A\N: Okay, so it's been awhile since my last installment. Sorry. Stuff happens. Poo-poo does occur. A lot of not so good things happened and I needed a long time to cool down and get over some pretty terrible losses. Anyway, I'm back now. I don't know why, I don't know how, all I know is that I made it this far, so why not go the extra mile? Enjoy.
Chapter 4
I focused totally on the gorilla. I figured since it was one of the first animals I'd acquired, I could probably morph easier. I knew how emotions could get in the way of the morphing process, and my emotions were running pretty high.
The look on my dad's face changed from one of gentle happiness to a mix between blatant horror and morbid curiosity.
"Marco! What's going on? Are you sick?"
I opened my mouth to speak, but all that came out was 'AGGUU.' Instead I rolled my still human eyes. Here I was, a mutant cross between a gorilla and a boy, and he was asking if I was sick.
Dad didn't say another word until I was done morphing. His back was up against the wall, and I think he was praying.
(Dad?)
"Wha-What's that?" Dad looked terrified. "Who said that? Marco?" He looked straight into my gorilla eyes, perhaps trying to find me somewhere in there.
(It's me, Dad.)
"I hear you....in my head. Oh, God. I'm going insane."
(No, you're not) I assured him. (Everything is fine)
"No, it's not." Dad paced the room. "This is not normal. THIS IS INSANE!!" Hmmmm, where had I heard that before? "My son cannot turn into a monkey!"
(Gorilla) I corrected him.
Dad completely ignored that comment. "What have you done with my son? Where is he?" By now, tears were running down his face.
(Dad, it's me.) I made my voice as light and soothing as I could possibly make it.
"Where is he, you freak? You're not my son!" Dad grabbed the first thing in sight, a coat rack, and held it up in defense.
(Dad, put the coat rack down. You're not going to do much damage. Now just calm down. We need to talk.)
"Calm down? Calm down? How can I?" Dad ran his free hand through his hair. "An overgrown monkey is sitting in my living room, trying to pass as my son."
(DAD!) I thought screamed. I started to morph back to human. This was going to be harder than I expected.
"You're not Marco," Dad repeated, gulping loudly. Still, he watched me change back into my normal self, fascinated and disgusted at the same time. Well, at least I knew he wasn't a Yeerk.
"I'm Marco," I told him softly.
"How can I know that....if you were just....you were just....you know?"
"I know things only Marco could know. I know that in the third grade you had to work and missed the father\son picnic and I refused to speak to you. And then after..." I sucked in a deep breath, trying to fight back the tears that were coming too soon. "After, you made it up by letting me ditch school and taking me camping. I know that you were there last year when I had the German measles. I remember you waiting on me all day long, never leaving my side. And how you'd sing me to sleep, even if you always were a terrible singer." I swallowed. Was he buying this?
"And I remember when I was little and had nightmares, you always let me come into your room and we'd go downstairs and get some ice cream. Then we'd watch late night TV and fall asleep on the couch. I remember when I was ten and you caught me kissing that girl Kelly, behind the school. I remember when I was in second grade and had a crush on my music teacher, Ms. Price, and you were the only one I had the guts to tell."
My father's face turned fifty shades paler with each word. Finally, I fell silent, and he wrapped me in a giant bear hug, his tears mixing in with mine. And he still had no clue about the Yeerks.
"Oh, God, Marco. What's going on?" He whispered never letting me go.
Soon, I had him settled down, and on the couch. I proceeded to tell him everything. About the Yeerks. The Chee. Elfangor. The morphing cube. Andalites. The other Animorphs. Some of our missions. Visser 3. Controllers. Everything. The scientist in him was like a kid in a candy store. All scientists, even if they won't admit it, believe at least partly that aliens are out there. The dad in him, however, was immediately worried.
"You-you've been doing this for how long?" He asked, his face trembling.
"A couple years," I mumbled.
Suddenly I was in his lap, and he was rocking me slowly, and crying. I felt like such a little kid, but it was a good feeling. Most little kids aren't fighting a war like I am.
"Marco, oh, God, why didn't you tell me? I would've helped you out." Dad's face looked as if it were about to split in two.
"I didn't think you could handle it," I whispered. "You had too much on your mind and all......and well," I swallowed, "You coulda been one of them."
Dad didn't say anything for a long time and neither did I. Finally, after an eternity of silence, Dad sighed. I took that as my cue to speak.
"Dad?"
"Yes, Markie?" My dad asked, using his old nickname for me. It sounded weird, possibly because he hadn't called me that since I turned seven.
"We need a plan. I'm not going to let them take you."
Dad stroked my hair softly, and kissed the top of my head. "What do you have in mind?" He finally asked.
"I have a plan," I said, swallowing a lump in my throat. "You're not gonna like this, and I'm not too fond of it either, but it's the only way."
Chapter 4
I focused totally on the gorilla. I figured since it was one of the first animals I'd acquired, I could probably morph easier. I knew how emotions could get in the way of the morphing process, and my emotions were running pretty high.
The look on my dad's face changed from one of gentle happiness to a mix between blatant horror and morbid curiosity.
"Marco! What's going on? Are you sick?"
I opened my mouth to speak, but all that came out was 'AGGUU.' Instead I rolled my still human eyes. Here I was, a mutant cross between a gorilla and a boy, and he was asking if I was sick.
Dad didn't say another word until I was done morphing. His back was up against the wall, and I think he was praying.
(Dad?)
"Wha-What's that?" Dad looked terrified. "Who said that? Marco?" He looked straight into my gorilla eyes, perhaps trying to find me somewhere in there.
(It's me, Dad.)
"I hear you....in my head. Oh, God. I'm going insane."
(No, you're not) I assured him. (Everything is fine)
"No, it's not." Dad paced the room. "This is not normal. THIS IS INSANE!!" Hmmmm, where had I heard that before? "My son cannot turn into a monkey!"
(Gorilla) I corrected him.
Dad completely ignored that comment. "What have you done with my son? Where is he?" By now, tears were running down his face.
(Dad, it's me.) I made my voice as light and soothing as I could possibly make it.
"Where is he, you freak? You're not my son!" Dad grabbed the first thing in sight, a coat rack, and held it up in defense.
(Dad, put the coat rack down. You're not going to do much damage. Now just calm down. We need to talk.)
"Calm down? Calm down? How can I?" Dad ran his free hand through his hair. "An overgrown monkey is sitting in my living room, trying to pass as my son."
(DAD!) I thought screamed. I started to morph back to human. This was going to be harder than I expected.
"You're not Marco," Dad repeated, gulping loudly. Still, he watched me change back into my normal self, fascinated and disgusted at the same time. Well, at least I knew he wasn't a Yeerk.
"I'm Marco," I told him softly.
"How can I know that....if you were just....you were just....you know?"
"I know things only Marco could know. I know that in the third grade you had to work and missed the father\son picnic and I refused to speak to you. And then after..." I sucked in a deep breath, trying to fight back the tears that were coming too soon. "After, you made it up by letting me ditch school and taking me camping. I know that you were there last year when I had the German measles. I remember you waiting on me all day long, never leaving my side. And how you'd sing me to sleep, even if you always were a terrible singer." I swallowed. Was he buying this?
"And I remember when I was little and had nightmares, you always let me come into your room and we'd go downstairs and get some ice cream. Then we'd watch late night TV and fall asleep on the couch. I remember when I was ten and you caught me kissing that girl Kelly, behind the school. I remember when I was in second grade and had a crush on my music teacher, Ms. Price, and you were the only one I had the guts to tell."
My father's face turned fifty shades paler with each word. Finally, I fell silent, and he wrapped me in a giant bear hug, his tears mixing in with mine. And he still had no clue about the Yeerks.
"Oh, God, Marco. What's going on?" He whispered never letting me go.
Soon, I had him settled down, and on the couch. I proceeded to tell him everything. About the Yeerks. The Chee. Elfangor. The morphing cube. Andalites. The other Animorphs. Some of our missions. Visser 3. Controllers. Everything. The scientist in him was like a kid in a candy store. All scientists, even if they won't admit it, believe at least partly that aliens are out there. The dad in him, however, was immediately worried.
"You-you've been doing this for how long?" He asked, his face trembling.
"A couple years," I mumbled.
Suddenly I was in his lap, and he was rocking me slowly, and crying. I felt like such a little kid, but it was a good feeling. Most little kids aren't fighting a war like I am.
"Marco, oh, God, why didn't you tell me? I would've helped you out." Dad's face looked as if it were about to split in two.
"I didn't think you could handle it," I whispered. "You had too much on your mind and all......and well," I swallowed, "You coulda been one of them."
Dad didn't say anything for a long time and neither did I. Finally, after an eternity of silence, Dad sighed. I took that as my cue to speak.
"Dad?"
"Yes, Markie?" My dad asked, using his old nickname for me. It sounded weird, possibly because he hadn't called me that since I turned seven.
"We need a plan. I'm not going to let them take you."
Dad stroked my hair softly, and kissed the top of my head. "What do you have in mind?" He finally asked.
"I have a plan," I said, swallowing a lump in my throat. "You're not gonna like this, and I'm not too fond of it either, but it's the only way."
