coldly.
"I might ask you the same question, Witch."
"What?"
"What interest is my marriage to the likes of you?"
"None," she said with a frothy glance. "I was just making creepy conversation. Because you know, witches are supposed to be creepy. That's all we really do, you know. Is cook children, cast spells and say creepy things."
"What is your name?" he asked boldly. Her icy face caused him pause. "I mean…may I ask your name? My Lady?"
"My Lady?" the witch cackled as hard as her stereotype. "Boy, aren't you a charming lad. Haven't been called 'My Lady' in a long time."
"Forgive my future wife for neglecting to ever ask your name. The name of a good woman who did a good deed. And to whom I am in debt." The prince beamed, trying to avoid the "smug" face, since that's the last thing a bitter hag—although not a half bad looking one—needed for more ammunition.
The prince was charmed by this witch, this woman capable of overpowering a small army and a woman capable of standing her ground to a king and queen-in-training.
"Oh," said the witch with a proud but quieted shrug. "With only a touch, I have the power. Zell zaba fell well. To wither a flower, I find delight in the gruesomes of Hell. 'Cause I'm the magnificent, marvelous, mad Madam Mel. Perhaps you heard of the legend that was my Mother. Mad Madam Mim?"
"Nope," he said with a smile. "But I like your name." Indeed, a name that seemed both strong and tragic. A bit of a lonely name, just as "Mel the Witch" in person seemed to project persecution and vengeance and heartbreak. Behind her cocky voice and caustic smile hid a very lonely girl, with nary a friend in the world. Almost immediately, the air seemed thicker and the tension lifted. It was so uncommon that any decent person call a witch by her real name. It almost seemed quaint to him that he had been calling Mad Madam Mel "witch" for so long.
"Thank you, Mad Madam Mel," Aziz replied peacefully.
The prince grabbed his gold and readied to leave, though the regretful cat meowed in protest, quickly looking back up at Mel and back at the prince. He sure wanted that gold.
"I won't force you to leave," Aziz continued. "I will advise you to leave, because I cannot call off my soldiers from doing their jobs. Or from other vagrants and barbarians who hate witches. Am I supposed to bribe them with more money than what the state is paying for your head?"
"I think we understand each other perfectly," Mel the Witch suspired, stroking her hair, giving an impression of flirty surrender to the strong but gentle man.
"Good."
"I understand you're a coward," she reiterated, protruding her face and straightening her shoulders, losing all friendly expression. She stared fiercely as if she were holding a sword. "And you understand too. You understand that I could beat the living tar out of you if we ever fought one on one. Make you beg for mercy. Make you squeal like a pig. Tear you a new hole and put some nice girly jewelry inside of it. Understand the lingo?"
The thought should have insulted a king-to-be. Instead, Aziz laughed and laughed gasping for air at the very thought. He felt downright flattered and swooned a bit that a woman might challenge him to a fight.
"Or wait, lemme put it in Agrabah Talk. I fear I am going to have to attempt in this very moment to, as one might say, put the lower extremity of my leg into that orifice otherwise known as your arse. So yeah, we'll call it a draw," she said raising her fingers in mock quotes.
"You?" he laughed again. "Beat me? You have a bizarre sense of humor, I must say."
Mel, that purple-haired cutie, raised her brow. This could go on for a while. But she had no interest in flirting. On the other hand, she was always ready for a fight.
Maybe that's why Aziz gradually lost his smile, shook his head and made his peace. He bowed graciously and walked away from trouble, assuring her of his thanks. He left her with another thought, a kind one and yet one that seemed loaded with understanding. "I promise you, you will never hear from either of us again."
"Good," she said blankly, letting the chivalrous fellow see himself out.
As soon as Aziz left, she relaxed her countenance and lay down on three perfectly situated floating stones, the pieces serving well as a mobile bench. So mobile in fact that the bench didn't need legs or a back or any of those other normal features.
Despite a rather interesting encounter with the Prince of Agrabah, she seemed disheartened. The cat instantly sensed her mood and purred softly, putting his paw on her leg gently, without a scratch, as if to say I'm here for you.
All of the animals did—the bat swooped over and landed on her right shoulder, looking down at her with the same determination as that of an avenging angel of night. The raven landed on her left shoulder and hacked, as those disgusting birds do, which wasn't quite as poignant as a meow. The rat squeaked his concerns, snuggling by her feet, while the snake hissed in sorrow, slithering up her leg and then her arm.
"What's the matter guys? Huh?" she asked, quickly realizing the communication gap held back a soulful talk.
The animals only made noise but Mel knew they had plenty to say if only she spoke the language. So she grabbed a handful of green stardust and sprinkled it all over them.
"Oh my, two doses in one week," the cat said excitedly. "My, my, we are sure partying hard!"
"Yeah, well, maybe I just don't want to be alone right now."
"Ahh," the raven demurred. "This princess friend really has your hat in a twist, doesn't she?"
"It's not just her," she answered wistfully. "It's just…you know, my lack of human friends. Mom and dad always warned me about making more people friends."
Mel put her hands behind her head and leaned back and took a big inhale of her imaginary cigar. When she exhaled a huge mist of green shot out in loops. Whatever the magical woman did at any moment was interesting, this the animals knew.
"They said a life lived all alone can be frustrating. Depressing. Long and boring."
She pointed at a pillow situated in the other room and dragged via telekinesis to comfort her weary head. The animals had seen her powers before, but whenever she showed off, it always symbolized a night of brooding. And no one particularly liked Mel when she brooded, least of all the rat, who had been kicked a few times for squeaking too loud at an angsty woman.
"It is what we are. We're not like the Beast people, or the Agrabah people, are we?" the snake asked honestly. "We're from two different worlds or kingdoms, you might say."
"I guess not," She said stroking the snake's head and then gently choking his neck, which was a kind gesture in snake chat.
"I know what will cheer you up. You should pursue a serious relationship with a snake, Mel."
"Oh?" she asked with a simper.
"Yes, definitely. You know what they say: once you go Snake you never recoil." The snake laughed, sort of, but when snakes laughed it sounded awful—like girgling snot.
"Oh get out of here, you humanizer, you. I know better than to ever trust a snake. All you can think about is seducing humans!" Mel snapped with a mischievous point of her finger.
"Who told you that? That's serpent profiling!"
"Sorry, I just don't feel that way about you. You're stuck in the snake-zone!" she warned him, never naïve enough to fall for such a play. "Besides I've heard about your problems with, ahhhurrhhm, reptile dysfunction."
"Whaaaat? That's a lie!"
"How do you like them apples, talking serpent?"
The animals teased her and she teased back—just like any old wistful night. They always ended this way, in calm nostalgia. It sure beat angst, depression and scream-laughing into the night, as all witches tried at least once. The animals would comfort her and she would snap out of the funk, for their sake, or for no other reason than to escape the silence of an empty cave devoid of humanity, full of magic, but missing anything close to love.
"How would you all like me to fix you my very special, world famous legume burgers?" she asked.
"Oh, I'd like that very much! And perhaps a side of catnip, just a little dab, just a trifle?" the cat asked excitedly.
"Oh, you'd like that wouldn't you?"
"Oh yes, I would enjoy that profusely," he said with a lick of his lips. Dinner was always amazing. Every night seemed better and more well-cooked than the night before. "I feel I have been quite temperamental and moody without dinner," the cat pleaded.
"All righty. You know the first rule. Out of the cave when momma cooks."
The animals scattered out of the cave, giving the chef some space. Oftentimes, Mel talked, mused, or heaven forbid, even sang when cooking. This disturbed the animals, because why talk to nothing when they were so willing to converse? They never really understood what Mel meant when she lamented about having no human friends. All the humans they met seemed rude and pretentious. Mel never felt like a "human" to the gang. She was one of them, an animal with slightly more abilities and charm.
The reason she demanded silence during cooking time was because she enjoyed chatting to nobody in particular. She would oftentimes soliloquize about life, her day and her unfulfilled dreams in between sprinkles, stirs, mashes and mixes.
First, she meditated quietly. As the moments went on and life seemed progressively desolate, the volume raised. She was there, alone again, in the kitchen with no one but seven critters to keep her company. She felt something missing, something else besides the whole, "being an evil witch living alone in madness" sort of thing. Whatever hatred she reserved for Agrabah or Auradon people seemed hypocritical, since she did enjoy herself immensely whenever company would drop by.
The sobering thought that all of this unhappiness was her own fault seemed especially stringent. Did she indeed drive everyone out of her life? Was she the clichéd black heart who chased away her own kind and repulsed all the bourgeois of moral society?
"That's just the Magnificent Mad Madam Mel," she finally said aloud, beating her internal thoughts to it—might as well say what everyone knows. "Black heart, purple hair and a hundred different spells to kill the pain."
She tossed her hat down to the ground and talked to her invisible confidant.
"And every year, our big evil family gets a little smaller and smaller, doesn't it?"
She floated over to the study area of the cave, made only of one of old rusty wooden shelf with a handful of books scattered about it, each one looked more tattered and haunted than the last. The top book interested her the most and as she pulled it out a book of scrolls fell out. These were not magical incantations but the magic of a faraway world that never stopped existing thanks to some finely detailed portrait drawings.
Even the two eastern and western kingdoms hadn't mastered the technology of the southern Diamond Empire and least of all the outer boundaries. These portraits of Mel's family were all she had, her only link to memories of yesterday, that world she would never see again.
The gypsy artist drew her Warlock father in charcoal, the heavy black lines well representing his austere spirituality and hypnotic eyes. She drew her mother Mim in watercolor, the smoothness and melting colors being a perfect reflection of gentle acceptance. Then she drew her sister, opting for ink red, an appropriate choice for the soulless ginger of the family. Then she drew her brother with pastels, the combination of deep colors and detailed angles capturing the essence of his gregarious and often misunderstood personality. Mel herself was drawn in graphite lead, the dark shades and weak gray colors interpreting her inner pain, the inevitability of a magical world slowly ending.
The first page featured the whole family on one long scroll. The second page jettisoned the father, leaving only a bittersweet Madam Mim and her emotionally vacant children. The third page only featured the siblings, the younger sister and older brother hugging in desperation, as Mel isolated herself farther to the left, her graphite pencil shading increasing in dismal pressure. The next page saw a scandalized pair of sisters, now missing a brother and holding each other close.
The last page only highlighted Mel, a lugubrious looking witch holding her cat and staring ahead and the artist, nothing left to lose, nothing but a handful of fur to hold onto. The world had ended. Whatever once was, existed in this scroll, this frozen moment in time.
"I wish we never lost touch, Ma," Mel spoke aloud, supplicating her spirit—or indeed, any spirit that lingered behind. "I wish you would send me a psychic vision sometime, Dad."
Mel put the book back on the shelf and dragged herself over to the kitchen. At least she didn't have to dirty her hands like most cooks. Telekinetic dishwashing, stirring and chopping was a great convenience. As she directed an orchestra of a self-cooking meal and spoons and pans hovered in the air, she thought of a cool idea.
"I guess that's why they call it the 'Other Side.' There is no coming back to this side of the wall. All I have left is what you told me all those years ago."
Suddenly, the spoons and forks began to come together arranging patterns and creating shades of gray, drawing the faces of her lost family members.
SONG 2
"WHEN YOU SPEAK I LISTEN"
It's been so long since I heard your voice
But I remember you
(Words of you)
And with yet another passing year
The melody escapes
(And your face)
How much longer until I forget
And you become a thought
(Passing thought)
If you're alive tell me where you are
Why can't you hear my name
(Waiting game)
When you speak I listen
When you're silent I wait
But how can I wait forever
For a sign
A little star
Before it's much too late?
Maybe you're a million miles from here
You're traveling at the speed of light
You told me not to give up my hope
You promised it would all turn out right
When you speak I listen
When you're silent I wait
But how can I wait forever
For a sign
A little star
Before it's much too late?
Maybe someday you'll send a message
That gets here in a million years
A pity that I'll be dead by then
A wandering spirit with lucid tears
The implication of their faces didn't seem to appease her. She wanted to see them in vivid color, she longed to see them in person, if not flesh and blood. So she began chanting and twirling her hands and fingers like she were kneading the underworld's dough. The pans and spoons were placed on the fire. This freed the open kitchen space for a new show, this one a firework display, made possible by stardust and black mist that she summoned.
A lightshow appeared and abstract shapes that resembled faces splashed around the cave. While at first abstracts, Mel's deep concentration allowed the little sparks and flares to work as ink. In a few moments, she was able to draw translucent images of her mother's face, then her father's. It looked like a ghostly family reunion, with the phantoms dancing, singing and making the same ecstatic faces that they always made around suppertime.
The contagious hullabaloo even got Mel dancing and spinning with the nearest broomstick. At first she danced while holding the broomstick, treating it as a following partner. But it wasn't long before the broomstick stood up and started dancing itself, bouncing its wooden shaft back and forth and moshing its head full of bristles.
However, Mel's happy dance eased her into closing eyes and therefore missing the most interesting revelation. The broom began to change form and morph its parts into something far more elaborate than an abstract.
The broom spread its parts and light emanated forth, until a simulated Princess Rose stood before her, dancing and smiling, with a dreamy-eyed expression.
When Mel opened her eyes she almost yelped. The ghostly image of Rose, looking more colorful and concrete with each awkward moment passing, stayed behind even when Mel turned off the magic show with a snap of her finger. The lights dissipated and all the dancing objects fell to the ground. But Rose stayed behind, still in vivid detail and sent Mel some coquettish blinks and funny faces.
"Whoah," Mel remarked, grabbing her forehead in worry. "Uh…" She laughed nervously.
The Simulated Rose was all smiles, all long, dreamy gazes into Mel's eyes. The dark-haired stalker, with a heart it seemed, suddenly lost her confidence and turned red with embarrassment. Particularly so when Simulated Rose, wearing that drool-inducing sheath-mermaid combo dress with that teasing yarn top, began blowing kisses at her. Not very subtle at all. One could only wonder what the animals would think if they stumbled upon this very revealing magic spell.
"I uh…forgot how to turn this thing off. Abra Cadabra, huckus tuckus, hocus pocus diddily docus…" she waved her hand but in vain. "Ah geez, was it over and diagonally or one wave down and another wave up?"
She frantically waved her hands again but Rose kept smiling and blinking her eyes in that kittenish way a certain someone found irresistible.
Just then, at the worst possible time, the animals came back inside, their tummies growling. And not so coincidentally, Mel's tummy was all flutters too.
"My stomach says let's get ready to ruuuumble!" the fat cat sang as he entered the cave.
But the sight of a Simulated Rose, raising both arms and rolling her hands through her golden locks in a very feminine way caught everyone by surprise.
The animals gasped, Mel had been caught magic-handed, like the curious witch who had been caught stealing cookies. Stealing double chocolate cookies, the worst kind one could steal!
"Diddily iddly, crammo bammo, olly olly oxen free, shazaam boop boob bee boo doo!" she spoke desperately, hoping to stuff her skeletons back into the magic closet before the animals realized what they were seeing.
Alas, too late, as a silly-looking Rose faded away only after the group asked a collective, "What are you doing?"
"Shall we talk about the elephant in the room or deny what we saw?" the snake surmised.
"Elephant?" the rat cheered proudly. "Where? Let me at 'em! I ain't afraid of no elephant."
The bat wasn't one to cower from the truth. "We all saw it, Mel. You're conspiring with the enemy."
The fat cat, however, construed the odd event as something else entirely. "No, no I don't think conspiring is the word, Batsy."
"Ah, geez, now I'm blushing," Mel said, her pasty face turning a strange shade of pink. "I swear guys, I was just channel flipping through psychic visions, that's all."
"Whoah whoah whoah! We must discuss this," the raven assured her. "Why are you obsessing over this Princess?"
"Uhhh…can we please talk about something else? How about I give you double the helping of dinner and catnip today as a compromise?"
The fat cat's eyes lit up and suddenly the gossip seemed trivial. "All right, I say we talk about something else!" he suggested to his friends.
"No, no," the raven replied firmly. "I have to hear this."
"Yes, spill. We want all the gory details," the snake declared, always interested in gory details and just like a snake to say that.
"Tell us, Mel," the rat wondered. "Did something happen with the princess?"
The cat seemed bothered by all the attention. After all, Mel offered a meal in compromise and they hadn't discussed or negotiated as a consensus. "Er…can we discuss this after our meal? Perhaps?"
Mel knew the cat had been outvoted and sighed, ready to spill. "Well guys…it goes like this."
The fat cat pouted, quite annoyed and starving. "Oh very well. Make this quick though. I fear…I am malnourished."
"I can't stop thinking about her," she confessed, hiding her eyes in judgment. "Every time she goes away, I feel sad in my heart. Maybe I can't explain it to you. But…I want to see more of her. I want her to be my friend. No, not just a friend. I want to…you know…"
The animals stared back wide-eyed and totally clueless. They looked at each other to see if anyone got that reference.
"I want to…uh…you know. Kiss her?"
It seemed anti-climactic. The animals looked at each other in mild surprise. They understood the attraction, but not quite Mel's stubbornly human view of love.
The fat cat smiled and raised his eyes, thinking back to the distant past. "You mean the very special way of kissing. Why it reminds me of the way I once romanced many young felines back in my day." He laugh-purred loudly and turned his paw in kitty pride. "Oh, how extravagant were those nightly prowls. Our erotic adventures in the alley were untamed, so brazen with lust…"
The rat nodded and looked back to Mel. "Ohhh you mean like that. Yeah I've had that one special girlfriend…and another girlfriend and another girlfriend and another girlfriend…"
"Wait a minute, Mel. You mean that thing called love?" the raven asked.
"How could it be that thing called love? It's not love when the other person doesn't feel the same way." Mel sat down, dejected and pushing her slouching back against the cave wall.
"Oh."
"No, no. I dig it. I understand what you're saying," the snake said with an evil little venom-flashing smile. "It's like in hibernation season, when we male snakes emit female pheromones so we can lure away the other males away from the female we want to make it with. And then we trick them into following us into forming this mass mating BALL of snake on snake free love, baby."
Mel irked her head back. "No. No Snakey, that is not at all what I'm talking about. And you snakes are disgusting perverts, you know that?"
She ignored the laughter and snake bashing. "But the truth is we're too different to be together."
"Why?"
"Because, silly. You know."
The animals gave her another foggy look.
"Because," Mel said, bobbing her head and then tilting it to the side. "You know…" But nothing. "She's a princess!" she clarified. "And I'm a witch? Hello?"
Mel sat back up and paced around, enjoying the idea, even while feeling the inevitable defeat. "Good and evil don't go together. The very idea of me, in that way, you know, like with a prince. A dashing heroic prince who she actually wants to kiss and marry. And then me. Naah, she'll probably laugh her little head off at the thought."
"Oh," was all that one animal of the group said. They stared back in silence, certainly not as smart as their human friend and unable to argue her with any intelligent thought.
The cat shrugged and spoke carefully. "So…about this meal we've been discussing. I wonder…"
"Catty!" the raven reproved. "Can't you see she's suffering in silence? Unrequited love is tragic. It's harsh!"
"Love isn't real if it's unrequited, Diablo. It's just a thought. A dream. A stupid little fantasy that'll never come true."
Why bother shedding a tear, the pretty witch thought. No use crying over spilt love. No use chasing after love-bows. "Hey you know what? I agree with Fat Cat, let's just eat already."
The cat smiled so merrily, his faith in life rewarded.
The bat however, was unsatisfied and downright angry about it. "NO."
The cat frowned, sensing another long monologue to come.
"You're wrong, Mel," the bat yelled, building to a fiery point. "Love is real. I know. I too have once loved and lost."
The rat raised his brow in jest. Of all people, the angry creepy bat was a lover?
"Are you for real?" he squeaked. "Or are you just batshit crazy?"
"It's true," corrected the stoic flying mouse. "I lost my first love in a fire. But I never once doubted our love was real. Her death haunts me to this very day. And every night I see her, still smiling at me, still hollering my name in her last dying breath."
The bat's grimness caught the other animals off guard.
"…Damn," the rat said, now quite possibly traumatized by Batsy's story.
"Mel…Love is still real, even if it's one-sided. What you feel is real. There is only one way to turn your stupid little fantasy into real love. And that's to swallow your pride and talk to her," the Bat concluded, holding his wings together and cloaking himself in the cold, harsh night.
"Whaaat?" Mel screeched back.
"She's not married yet, is she?"
"Well, no…"
"So you still have a chance to tell her what you feel."
"What? What? Are you crazy?"
"NO. I'm not crazy. And I have all the documented records to prove I'm not crazy."
Mel squinted in confusion. "Since when do bats keep records? I mean how do you even do that?"
"You probably don't want to know."
"Eew! You mean all those mountains of bat poop?"
"Those are libraries, dammit!" the bat argued in defense.
"Now I'm depressed, confused and thoroughly disgusted at your lifestyle, Batsy."
"No wait, I get what Bat is saying," the raven said with a nod. "He's saying that if you don't take a chance and talk to the girl, that your love will never be real. Things will stay the same forever. But if you do go and talk to her, then there's a chance that maybe she feels the same way about you?"
"Feelings schmeelings! Maybe she just wants to get it on with a witch," the snake mocked.
"Naah, you're just goofing on me. All of you."
Only the rat seemed to be less optimistic than the others. "Excuse me? Love? Is that what we're talking about? Am I the only mammal here that sees something terribly wrong with this scenario?"
"Stop using the M-word," snake hissed.
"Isn't there something here we're all missing?" the rat said, pointing to Mel who looked hurt and particularly lovesick in the gorgeous moonlight peering in from outside the cave. "Something that's ridiculously obvious? And something I shouldn't have to even say?"
"No, what?"
"Like you don't know! Don't play coy with me! You know what I'm talking about," the rat said, folding his little paws, at least as far as they could reach.
"Yeah, what are you talking about, Remy?"
The cat made a bold suggestion. "I have an idea…let's continue this over dinner!"
The rat finally exploded into obviousness. "Because! She is evil! Eeevil! Evil witches don't get together with princesses!"
"Ah, good point," the raven agreed.
"It's a simple matter of good vs. evil. Love is supposed to be for good people and good people. And then evil people and evil people. But never shall the two mix together."
"Well, that's true," the snake conceded. "We are all sort of evil."
"I know I am," the raven declared.
"And me," the rat agreed. "How about you Fat Cat?"
The cat stared defiantly. "What am I? I'm Hungry."
"And between the lot of you, I am the Most Evil of them all," the bat said, gloating a bit with his evil looking dots-for-eyes and tall shadow. "But what I do know…"
"Hey," the feisty rat interrupted. "How come you are the most evil? You're not more evil than I am."
"Yes, yes, I am."
"No, you're not."
"Yes, I am. But there's one thing I do know. Mel…"
"Huh?" a baffled Mel answered.
"We all have a choice. To be good or be evil. To try or to fail. To win or lose. There is only fire and ice, Mel. There is no in between. Nobody likes lukewarm milk. We either want cold chocolate milk or hot chocolate. Nobody likes lukewarm milk. If there's one thing I can't freakin' stand it's warm milk!" the bat raged.
"Here, here. And on that note, let's eat!" Fat Cat begged.
"Mel, don't be warm milk. Or so help me, I will puke you out of my mouth!"
Mel broke her thoughtful glance and laughed but Bat was preaching to his flock, so why cut him off.
"You humans are stronger and smarter than any of us. And yet you're afraid of the dumbest things. The Mel I know, the Mel we grew up with, was never afraid of anything," the bat concluded.
"That's sweet, Batsy," she said with a loving smile.
"It's true, luv," the cat added, he being the only one old enough to remember Baby Mel before she became a Madam. "When you were a little girl, you never showed the slightest bit of fear, no matter how much danger you were in. Mim called you The Little Firecracker. A young girl who wasn't afraid of kings or princes. OR princesses."
"Yeah, I know. How silly of me."
"Maybe it's time to prove yourself again. Another challenge to overcome," the bat said.
"I dunno…what would I even say if I got the chance?"
"It doesn't matter!" the bat cried, getting into Mel's face and spitting. "You are going to talk to her. You are going to tell her you like her. Do you understand? You owe me that!"
"Okay, fine, geez! No need to spray me with your gross bat saliva."
"Good. Now fix my dinner, human."
"Yes, sir!" Mel whimpered playfully. "Goodness gracious, don't yell at me anymore."
"Oh joy!" a certain feline cried in victory.
"Aren't you cranky, Batsy," the raven said, keeping a safe distance.
But within seconds, the bat turned around and screamed holy terror. "I haven't eaten all day! That's why I'm cranky!"
Mel giggle-snorted at her animals' camaraderie, as charming and grating as her late parents quarreling, she thought.
Only the rat stayed behind the rest of the pack. He seemed as perturbed as his human friend.
"Awww, Remy. What do you think of all that? Is the idea of me crushing on a princess just as disturbing for you as it is for me?"
The rat frowned, looking away and then back to her with heavy eyes. "But…you're evil. And she's good."
"I know."
"You're too evil for her," the rat pouted. "You deserve someone better."
"Awww. Like who?"
"Like a warlock or a demon. Someone hideously evil and just inconceivably cruel."
"You're right, Remy. I should have much lower standards and zero self-esteem, shouldn't I?"
"Much, much lower. Like in the sewer."
