The Stink of Clean

Miyu dreamt of her childhood, and of redundancy. Because isn't that all memories are anyway? Her dreams were strange. She was around seven, and was camping in a strange wood with her parents. Her mother was trying to ignite an already roaring fire. Whenever Miyu mentioned the absurdity of this to her father, he would only repeat "Don't cross the stream. You'll fall". It was rather confusing. It got worse when Miyu's mother suddenly grabbed a burning branch and began hitting her father over the head with it. *What the HELL?*. Strangely, her father didn't seem to mind at all, and seemed to be staring at *Miyu* rather expectantly. Her mother kept resolutely pounding on her father's head, though she seemed to be doing it rather strangely. She would pound steadily for five beats, then rest, then five more, and on.

Miyu shook her head and yawned, opening her eyes blearily, still hearing the pounding of her dream echoing around in her skull. She was under a window, where air drifted lazily in. Miyu remembered opening it just before she went to sleep, in order to air out the room. She sat up, realizing the sound she heard was someone pounding on the door. She got up slowly, walking over and opening the door to be confronted by a large mob of angry neighbors.

"What in GOD'S name are you doing over here?!" One large and irate housewife demanded. "Where's that smell coming from?"

"She makin' METH! She makin' METH!" one of her scrawny, elderly male neighbors wailed. Miyu was pretty sure his name had something to do with canker sores.

Miyu leaned against the doorframe, sighing. "What do you want? Haven't you ever heard of peace and the sanctity of one's home?"

"She said TITTY!" The man yelled. He was backhanded by his Mistress, since she was currently living with him in sin. (Sick, eh?) The crowd erupted in demands and accusations, someone even waving a nearby garden hose at Miyu, since no torches or pitchforks were to be had.

Miyu pinched the bridge of her nose and growled.

The overweight housewife, obviously the leader, hushed everyone and turned back to Miyu. "Naw, we ain't sayin' you doin' wrong ova hea, (I guess they're in the South), but t'ain't right for a girl your age ta be hangin' round all bye hersef, with no one..ta……..tuhhhhh…….."

Miyu raised an eyebrow questioningly at her abrupt halt, then looked over her should to see what everyone was staring at.

Larva was standing at the beginning of the hallway, leaning over to peer out the door, ever ready to protect Miyu. He happened to be wearing a very small, pink towel wrapped around his waist, and nothing else. His hair was a little soggy and clung to his face. He smiled waveringly at the crowd worshipping him with their eyes. Miyu firmly slammed the door shut in their faces.

(P.S) It was a VERY small pink towel.