IN CAPTIVITY
There's a little thing I say about the ocean, it's never still! The low tide is GONE! DONE! Can't be any gladder! Also can't remember jack about how the heat ended but I was medicated! I'd dress up and hand those kiddos liquorice if it were Halloween!
I spied with my little eye the boring prose Dante would have plagiarized: 'Raised domestically, a Delphox enjoys a doubled lifespan, is less aggressive, and rarely reverts to wild behaviors like scent marking. Homes housing these pokemon must still have a plethora of fire-proofing measures, however. Socialization is also very important: an anti-social Delphox will use its powers to harm anyone it pleases.'
Being caged with him so long, I personally examined every neuron in that Dante. I'd absorbed his voice, his preferences, his fears, fantasies, even that his favorite color is turquoise! He's another card in my bag of tricks, and speaking of tricks, I'd finally 'broken into' his home. Figured that out yesterday when I got up. I dug a bottle of isopropyl out the bathroom and dug into the laundry for a towel without a single door slamming into me! Shaking a Molotov at him was more fun now that I wasn't dizzy.
``HA! Calm down! The Molotov just gots water in it!``
I ought to tip him one of these days. He's quite amusing.
March 14, 2019. "Page 8, Day 45"
Me alone, drifting in amber oil, thick, luscious amber oil. The lipids seep into every strand of fur on my delicate skin, caress the pores, it tugs me gently, pulling me into a brown-to-black abyss. I try to moan fire, but the heat trembles in my trachea, stuck. My lungs seize, my veins beg, I must breathe! My jaws open. Oil seeps by my fangs, rams past my tongue, I gag; the thick oil invades my throat and stuffs my lungs. Muscles ten thousand pounds heavy, my heart yearns for oxygen. My voice box flutters up and down like a rabid bat. Eyes wide. I'm a captive audience to my death. My final message? A single bubble of air trapped in amber.
When I became conscious, the lamplight petrified me in the same flavor of orange. Brown shadows, hot stenches clogging my respiratory system—my mind throws a seizure! Time taught me two things about dreaming: either this was real, and millions of years later I really was going to be displayed in a museum, or that I'd flayed some shmuk the wrong way and shook up some of their mental riffraff.
RIIING! RIIING! RIIING!
That ringing was just my brain, and no its not some hallucination. His alarm rung around my mind exactly 30 seconds before it shouted every afternoon. One of those perks of clairvoyance. I'm at the side of his bed looking straight at the ceiling, laying on drooly cardboard, slight skunk scent from his sheets, my fingers are itching. I use that.
Bam! Front and center in his red suede couch, and he conveniently left the remote under the cushion! I shifted my ear hair aside; it was getting long, even as one thick braid behind my back. Now I popped a show on! I wonder what Serena's been up to—
"Two girls, the patient Blueberry, and the excitable Cherry, face life's challenges as they grow up. 6.5/10 Rated: E."
Hmph. In about 27 and a half seconds, that alarm was going to blow. Today, I wanted him to act like a grown man. As grown as a homo-sapien 7 times younger than me can act anyway.
"AT this time of day?!" His ensuing curses, weak and dreary, flew forth into the air. In his fit, he swatted his phone off the nightstand, hairs of his neck standing after seeing my empty bedding.
``Good morning to you too,`` I shouted. His mom woke him up fast.
He did not repeat my greeting. That will be punished.
``Say what Mr. Dante,`` reverting to my voice, ``how about ya smile over there? Humies look crummy when they're standing in the mirror in their underwear.``
"Ok traffic cone."
In seven seconds, the troglodyte emerged from his cave, hunched over and red eyed. The ape forgot his other cloths, though for the last month, such was true. Here is his punishment. Prepare.
``I mean, think about it. She saw me with MY eyes. If she can just do that all casual, how does she not have a handle on herself? I don't know mister, not even a little bit. I left my secrets back in Idaho.`` Dante shuffled past my couch, heading to the kitchen without even acknowledging the fox he loved pamper so much.
This episode was season one, episode five, 'Strezzz'. The poorly named 'Blueberry' and her handler, 'Cherry', were trying to eat hotdogs in an outdoor studio propped in the fields of Oklahoma. Their picknick was interrupted by a tasty Cutiefly released by a producer offstage. Cherry rolled up a napkin to bludgeon the critter with. Rather, her stagehands had rolled it.
"Shoo! Buzz off! Leave," whipping around the napkin. "I heard they have a lot of solutions in Australia for these things!"
LAUGH TRACK.
"It won't listen or can't hear us; I don't know what's worse!"
Pause! The humie shook around another noisy thing of box-grains! I imagined him now, head tilt, box inches from his lips, tongue yearning for box-grains. The cereal inside the plastic baggie prevented itself from avalanching straight out. It fought hard to avoid his morning breath.
I've got to go to the bank later.
``I don't hear ya pouring the cereal.``
"I'm staring down the barrel right now."
``Well shoot! Seems ya lookin for something, new, quick, cheap! Stares you in the face and you don't take it!``
"Fast food…I don't want fast food."
``What about some tots and a club sandwich?``
"It's too salty. Look, I don't really know what I want. I'm not hungry anyway."
``Ya say that then ya end up fasting again. Last time I checked, you only believed in Arceus."
He took too long to respond. Play.
"Then we must speak its language, Cherry! Bzz Bzz Bzz!"
LAUGH TRACK.
"Its only language is nom nom nom! What do we do?"
I spoke over the show. ``Tell ya what, since my fur is grown in some, how about we grab some burgers, animal style!``
The pidgy-livered man stood silently, fearful of the grains. Meanwhile, Blueberry ripped off a tiny chuck from her hot-dog and put it to the side. The two watched the Cutiefly buzz to it. The little pest no longer bothered them, having a new source of food to pillage.
"Sometimes, you make problems a little bigger than they really have to be."
Pause, look longingly backward at your Joe. Observe his shift in scent. Hear his yearning ignore his fetish for resistance.
"Fine. We'll go."
And the fiery I6 roared through the winter frost! The skies cried! Harshly! A curtain of water falling from the sky! Crashing off the metal hide of the van, our combustion-carriage! Dante swung his head, left, right, at every intersection! The weather ducts blasted hot air, twirling around the cabin. Between that and the bumbling of unused seat belts, my eyelids became heavy. Had to mentally fight it, keep my eyes peeled. The kind lad was taking me for a tour around the city after all! Made having my ears crammed against the roof a bit better.
``Where are we going next?`` He clamped his fingers on the wheel, pondering. I yawned in the middle of my sentence. ``I'll be damned into a ditch if I don't use my powers cauz' a some humie law! I got ESP, I got fire powers, I got to use em'!``
"Mm."
``Are we going to the fire house or not?``
"Read my mind If you want to know so bad!"
``Eyes on the road, mister!``
What I say seemed to hardly influence him. No, I knew that already. Dante loved to shift the blame. Anyways, he had a thing for the driving experience, so much that he ended up playing bus boy from one end of the city to another. In the middle of our journey his complaints about fuel costs became so numerous I snorted awake! We went down a busy street for a while and turned towards an ordering lane for a yellow and pink burger joint. Then Dante inched up to the ordering lane! We had to wait for two other cars until ONE of us could order!
``Whatcha doin'? This isn't where you park!``
"My hair's a mess." So what of his fur? His concern should be about not having any pants on!
`` You don't want to sit under a stale lamp and eat a lunch prepared by meth-addicted teenagers on a budget of 45 seconds? All whilst I fleece everyone of their vile intentions, teetering between fight and flight? The satisfaction of winning such a dare is a drug in of itself.`` The van jolted forward, shaking some of my hairs into the air. I pressed deep into my seat. Dante pulled out a lollipop, and added the wrapper to a pile in the cup holder.
"What do you want?" I glanced at the gear stick for a second, then at Dante's messy afro, then at the trees at the edge of the property.
"Hurry up."
I decided on an eight-year-old's voice. ``I want three large fries, a milkshake, NOT chocolate, 4 apple pies murican' style, one coke, two cheeseburgers, two junior cheeseburgers, five pickles on the fourth burger, and a girl's toy.``
And he looked at me, thin lipped. "That's a funky way of saying 'too much'. Order on your own if you want all that."
The car ahead pulled up to the menu. ``Have some sense. Look over here. Look just a bit. See? I'm in Rhode Island and your out in Cali. Guess which sides gets the food?``
"Rhode Island."
``And why?``
"The other one burns up too much."
``Fine! Mug up on sharing, then!`` I reached behind my ear, snapped a special something out his left pocket and handed it to him. He smiled, I smiled, a magician's trick made—
HONK!
``Little greasy bastard in the SUV behind us, shaped like and egg, stubble on his chin, hair dipped in oil! Has a mean snarl, his top lipped tucked under his buck-teeth, staring with squirrely eyes!`` Ha! The welp tucked his head half behind the steering wheel, freaking about the voice in his head! That would serve him for interrupting me. The tires slipped for a second as we were jolted up to the menu. Dante ordered, we jolted forth again.
At the window, the cashier girl looked bog-standard for humie females. Not THICK, not thin, not TALL, not short, not purebred, not an utter mutt. "Cash or debit," she said. Her face as cold as her tone.
"Credit."
Even by the time that the yellow-pink stripped bags came to us, Dante still had trouble finishing his giggles from the back-and-forth the two had about his choice of payment. He lunged his two bags though the driver side window, taking a lengthy look through each before finally sitting my bag in my lap. He kept his eyes on the rear-view mirror all the while.
"Is the guy behind us alright? His engine is making all kinds of bangin' noise."
``Sounds like an entire cylinder is missin'.``
"Missing?"
``Gone! That's real dangerous! I hope he gets help from someone soon! It might just blow...``
"Wicked son of a witch."
He yanked us forward again, Dante throwing us back in our seats with his shit driving. We sped out and swerved into a parking space. Soon, he brought out the heavyweights, the greasy-cheesy-mayonnaise, sour pickles, lettuce fried to American heaven—All imbuing the paper bags with glorious stains of flavor! Our meals were a fine treat. We ate, we talked, and we relaxed for some time. He lolled around in his quenched hunger, staring aimlessly into the sky or some scratch on the dashboard. As for I, I recalled my first 'Carolina Style' fast food bag. On that black, icy, night, a local drive-in-dine was my beacon of hope. To that family who gave food to the starving Braixen, rather than try and catch it, I thank you. That was on March of 1938; no one has given me a bag since! Especially not with free burgers inside! Wait...
``Remember the last time I tried to thank ya? Back on Valentines? You were rude.`` He stared at me, a feverish stomach rumbling away. ``Color me surprised. Out of all the times I've blacked out or went nuts, I'm not dead, not boxed, not even scratched. Thanks.``
"I've got a confession," he said.
``I already know it.``
"I've got to get it off my chest." Dante sat up, itching dandruff from his hair. "I didn't care enough in the beginning, you were just a chore. That isn't right," he trailed. Unrelated thoughts hounded him, but he remained on topic. "What do you think?"
``I already knew it.``
"So... are we good? It's hard to read you."
I held my cheeks and I shook my head left and right. ``I admit it has been one of the most splendid experiences of my entire life! I teased about that adrenal rush, but dwelling in the mediocrity of a humie's life has its own adorable little appeal~!``
Honestly, I embellished because wanted him to hurry up and make me famous, but I think I snapped something in him instead. He leaned into to me, and before I knew it, his arms were wrapped around my back! Crushing my ribs! Sinking tears into my fur! Just like that amber, he stuck to me.
"You are a mess. Want to hear something?"
``I'm all ears.``
He released the hug with a hint of hesitation. Reality bit at his heels. "As of three in the afternoon today I'm under by 125 thousand You-Ess-Dee. If the bank wants that hellhole of a home I've got, they can have it! You have to figure something out on your own. I'm broke."
``Dante, ya got the queen of homelessness right here! Tell ya a little secret. I didn't spend every day in the can, not as a Delphox. See those shady motels, the type fifty somethings bring Thai girls to? I teleport into an empty room. Nick the needles from the roof tiles.`` I began to cackle. It's instinct. ``Ya know, 'Introduce' the owner. 'Greet' the neighbours. Even the bedbugs were BEGGING for me to stay!``
He laughed for a small while. "Geez. Remember what you said in February? You apologized to me after we left the store?" I nodded. "It was something like 'we can keep each other safe without being there'? Please don't hang around while I piece my life back together. Get some help."
Then he slapped his hands on the wheel, shoved it in reverse, and our trip ended right back home.