Chapter 3: The Birth of Evil
Nine months later …
I hate hospitals, headquarters of psycho doctors and quacks alike.
And the birthplace of evil.
Babies, for example.
Namely, Mom's baby.
Specifically, the baby that's gonna ruin my life.
Undoubtedly, the baby who I've been planning to get rid of for the past nine months.
And hopefully, the baby who I will be able to get rid of.
All in due time, of course. 'Sides, maybe I can turn my new sibling into a willing slave.
"A willing slave? Puh-leeze," says Hobbes, rolling his emerald-green eyes. "Who in the right mind would want to serve you? Perish the thought!"
"Rather have someone serving me rather than serving a living throw-rug like you," I say, sticking my tongue out at him. A doctor passes by as I do so, giving me a strange look. I glare back. If I hate hospitals, I hate doctors even more: anyone in the medical profession give me the creeps.
If you haven't figured out by now, thinking me random for ranting about medical stuff, we are in a hospital.
Mom was about to give birth.
She is in the delivery room, and Dad is with her, whereas Hobbes and I are waiting ever-so-patiently outside the delivery room, sitting on the ugliest – and the most uncomfortable – orange plastic chairs; a horse-faced nurse sits with us. It feels like we've been waiting out here forever – I mean, how long does it take to pop out a (small, icky and life-ruining) baby anyway?
"It must be agony, I'm sure, to give birth," says Hobbes. His eyes glitter mischievously. "Even more so for your Mom when she had to give birth to you."
"Oh, like you know that," I snap, scowling.
"Like I know what, Calvin?" says the horse-faced nurse, smiling in a most demonic manner in my direction.
"I'm not talking to you, evil spawn," I say, crossing my arms defensively. "I am conferring with my good friend here, who is an expert in aikido, which translates into "the Way of harmonious spirit," meaning if you try to speak to us again he'll rip your evil spirit into shreds with his Claws of Fury."
"But Calvin – "
"BE GONE, Evil Spirit!"
"Calvin, calm down – "
"Cantankerous quack! Avaricious anesthesiologist! NIGHT NURSE!"
"Kid, don't make me sedate you!" screeches the horse-faced hospital Harpy, closing in on us.
"ARGH!" Hobbes and I cry, holding onto each other, "We're gonna DIE!"
But just as the Angel of Death is about to finish us off, the doors of the delivery room slam open: a middle-aged guy wearing scrubs walks out (the Head Quack, I suspect), wearing a surprised expression on his face.
"Nurse Somers, what is that infernal racket?" he thunders.
("Pooh, he's a clichéd Head Quack," I whisper to Hobbes.)
"Sorry, Doctor, but the boy is being a bit … excitable," the nurse replies, looking sheepish. "I tried to calm him down, but it didn't exactly work out."
"Calm me down? She tried to kill me and my best friend!" I say to the Head Quack. I shove Hobbes towards him. "Go on, Hobbes! Tell him how she attempted to extract our blood with a syringe!"
"A syringe? Seriously?" replies Hobbes, raising an eyebrow.
"You're not helping, Hobbes," I growl under my breath.
"Well, you started it."
Before I can reply to that, the Head Quack interrupts with a dismissive wave of his hand. "That's all very well," he says, "but it's not important right now. The good news is that the C-Section was successful."
He looks at me with a toothy smile. "That means, young man, your Mom gave birth to a very healthy baby. She and the baby are doing just fine. Your Dad, on the other hand, is a bit shaky, I don't know why –"
"Oh, cut the smooth talk, you sadistic surgeon!" I howl, beginning to sweat profusely; my heart is beating at a very fast rate now. Grabbing at his clothes, I say pathetically, "Give it to me straight, Doc: the baby … is it a boy, or is it a girl?"
The Head Quack looks bemused, and for that I want to curse at him senselessly, but I don't have the strength to – only enough to hear the doctor's answer.
"Sheesh, you're so dramatic," mumbles Hobbes, rolling his eyes.
"Well?" I yell at the Head Quack, ignoring my best buddy. "Boy or girl?"
The Head Quack glances at the horse-faced nurse with a raised eyebrow – she shrugs her shoulders. The man glances back at me, and he sighs.
"It's a girl. You have a sister, Calvin."
…
It's as if my world just got obliterated right before my very eyes.
NEVER, would I have expected the words "Calvin", "have", "sister" and "girl" in the same sentence.
EVER.
"You alright, Calvin?" I hear the Quack's voice buzzing nearby. "You've gone quite pale all of a sudden."
"Calvin?" buzzes Hobbes's voice. "You look like you're gonna faint, pal."
I don't answer him – or, at least, I don't remember answering him.
At that moment, all goes black.
"Calvin? Sweetie?"
"I think he's in shock – and you thought I'd be dramatic!"
"Hush up, dear – look, I think Calvin is coming around!"
"Honey, it would be fair to also keep your voice down as well, seeing as you already told me to – and I quote – "Hush up"."
"Who gave birth – me or you?"
"That's no excuse."
"Boy, when I recover, I'm coming after you with a dishcloth."
"I'm petrified. Really, I am."
A sigh. "And yet I love you anyway."
"Ditto." A pause. "I'm proud of you, you know."
"That's so sweet."
"Ugh, what happened to "oh look, Calvin is coming around"?" I groan, opening my eyes slowly. I find myself staring at a white ceiling, which inevitably makes my eyes ache in pain. Bit by bit, I shift into a sitting position, propping myself on my elbows. "Like, where am I? Where are the people I call parents?"
"Right here, Calvin," says Dad, who pops up beside me, scaring the living bejabbers out of me. "We're in the recovery room, where your mother, the baby and even you are recuperating. You fainted not long after the birth, so the doctor booked an extra bed, too. And here you are, awaking from your fainting spell three hours later."
"I did not faint," I say, crossing my arms. "I collapsed."
"What's the difference?"
"Collapsing is much manlier," I reply. Then it hit me. "Whoa! Did you say, three hours later?"
"Keep your voice down, son," says Dad/the Dictator of my Soul. "Yes, you were out for three hours. Mind you, apart from the hustle and bustle of hospital life, your mother threatening me and the baby screaming for the first time, it was relatively peaceful while you were out – "
"Dad, where's Hobbes?" I interrupt his ramblings.
"Right here," I hear my Mom say. I look behind Dad, and lo and behold, there is Hobbes, the stripy traitor, snuggling in the crook of my Mom's right arm; a pink bundle rests in the crook of her left arm.
My eyes widen at the sight of the bundle. "Mom, is that the baby?"
"Of course, Calvin," replies Mom. She looks a bit tired, but there's a funny twinkle in her eyes that I've never seen before. "The doctor said she was so healthy that I got to have some bonding time with her after she was born."
"Do you want to look at her, son?" asks Dad, helping me off the hospital bed. "She looks a lot like your mother, actually."
How depressing!
"Just keep your voice down, though," says Dad. "The baby is fast asleep."
Dad leads me over to Mom, lifting me up onto her bed, and he plucks Hobbes from Mom's grasp and hands him over to me.
"Thanks for being so thoughtless and abandoning me like that," I mutter, glaring at Hobbes.
"I'm not the one who fainted," Hobbes mutters back, sticking a tongue out at me.
Shaking my head at him, I turn to look at the bundle which Mom proffers up to me. I lean in more, peering inside …
"Nyagh goo?"
… and I proceed to fall off the bed with a yelp.
("Calvin 0, fainting 2," says Hobbes with a snicker.)
"Holy ragamuffins!" I exclaim, planting a hand over my overly-fast-beating heart. "What was that?"
"Ah, Melanie is awake," answers Dad, neglecting to help me up, but it's just as well – I would have fallen again anyway at the shock of hearing the imp's name.
"M-M-Melanie? You're calling the thing "Melanie"?" I say in horror.
"Calvin, we've been talking about potential baby names for months now," answers Mom, cradling the bundle, from which vexing little noises emanated. "We agreed that if it was a girl, we'd call her Melanie. Really Calvin, you must pay attention to these things."
Maybe because I've been busy plotting and planning to rid myself of this mini misfortune, Mom.
Getting up on the bed again, I edge nearer to the bundle, mentally preparing myself for the sight of my new (ugh) sister.
Let's just say, I've never been more sickened at the sight.
She has a pink, wrinkly face – in fact, she's pink and wrinkly all over. A small button nose and a wet little mouth; closed eyelids with a dark hue; a patch of fuzzy, dark hair, and tiny, sticky-looking fingers.
Yup, she definitely looks like Mom, alright. She has Mom's "morning" look down-pat.
"Prrry ngh," the thing mutters in baby-language.
Heh, sounds like Mom in the morning, too.
"Isn't she cute?" says Mom and Dad together, practically gushing over nothing.
"Frankly, I don't see anything cute about baby drivel," I say to Hobbes as my parents make googly-eyes at (double ugh) Melanie.
"It's not so much what Melanie spews – it's how she says it," Hobbes replies, smiling. He has a funny twinkle in his eyes, too.
"Hey, whose side are you on?" I hiss under my breath. "This baby – this girl – is gonna ruin our lives if we don't put our plans into action soon!"
"Well, when do you plan to, you know, initiate our plans?" asks Hobbes quietly as we stare (well, glare in my case) at the baby.
"Not just yet," I reply. "I want to study this baby before I do anything. Her weaknesses, her character, her goals – anything to make getting rid of her easier."
"That'll take a while," says Hobbes, raising his eyebrows. "After all, she's still just a baby."
"You know what they say, dynamite comes in small packages," I answer, glaring daggers at the baby, "and believe me, I intend to blow her up."
Oh Melanie, just wait until you see what Big Brother has planned just for you! Enjoy the day of your birth, 'cause I get the feeling you won't be celebrating any more birthdays in the future …
For two weeks, I've been on a Van Helsing high – just saying. ^-^ It might explain why Calvin is all exorcist/hunter-like.
I'm kinda glad how this chapter came out. Makes me wonder what'll happen next. You may be wondering why I chose the name Melanie for Calvin's new sister – it's very simple: remember that one C&H comic strip where Calvin writes a letter to Santa Claus posing as his "little brother, Melvin"? Of course, because the baby is a girl (which would be more fun for good ol' girl-hating Calvin), Melanie was a close enough name, 'specially to Melvin. ;)
Thanks for the faves and reviews! Keep 'em coming!
Happy holidays! ;)