Page 3, Day 5: Ecology
Yesterday I tried to press Nurse Joy on that whole 'childhood trauma' issue. She said it was in the notes. Upon asking her to explain how the Fennekin family's ability to 'contribute greatly to the forests of the Midwest', was relevant at all, Nurse Joy's rambling became so technical that the river of questions I asked lead into dozens of tributaries. She tried to clear herself up by reciting the story of a Fennekin who escaped its home a long time back. One of its embers caught on a tree, the spark grew, and even the fire-type couldn't handle the resulting forest fire. The land was only ash until new pokemon settled to feed on buried seeds. Then the predators came back, and five years later the forest was 'a classic case of secondary succession.' Basically, a long-winded way of saying: 'I don't know.'
My morning started at 8:33, with me in the kitchen, fuming at the double-birds she gave me. I didn't get it. She glowed like a ball of flame in the sun! If I could put some conditioner on her, then she would glow all the time! She was but a Ninetales bobble-head though, nodding her head with jaunty laughter on the windowsill.
``AND NOW, FER THE NEXT ACT! OL' BACKSTAGE SPECIAL!``
Trashy's bony fingers plucked out a ruler from her ear. She gnawed it into a haphazard key. It slid perfectly into the lock binding my fridge handles together and with a harsh 'thunk' the lock collided with my kitchen tile! Her greedy paws terrorized the top shelf, damning anything that wasn't in a cardboard container to be punted off like golf balls. She twisted and gnarled the remaining packages in her mouth of knives, flicking saliva atop the corpse of my fallen groceries!
"You'd better clean that up!"
``Kiss my ass!``
Now I had to replace the lock, I had to pick up 'MA FOOD', I had to, I had to, I had to! For the umpteenth time, I had to do something she could easily do but wouldn't. I felt that witch huffing hot air down my neck! Two months and I am out!
"Trashy, where is my bobblehead?!"
``Missin.``
I screamed, "How long are you going to be like this?!" And she teleported into the oven. Her snout thumped on the inside of its door; whiskers splayed out in directions as wild as the ball she curled herself in.
``Like what?``
"Unfriendly!"
That word put Trashy into another ritual. Her jaws flapped like she was speaking to her little witch pals. Then a flash, and she appeared in front of my face. She stuffed the mangled corpse of my best friend up her ear. My Ninetales was all wet and chewed up like she'd been owned by an anxious elementary school kid. RIP Vulpy, a promotional bobblehead I got for selling 100 bags of spicy kibble. She did like siestas…
The skin between Trashy's eyes wrinkled. ``Looky here. I prepared this last night.`` And now she held a plate of old celery from the back of the fridge. Looked like she dumped a whole tub of peanut butter on the greens and remembered to add raisins after.
``Here is breakfast served with a side a friendliness! I ditched your pecha-jam in the trash that stuff is too sticky. Eat up!``
"And why do you think I'm eating expired food?"
``Just a day.``
"That date said the fourth for a reason."
She dropped that smile quicker than a bag of bricks. ``I was hoping you'd keep yer mouth shut after eating it. Just a dream I guess,`` with the last part mocking me. Then she teleported away, leaving me to clean her mess.
…
Later on, my shoulder ached because it spent so long against the wood on the bedroom doorway. Trashy sat like a cat on the comforter, peering into my soul. Should've run when I could. Now I was stuck. If I moved, she'd move. Last I checked, the phone read five in the afternoon.
Finally. She telepathically clicked the lamp on. The room's got a dandelion yellow light now. It got me thinking. Trashy rarely animates herself. Her face, her tone, she just keeps still. Super, super still.
"Let's get your nails cut, ok?!"
She fell over! Get that? She complied! I sunk onto the edge of my bed for the first time this month. Trashy laid out like she was making a snow angel face down. I sat by her right, sweeping my hand across the nightstand to get some nail clippers. Patches of red and yellow fur sprouted like fresh grass over her body. Those hairs will soon flutter around the home.
``Can I talk about something?``
"Go ahead." I lifted her right hand into mine. It smelled weird, like an ashtray made from old rice.
``I think I need some money.``
"Don't we all."
``Those girl scouts, the shoe shiners, all the resta' them flannel-mouths who comes to your residence unannounced and demand monies…They spill about needin' ta put the pasta on the table...``
"Someone has to do it." Be it insurance or pokefood. I went ahead and pinched her fingers between my index finger and thumb.
Snip!
``Of course! We're in the home of the free and the land of the brave. Where'd we be without the blue-collars propping up our nation? But ya gotta admit Dante, some people are just petty. Ever witnessed man who takes his 'no thank you's' and 'have a good days' with rapture? I thought not...Some peeps don't even get that much, ol' boy.``
"Well Trashy, that's how it is. I didn't get paid for every customer who complained when the trim on their 'fur-baby' didn't last a battle."
``Why do you types battle right after anything of note?``
"It's mainly contest newbs looking for that initial edge with the judges. Good ones will know something and patch up the trim in between rounds. The bad ones never leave a tip."
Snip!
``Well, tell ya what. Tomorrow they're gonna wake up as a middle-aged failure with no prospects, and unlike ol' stage boy here, they won't ever break out.``
Snip!
``At the end of the day, someone's gotta realize that there are millions of folks living in mediocrity. They need someone to live up life for them. That's what celebrities are for, right Dante?``
"You talk about that dream a lot." Right now, her body was still as a statue, head glued to the TV. I had a model pokemon right now. Maybe if every moment were like this one, I'd consider taking her in.
Snip!
While I clipped the second nail off her right foot, a black hair plopped into an orange vat of hair-care oil on the TV. The fire-type's ears were almost as big as the screen, so every promise the narrator made about 'silken, beautiful results' was cupped up and carried into her crazy soul.
``Every time the cycle starts up again I used ta take me a nice little oil bath and relax for a while. After the oils kicked in, my fur's real shiny, real smooth, real slick, real easy ta slide everywhere an slip in and an out a calm nerves makes menace metal.``
What?
Snip!
She flicked her head to the side. ``Oh yeah real nice things. Ya see over at the auto places, they love ta leaves lots a lube out by the back door and what's by the back door? Back door dumpsta—Love me a nice oil bath every heat cycle. You can drop me off I don't mind.``
Snip!
She knew I needed to get her left side, so Trashy happily flipped over. Her left hand was kind of sticky for some reason.
Snip!
``This year the bath can be a real special potion cooked up straight from the reptrozette. This year I can let all the stresses of my past melt away. Want to find out how?``
Snip!
"Keep me out of your girl time."
``Don't get smart with me boy! It's a little some to commemorate the new year alone! Everyone has a new year resolution. What was yours?``
Snip!
When I tried to nab it, she tugged her left foot back and scrambled upward. Now Trashy sat cross-legged towards me with her ears as straight as her body, staring into me.
``What's your resolution?``
"Give paw."
``No.``
And at the end of our great session, she was being a pest! I grabbed Trashy's right ankle, skimming my fingers across a band of vague scars on the way.
"Trashy! Wake up! Damn, I'm sorry!"
…
Her pokeball basked in a small ray of sunlight on the nightstand. Two hours later, it hadn't rocked around any. Trashy still wasn't up. I checked around the living room again. I needed to ask the nurse what caused these attacks, but Trashy kept putting my laptop in the most random places.
Glancing at the study area again, I noticed that one of the books was looking a bit big today. Turns out Trashy took that whole 'notebook' thing literally. I was about to open my email when I noticed the tabs.
'MIRROR'
'CONTEST RINGS'
'HOW TO GET HER TO STOP SPEAKING TO ME.'