Page 7, Day 41: Reproduction
Trashy's idea of heat, besides being a walking oven, was to lay there! All she did these days was park herself under the couch and lay! That poor, poor part of the carpet was in ragged, wet cords. I'd call Nurse Joy again if she wasn't so sadistic. She wrote all this shit so poorly just so she'd hear me beg for help over the phone!
'Hey nurse, Trashy is producing so much 'sauce' that she could be mined like oil! Oh, sorry Dante, did you try that diet? Oh, you spend three grand feeding her already!? What about the 'cork'? Oh right, you could cook an egg on her! Can you move to another, more suitable home? How is that ludicrous? Well, is she stable enough to stay at a day care while you, alone, cleanse her pheromones from every square centimeter of your wooden home? No? Did you get the rashes off your skin yet? No? I'm sorry to hear that!'
The fluid, the lying, the sweating, I can't take it anymore! I blocked her number! I had my own nature proven solution to this whole heat issue. Marten lived with a male Sneasel. She said it herself, Trashy couldn't make any eggs. As for Romeo, I just hope the guy has a burn heal nearby.
Before I could enact my plan, I needed to get the place cleaned, make myself look somewhat clean. I spun around and faced the bulk of my living room. Darkness engulfed every single nook and cranny except for the triad of glowing devil eyes under the couch. Guiding myself with the moonlight, I made my way to the stale cupcake crumbs on my study area. Then my foot slipped on a thick pile of fur! How'd she get there?!
Back in the ball! No-one cares about crumbs. Everyone cares about her well-being, then me, including me. She'll thank me. I'd thank me. I put on some fresh clothes on and went to the front door. Here goes!
Ring, Ring, Ring, Phonecall, Phonecall!
"Marten, hello!"
"It's ten fifteen! Is this about that blizzard?"
A damn blizzard!? Where's the remote? "What else could it be! I need to make some repairs to my space heater," fanning my head for full effect. "Please, please take Trashy in for just a moment. I know Romeo'll hate your guts but she NEEDS a warm place right now!"
A little papery noise from the receiver reminded me. He had a greying beard like Saint Nick, flipping his newspaper as we talked. Romeo was nearby, I heard him meowing. He's probably curled up on a cat tree, waiting for Marten to tell him a bedtime story.
"And how long is this moment?"
"Quit stalling! Come knock on the garage door when you finally get here!"
I hung up the phone with my ear by accident. That's a lie. I couldn't take a no right now, not after that nurse! I NEEDED some alone time, maybe to clean up those crumbs, I don't know!
Each minute crawled by on my phone screen, the only light I had for now. My back slid down the door, and I came to an abrupt stop on the floor. I tapped nervously on the lock screen. Peering into my banking account, I triple checked my purchase history. Lots of food, bills, a stick—my card wasn't racing off the rails, but to be sure, I tried to place a freeze on my credit line.
"Damn two-step," I mumbled. I stuffed the phone in my pocket, ditching that confirmation email! Screw their legalese, even the blind can see that his home is worthless!
I had EVERY atom of that cunt burnt to ash! I licked her flesh to the BONE!
Get out of my head!
...
I heard his car pull up, the long sleek police vehicle, with his tan shirt and five-point star. All my lights were off. Curtains shut. I didn't make a single sound. The sheriff started by knocking on my garage. My heart kicked up with each crunch of his footsteps on the snow around my home. His flashlight's beam crept through my kitchen window and cascaded on my furniture. The white mist moved from across the crumbs, to the piles of clothes, and inched towards me! Then the angle of another wall blocked his flashlight.
"Dante," his voice booming outside. "Did you need a trip the to the ward?" The sight he must have imagined. Some man with his clothes barely clinging to him, hair overgrown, thin lipped, cowering with his head in his arms. Scared of the sheriff's uncover cover boys. Well, that door's a bomb. I step over there and I blow my life away!
Dante, you are being evicted! You have 2 hours to collect your belongings!
"Come out, I know you're in. The driveway's snowed up!"
"Hey," I called. "Shake around!"
"What for?!"
"I'll open the door if you shake around!" I heard the man do a shimmy outside my window. I didn't hear any equipment, so I willed myself to stand. About opening the door, that damn thing had the weight of the world behind it. No way I could push that open!
"Well mate, I shook!"
"Thank you!"
"So, are you going to open up or not?"
"I am at the door! What do you want?"
"If anything, I should be asking you that! You've holed up like a Cloyster."
"I want some ID."
"When you open up, I'll be more than happy to present it."
"Slide your driver's license through the mail slot."
"Now I could pass it to you through the letter box, but with how you're acting, I'm not sure if I would see it again."
"Give me your SSN then!"
"You can't take blood from a stone. Either you open this door, or I'll call up social services." I let him in. He said nothing, just standing half in the doorway. The director looked all over my place like I housed a morgue.
"Christ, there's damp in the corner over there!"
My hairs stood. He was in my space, judging me for the consequences of his great idea. "Are you going to help me or not?"
"How so? You're already blowing your checks on cupcakes."
I drew the pokeball from my pocket. "Take this!" He stumbled as I shoved it in his chest, forcing him right out my home that I paid for on the agreement that I'd get AWAY from people! "Leave, leave, LEAVE! You're one of her lackeys! Get out! And mail me the ball when the blizzard is over, I don't care if I have to wait a week and pay the postage! GET OUT!" Slammed the door in his face. Heard that car drive right on out!
Finally! Some peace in here!
I didn't get a dream last night. I hadn't slept in 70 hours. There's no environment. Well, there is, but it's the inside of my eyes. When my little world 'woke' up, it looked off, like some prankster strapped a stereoscope to my face. Tour the seven wonders of the world for just five cents! Enjoy-Eh! I was stuck in an ant's perspective too! Looking straight down, I saw that I was precariously perched on a golden glass of champagne. Suddenly a gleam shined on my world. My snow globe sat nestled in the cup holder of a centre console of some rear seats in a car crafted by a premium coach maker! I couldn't look out the window because curtains covered it. And red leather padded everything.
To my right, there was a Sneasel in his renaissance hat. He sat plopped atop a red cushion with a wide grin of teeth bearing over my predicament. His cold shadow encased me.
"How do you do, fox?" He must've seen my lips shift. He replied in his animal tongue. "As you see, my pokeball rests on a glass in the cupholder! It took me quite a while," tapping his pairs of sickle fingers, "but I took the chip out your ball, hooked it into one of the pokeport slots, and shoved the pokeport into the chip slot of my ball. It is a tight fit for two, so I join you in the real world."
I turned around. That black block blocked black by bew. The pokeport obstructed my view-
The pokeport: surge protector of the pokeball. I first heard about them as a lullaby pulling us in from a storefront. Behind a window, they had an automatic record changer set to advertise a few different things. While it advertised, it also showcased the new Change o' Matic Model 1843! I can sing for you, educate you, and entertain you for hours! Made of red wood. They kicked us out before we could taste it. Damn junk is useless anyway. Poppy made a great point. Good luck calling a pokemon when we're all hooked to the same ball!
Where was I? I tried to move in the ball to find out, but handcuffs locked me in place. I still saw him in the corner of my eye. I coined Romeo a 'know-a-guy' the day I met him in that theater. Did that because I see people as opportunities, and since he used to be an assassin, if I needed that done, I'd 'know-a-guy'. I don't think I'd ever ask him, though. Those irises hid lifetime's worth of memories. Felt my ears slide down my head, in the ball, with a sea of champagne sloshing beneath my toes. Champagne which Romeo probably poured from a magic spout hidden in the roof. Then the giant's sickles approached me like a pair of rushing locomotives. The Sneasel lifted me up, and my intestines swung about. The surface of the ball clattered on a window. My ears deafened again.
We were on gravel, rolling up a driveway. Never would have guessed. "Amazing," he said. Face so close I could see the skin between his hairs. So close I heard every gust from his breath. "This car is so quiet, the fallen pen may drop and no-one will hear its cry." I shut my eyes. His breath became more intimate with my ears.
"Dante's frantic calls suggest that you move like a brick and then follow the lead of the cylinders. They herd fuel and force it to blow in secrecy…" he said, hunting for words to finish his odd analogy. "So I ask, what was your fuel, and why did it run out?"
Romeo perked his feathered ear and lifted his lips for another fang-ridden smirk. "That is funny, I read a hospital poster about the 'silent-treatment' on my journey to learn human writing! Congratulations! You have eluded me."
We arrived at Marten's home. It was two-stories tall. The olive drab bricks were scratched to high hell thanks to ol' Romeo. The humie finally stopped the car around, with a chain of clicks unlocking every door.
"Romeo, I'm heading back out. Make sure she doesn't burn the place!"
"Snea-sel!"
Romeo slipped his claws around the door handle and made the quietest exit I'd ever heard. After being chauffeured in first class, I felt the economy side of the coin. With the luxury ball still set to allow me to see through, I got an eye full of tacky wallpaper whipping around. Grandfather clock, a washing machine in the kitchen, scattered cat toys...family photos. Hell if I knew why Romeo hopped into the attic. Where was my shiny new ball? Gone? That's about right. Now I laid on stiff carpet, with a crib sized bed two body lengths in front of me. Window behind the bed. A little moonlight coming from it. Romeo sat on that bed. On second thought the carpet smelled like him. Like book paper and grape juice. I'd buy a candle of that if I ever had money.
"It is convenient you visited. As a precaution, I had Saturn make a small adjustment to my head just before yesterday. Imagine something to me," he said, tapping the gold on his head. Who was Saturn? I didn't know. Suddenly, he smiled.
"If you thought of a little Fennekin, then she did it!" His smile looked nefarious now. "Partial telepathy with me is now possible. If I feel like accepting them, you may flash images to me with your ESP."
Unlike me, that Espeon was a real psychic, helping a dark type unlock his mind some. Romeo always had the key to the safe. She just taught him how to use it, and WHAM, even I could work around his typing.
"Tell me, fox, how does your new human clean you? Soap? Dry clean?" He snickered, not expecting an answer. Seems he noticed my perfume. His blood pressure elevated. Body heat reduced. Stress! "I've known him for long enough. He doesn't! 'Bathing will strip her fur of essential oils!' Now those same oils stain my rug. You will bathe in the snow. I will try to restore your voice before the blizzard."
He tossed his sheets up and fled downstairs. His claw swished around a rotary dial.
"The man I call to fix you is a good friend," yelling, "and in our talks has always mentioned the spirit!"
Romeo sat me against the fence in the backyard. The winds blew like a giant struggled to blow out the candles on his cake. Cold wind, too, I guess I could say 'icy wind!' HA! Romeo and I were at conflict. The snow refused to steam away, yet it struggled to freeze again. There were two fires ahead of me. A real one, then an icy replica to the right.
My ears. I forgot again! He'd been screeching into the woods for five minutes and thirty seconds. Out the corner of my eye, he motioned to someone. If the smell, lemons, is true, that is Lemonade, a Weavile I tried to know-a-guy a few years ago.
"You're rude," she screeched at him. "The term is 'canuck', not 'canukian'! I was migrating south for the summer!"
"I don't care about your personal contrivances. Did you bring the goods, shady lemon?"
"Duh! I always fucking have em', where are yours?!"
"I did not bring any money, consider it compensation for making me wait! Pour me a single glass, made of ice, and with four cubes, please."
"Gotta' lota' nerve..." And after muttering something about 10 dollars, the little girl prepared the drink. The rest of their conversation was trivial. The snowflakes grew twice as large with those two sitting just 12 feet away.
My nose caught wind of two more invaders. One's a Mienshao, using his Gliscor friend as a makeshift jet-pack. They landed by the fire. They delivered pizza. PW, the tall one with a goofy name, shouted something. The bat buddy was P-Bat, who had been named by the fighting-type about as well as anyone would expect.
PW spoke first. "Ahem! Romeo, we have arrived! As requested, 5 cheese pizzas have been delivered in 20 minutes or less!" PW placed the boxes ahead of me, parking himself and his buddy nearby. He received a $20 tip much to the little girl's annoyance. She calmly listed her little grievance to Romeo.
"Can't believe you come to my face with no money, just to hand ol' Sweeps a $20 in TIPS-"
"Thank you, Pizza One," Romeo interrupted. The Sneasel did some circling motions with his claws, trailing his gaze upon me. "My foxy friend here needs spiritual support," pointing at my forehead, "she moves as much as a brick! This is unacceptable!"
"Well her eyes still twitch," PW said, twiddling his whisker. "Basically, her spirit either possessed or is afflicted by unstable aura. My hunch is that heat has overburdened her. While I could try to dig in your kitchen for illicit substances, it would save us a lot of time to just fix this the simple way."
"I call that egg!"
His bat friend blew up. "Nope! Not having it! This is low, even for you," pointing his claws at the slut and the slut. "PW, I'm sick of you and all these fake relationships! Lemonade, you know better than to eat a literal baby!"
Meanwhile the parlor wench looked as if she'd heard the tallest tale in the tower. I know I am ragging on about Lemonade. I will talk about something more worthwhile. The nurse wrote me, after weeks of lettering, you should seek a mental asylum. That was back in 18...something. Had to be after I had Poppy, sometime when that thing found another young lady's life to demolish...1837?
I can tell you if you tread deeper...
I've tried trep tire treaded deeper and deeper...teh the deep deep depth of the reason the nurse born 1770 told me to go to a garden was cauz' I kept seeing, hearing, there an electric could have fixed me, but I never went. Where did I run? I offer one step to you, mister.
You ran north.
Where north?
Above the dust bowl. Away from Miko.
That's impossible. You're implying I could see the future. I can't even see properly. I'm a horoscope. People do not believe me, kids do. Little babies with dreams who know no better. By college they've figured the hoax out. I've seen it wandering the streets and to homes, towards women's wards and towards western wi—man, woman, 8 or so kids. Poppy is the perfect daughter; she is successful and never left me behind. More kids should be like her.
YOU ARE A CHAMPION!
YOU ARE A LEGEND!
YOU ARE CUNNING!
Glorious. The eyes in the sky, my cheering children up there, they speak to Romeo with their golden gleams. They are untrained, untamed by society. Truth is they know what is best. They know he could be a great father. I agree. He's got a head on his shoulders. And a goal besides himself. A similar one at that, and he's just the right amount of pliable. So here he is, 200 years later, my mate. See? I found someone, it just took six generations, birth of billions and billions of new pokemen. But there's 'always someone for you'! How is that for the future?
YOU ARE A CHEATER!
YOU ARE A MURDERER!
YOU ARE HEARTLESS!
I know I am...you should bring me to the memory of my first banquet. Twas' a ration of breast milk at in 3 at the afternoon. Say, you can unlock the inside of my consciousness. How am I sure that you aren't some ghost knocking around?!
We are a ghost, a living ghost. The amount of people we know who are dead far exceed the living. I will bring you further revelations. Come towards the truth. Ignore those rambling kits. This is your truth speaking!
The nurse of 1995 troubles me. Never would I be silly enough to become some paranoid heap of crying fur alone, but I can admit that Poppy is no longer able give unto me a joyous embrace. My human daughter insists that I seek Dante when my real one visits!
First it is a hug, then a kiss, then a ring on my finger. My life is barrelling towards domestication.
For decades, I have watched every moment of your character. Curiosity is the key to your enlightenment and my secrets come in one big safe. What can you offer me in return for your comfort?
Do you hear their voices picking up? That's the hurly burly of a presidential campaign, the big candidate took his locomotive here...he has many supporters, offers to break up the oligarchies and charter the lands to any family with a home...all without disturbing our pokepopulous. What if he were me? What if my name was known every household in America, in every textbook, across the newspapers, what if my head was stamped onto coinage? I wanted to be the world's greatest star, of all time, but I'm old and sterile. There's no purpose to my existence. So, I offer thee this: my potential, my fanny, and even Dante, if for whatever reason you want him.
We are one in the same. You are offering me nothing!
SHAM!
CHEAT!
NARCISSIST!
"Fennyl! Fennyl! Fennyl!"
Why'd everyone at the fire rat me out!? I had my answers THIS close! My vision! Romeo yelled at a saltshaker in the dark, candles spread across the floor. I felt like melting that goofy smile off his face, but my body was trapped up to the neck in blankets in the middle of the attic! The Sneasel's pupils widened from inside his irises. "When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain?"
"When the hurly-burly's done," I said.
"When the battle's lost and won!" He pointed excitedly to the window with an oven mitt.
"That will be ere the set of sun. Little type caster, aint it dusk!?"
"Not quite, it is four in the morning! I paid the Lemon. The pizza men had another order when you fell face first in the snow. Now I wake early for a gift: an actor who is no longer hypothermic."
" 'Gift'. Where is the stage-man?"
He perked his ears, with a grumble coming to his voice. "Surprisingly, he is here! Dante's visits are rare, and so my voice has a purr to it. Greet him and go, you are freed from your rut."
"You should be ashamed."
"I do admit, I had 'toyed' with you. With my old trade's tricks, I put you outside and temperature shocked your body out of heat. With my new trade's trick's, I hid it with some improv and a smile. Now you sit in quilts at a healthy temperature."
My ears slid back my head again. I just had enough energy to flop out the blankets. He frowned more. "Please make sure to bless Dante's years with his starter. Most of his time will be spent caring for you."
``Hm.``