Miss Silly Goose feels it her proud duty once more to inform the reading audience that neither

she nor Miss Anthrope own Trigun in any way shape or form. Though she is becoming

exceedingly attached to Knives.

o

o

Knives sits on the porch

o

Knives sat in a rocking chair on the front porch. He was alone. Wolfwood had married

himself to Millie immediately upon his arrival, and the two were off to December to visit his

orphans. This had happened some three weeks ago. Vash and Meryl were both working. Vash

had managed to land himself a job at the "Sweet doughnuts" shop, where he was also learning

the value of self control. And so Knives watched the road that passed in front of the porch. Three

spiders had passed it in the last hour.

"Ha! Pathetic creatures!" Thought Knives. A man and a woman passed. "Parasites all of them,"

he thought, "leeching the blood of my brothers and sisters...inferior creatures...not worthy to

share the land...sigh..." As may be conjectured, Knives had spent many days in the recent past in

this fashion and was beginning to bore of his own antics. Indeed, one can only sit on a porch

inwardly insulting everyone who passes by for so long. He began to twiddle his fingers (He was

just beginning to regain the use of his hands and arms). Vash had left him a book.

"Hmph! Parasytic literature." Knives thought to himself. He began to read it.

"'My poor flowers are quite

dead', said little Ida, 'they were

so pretty yesterday evening,

and now all the leaves are hanging

down quite withered.

What do they do that for?'"

"Hmm", thought Knives. "This isn't too revolting...yet." He continued to read.

"'Have you not seen those beautiful

red, white and yellow butterflies

that look like flowers? They were

flowers once. They have flown off their

stalks into the air, and flap

their leaves as if they were little

wings to make them fly. If they behave well,

(Vash had underlined this part several times)

they obtain permission to fly about

during the day, instead of being obliged

to sit still on their stems at home."

Knives looked up, he was being regarded. He recognized the spider who had brought the

doughnuts a few weeks back. She was dressed in a simple blue dress. Knives could see her better

this time, that is, without soup impeding his vision. He could see she had rosy cheeks

and a light smattering of freckles. Her hair was brown and stuck out at an

odd angle at the back, due to a rather extreme cowlick. She smiled at him, a wide ear to ear type

of smile, and continued on her way. Knives thought she looked just like a flower. Suddenly he

realized what he was thinking. "Oh, no! What am I thinking! I must be losing my mind! It must

be this silly insiped little book I'm reading." With that thought he tossed the book aside and

resumed his former occupation, that is glaring and thinking up insults for each person who

passed. Over the course of the next three hours no one passed. Knives sighed. He wished he

hadn't thrown the book.

P.S. Story excerpt taken from "Little Ida's flowers" by Hans Christian Anderson