Fate

Chapter 4

Despite her original belief, Slappy found that her nephew was very eager to get food into his stomach, quickly tearing into anything set down in front of him with the ferociousness of a Doberman. "Slow down before ya choke kiddo," she recommended. Skippy looked up at her, a burger clutched in his hands as if he was afraid someone would try to separate him from it. "I said "kiddo", not that which shall not be uttered." He quickly returned to his food, taking several large bites out of the burger before ripping off the plastic lid and straw from his drink and chugging a good half of it. He put the cup down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, searching for the next thing he could swallow. "Did they feed you in there?" the grey squirrel asked, head resting on her fist as she continued to watch in horrified amusement. Skippy nodded, grabbing a handful of fries and shoving them into his mouth. Despite the ghastly sight, the older squirrel enjoyed the seeing him acting less . . . angst filled, even if it was at the cost of a few dozen pretty pennies.

Skippy swallowed and, needing a breath of air, dropped his arms to his side, leaving the little food that had survived the first round. The young squirrel had to admit that a full stomach had him feeling better, and had even gotten him out of his head. It was also a breath of relief to know that he didn't need to smash a television to calm down, but he did learn that this method could draw just as much of a crowd. Adults and children were staring at him in what was obviously disgust. He sunk into his seat and avoided making eye contact with anyone, waiting for them to move on. Slappy, noticing this odd display of embarrassment, turned to the people and shooed them away, telling them to mind their own business. It was a bit flattering, and Skippy had to admit it made him slightly less resentful of his aunt. "So, if you know I smashed the television, why aren't you taking me back? Or are you doing that after you feed me?" he asked, realizing he no longer wanted the uncomfortable silence that was unavoidable with pouting.

"But I thought you were just a kid, one without a mallet on hand?" she smugly replied, taking a swig from her own drink. Skippy grimaced, forgetting in his feral eating that their conversation never officially reached a verdict on what had happened. He glanced down at his feet, not long enough to reach the ground from the high seat of the booth. Now he knew why she hadn't taken him back yet. She was still iffy on whether he'd actually done it, but now that he had admitted to it she was probably going to turn the car in the other direction and drive him back. "I'm not taking you back, and I'm not angry." She explained, earning a confused glance from the unexpectedly relieved boy. It wasn't that he wanted to stay with her, but he definitely couldn't spend any more time in that crappy room. "I would've done the same thing if I was you, probably a lot more too. What I want to know is how you did it?" she leaned forward on the table, a sign of her curiosity. Skippy's back straightened as he sat up and moved his head a few inches away from hers.

"What do you mean?"

"Have you ever smashed something like that before?"

"No," he shook his head and reached for another fry, finding the box empty when he came up empty handed. Slappy pushed her own order over to him, which he reluctantly accepted. "That was the first time."

"Good, so how'd you get the mallet?"

He debated on whether or not he should tell her, after all this was one of his longest and most well-kept secrets, one he was afraid would scare people away. He knew 'toons could produce mallets, but he'd never heard of a child doing it. Despite that, he was curious as to how someone would react if they found out, what questions they might ask or answers they could give. Was he supposed to be able to do this, to pull things from out of nowhere like Bugs Bunny or his aunt? Deciding that she might be able to offer up some answers, he sighed and summed it up. "I reached behind my back and grabbed it, like you do." He demonstrated by eating the fries and placing his arm behind his back, but as he expected it came up empty when he pulled it back. Slappy looked at him, confused. The brown squirrel sensed the next question and offered a quick explanation before she could ask. "I can only do it when I'm mad."

"So who taught you how to do it?" she asked, sad to learn that his mother had let someone else teach him the things she easily could have.

"No one, I just kind of learned it myself." Slappy nodded and went silent. The brown squirrel sat there for a few moments, waiting for her next question. He picked up what remained of his burger and finished it off while she remained quiet, obviously deep in thought. Slappy was aware that it wasn't unheard of for a toon to develop minor hammerspace abilities without proper teaching, but even then it was usually in their adult years, far too late to utilize its full potential. Rare cases had been reported about some developing in teen years, but never had a toon as young as Skippy been able to use hammerspace, at least not without proper teaching and guidance, not to mention the outrageously priced schools they had to be sent to. Skippy somehow had access to this ability without prior training, and all on his own. Sure, it still evaded him by only working when he was angry but it was really there, ready to be honed and nourished and strengthened. Of course it wasn't her decision to make on whether or not he was trained to be an archtoon, it was his, and the next and last question followed.

"Do you want to learn more?"

Skippy had been staring out the window when the question was asked and quickly turned to her with a puzzled look on his face. "What do you mean?"

"Do you want to learn how to grab that mallet, or anything else, from hammerspace whenever you wanted? I can teach you how if you'd like."

Skippy paused, wondering what the catch or endgame was. After learning about his large breakdown, she wanted to teach him how to use a mallet whenever he felt like it? Either this was a trick or Slappy was crazy beyond all belief. Maybe she was using reverse-psychology on him, or trying to get him in trouble? He looked around the joint, glancing at the people behind the counter as they grilled fries and returned change. In a ridiculously paranoid state, he wondered if they were in on it, or maybe one of the dozen people sitting at tables and booths, eating food and talking amongst themselves. Then again, perhaps there was no "perhaps" about it. Maybe she was just offering to be nice, as she had been for the past few hours by buying him food and not yelling at him for smashing that television. With her actions grouped and summarized Skippy realized the true motivations behind the offer, as well as the unusual level of nicety she was displaying. It was the same reason she had taken him in until he could be placed with a foster family, and why she couldn't look him in the eyes for more than a second or two at a time.

She felt guilty.

This was her way of easing that guilt, of making sure she didn't feel too bad when she sent him away in a month or two. Slappy was looking for a way to ease her conscious, and he expected he'd see a lot more of her faux compassion over the next few weeks. That thought alone almost made Skippy turn down the offer in anger, but the thought of being able to grab his mallet, or whatever else he wanted, whenever he felt like it was ultimately what led him to swallow his pride and accept. "Yes, I'd like to learn how." Skippy replied, imagining what he'd be capable of after a few sessions with her. "But if this is some way of trying to get me to forgive you about getting rid of me soon, know that I will never forgive you, or consider you a part of my family." With that cold statement, and a small fire in his eyes, the squirrel grabbed his tray of ravaged food and slid out of the booth, walking to the trash can by the door and dumping the wrappers and containers into it. Slappy stayed seated, stunned by what he had said. "You coming?" he asked from the entrance on the other side of the room.

Slappy nodded and slid out of the booth, disregarding her tray and leaving it at the table. She was impressed at how Skippy had correctly inferred her intentions, now certain that his intelligence was probably what contributed to his hammerspace ability. Still, she'd hoped he'd been more grateful about her offer, even if it was for selfish purposes. The grey squirrel followed her nephew out the door and towards the car, silent as the grave. It wasn't often people could predict Slappy or her plans, and somehow Skippy, naïve to her world and only a child, was able to do just that. She hoped he wasn't as stubborn as she was and that, after some time, he'd come around and find a small part that wanted to forgive her. The young squirrel hopped in the car and buckled his seatbelt while thoughts of what he'd soon be able to do making him crack a small smile. They drove back onto the ramp to the highway, continuing the trek to her home.

They exchanged no words for the rest of the drive, letting the radio keep the silence at bay. They reached Burbank a few minutes after the sun had sunken and Skippy was quickly amazed by all the shops and lights that lit up the streets as the sun had started to set, unprepared for the busyness of the city. He had been raised in a small town his entire life and had never seen so much activity going on at the same time, where people were stumbling in and out of bars and shops, standing in lines to get into music-blasting clubs, making out with their girlfriends or boyfriends on the sidewalk, and generally having irresponsible fun. From his introduction Skippy quickly pegged California as a place of reckless and wild enjoyment, one that he imagined he could have a little fun in after learning some new tricks from Slappy. "So do you live in some high-class penthouse, or a mansion?" he asked, speaking for the first time in the last hour.

"Close," Slappy vaguely answered, making a quick turn into a park entrance. For a second he swore he saw a smile form, but if it had been there it was gone in a flash. The young squirrel glanced in the rearview mirror as the lights and buildings moved farther and farther away. He hoped to see them again soon, finding there vibrancies oddly soothing. "We're here." Slappy exclaimed, the car slowing to a stop. Skippy glanced up from the mirror, expecting to see some large and dazzling mansion gate or highrise building. "Home; no place like it, huh kid?" she exclaimed, removing her keys from the ignition and unclipping her seatbelt. Skippy looked at her as if her hair was on fire, trying to speak. All that came out were some squeaks and non-sense syllables. "You coming?" she asked, stepping out of the vehicle. "Do I need to bring out a blanket or –"

"You live in a tree?" the young squirrel finally managed to ask, fumbling with his seatbelt. Indeed a tree was resting directly in front of them, complete with a few windows and a blue door cut into the front.

"Well I am a squirrel," she replied, watching him jump out of the car. "Why, were you expecting something different?"

"But you said . . ." Skippy abruptly paused, deciding that there was no point in arguing over a temporary home. In a month he'd be watching it disappear in the rearview mirror of a car just as he had with the streets of Burbank. "At least tell me it's bigger on the inside?" He jumped out of the car and slammed the door shut before passing Slappy as he approached the front door.

"A lot of archtoons have hammerspace installed into their homes, so thankfully yes, yes it is." She replied, unlocking the door. Skippy poked his head inside the house, as if a trap was set up on the other side waiting to spring the second he stepped foot inside. "I'm pretty sure it won't bite kid." The old squirrel stepped past him and flicked a light switch on the wall beside her. The living room was directly in front of him, decorated with posters and awards of Slappy herself. Skippy found it extremely vain, but figured that if he'd accomplished as much and earned as many he'd display them too. There was a red couch resting in the center of a large rug colored like a target, with red and white circles forming a repeating pattern. There was also a pink couch tucked over in the corner and a small television pressed against the wall, a VCR and some tapes lying on top. There was an entrance leading into another room, a closet with a few locks and latches keeping it closed, and a set of wooden stairs ascending to the top of the tree. "You can come in whenever ya'd like." Slappy placed her umbrella in a stand behind the door and walked into the other room without so much as a second look at the nervous young lad.

Skippy stepped inside and glanced around, taking closer looks at the posters and awards. Slappy had been quite the star back in her day and it excited him to think that she would be the one to teach him how to get a better handle on his abilities. He might not have liked her, but there was no denying she was extremely talented, especially when she had so many shiny cups and figurines. Maybe he'd be a cartoon star like her when he was older! The brown squirrel suddenly realized a slight hint of idolization forming towards his aunt and quickly pushed the thought away, repeating to himself that being like her wasn't what he wanted. His attention turned from the posters to the closet, each of its locks raising his curiosity to another unbearable level. "What's in here?" he asked, twisting the knob despite knowing it wouldn't open. Slappy poked her head out of the other room to see what he was referring to.

"Nothing," she stated, disappearing back into the other room.

"Awful lot of security for nothing!" he yelled, followed immediately by an exaggerated sigh. The young squirrel walked away from the closest, his eyes glued to it like it had formed a mocking face. He told himself it was probably just the awards she couldn't fit anywhere or some other boring thing, but he knew that with all those locks it had to be something better, something exciting. He passed through the doorway and walked into what was obviously the kitchen, complete with an oven, table, sink, and fridge, all in the colours of blue and brown. That was, everything except the curtains over the sink, which were an odd choice of orange with green polka-dots. Slappy was standing by the table with her back to him, listening to the messages on her answering-machine. The boy paid little attention to what was being said, but could tell by his aunt's reaction that it wasn't the best of news. Unaware of his presence, the grey squirrel uttered a curse at some guy named Manny before groaning. It didn't concern him and he continued exploring, as if he was a cat that was just brought home from a shelter. The simile was a bit too accurate for Skippy's comfort and he quickly let out his own muffled curse, catching the attention of his aunt.

"Uh, sorry," she apologized, mistaking his curse as being her own fault. He didn't bother correcting her, instead turning on his heels and walking back into the living room, seeing everything of importance in the kitchen. "Would you like me to give you a tour?" she asked, a hopeful smile forming on her face as she followed behind him.

"Sure, let's start with this." Skippy stepped in front of the closest, a look of disappointment in his eyes as he already knew the answer. Still, it never hurt to keep trying, and a part of him also wanted to annoy her with his constant badgering.

"It's my explosives closet; I keep a lot my more dangerous weapons in there." She said, surprising him. Slappy laughed and rubbed the top of his head, causing him to swat her hand away in discomfort. She didn't seem to mind having her affectionate display rebuffed, only continuing to smirk. "You're stubborn, which is good. People seem to think it's a bad thing, but it's not. It's just another word for persistence, and both will get you far in life kid. Just make sure you never cross a line because it can also hold you back." She yawned and stretched, turning to look at the clock on her VCR. "Ten, what's say we head to bed, that way we can start on your training bright and early tomorrow?" Slappy walked to the front door and re-locked it, then stood at the base of the stairs and turned back to him. "Coming?"

Skippy took one last look at the closet before trudging over to her, yawning. He didn't like being so compliant but he was tired, plus he was eager to start his lessons tomorrow, wondering what it'd be like to grab a bomb from behind his back and just fling it at the nearest source of annoyance. She let him go up first, turning the lights to the downstairs off once he reached the top. "So which room is mine?" he asked, eyes moving between the three doors in the hallway. He moved away from the stairs as Slappy reached the top, waiting for her to point out which room he'd be spending the majority of the next month in. She walked to the first door on the left and opened it. Skippy looked inside and, to his confusion, found himself looking at the bathroom. "Uh, yeah, it's very nice." He looked up at her, giving a thumbs up and an intentionally see-through smile.

"Yeah, and it's also the first stop on your way to dreamland." She commented, shoving him into the room. "Your fur is so dirty that I can't tell if brown is your actual color, so hop in the shower and clean yourself up a bit, okay?" and before he could answer she closed the door, leaving him to gather his thoughts. "Towels are in the closet!" she shouted.

"Oh thanks, I never would have figured that out!" he shouted back in the heaviest sarcasm he could muster. Skippy rolled his eyes, certain that Slappy was just being melodramatic, and looked at his reflection in the mirror above the sink, horrified to find that she had a point. His fur was tangled and knotted in some places, flattened and oily in others. He cringed at the thought of brushing them all out, but knew it had to be done. Summoning all the courage he could muster, the squirrel opened the closest and pulled out a green towel and matching comb, laying them on the sink before turning on the shower. Despite his reluctance to yank a comb through his fur, the thought of a hot shower did sound enjoyable and so did the idea of getting all the grime and scum off his body. Skippy locked the door and jumped into the shower, soaking his head.

Slappy was standing in the doorway of Skippy's room when he walked out of the bathroom, his fur shining and groomed. "Hey, have you seen my nephew Skippy? He's about yay high," she held her hand at the tip of his head. "He has a big poufy tail, sharp buckteeth and a frown permanently carved into his face." Skippy looked at her, as usual still not amused. Some miracles even a hot shower couldn't work, and one of those was making his aunt humorous. "So this is your room." She said, uncomfortable with his silence. She urged him inside and gave him a small tour. "You've got a fireplace, a dresser, a nightstand, a lamp, a clean bed, warm blankets, and a nice view of the park from your window." Slappy was proud of how thoroughly she cleaned the room, finding no specks of dust or dirt anywhere. Even Skippy, in his bad mood, had to admit how nice this room looked, she was sure of it. The older squirrel turned to look at him, expecting some slight speck of amazement.

"Nice, I'm sure I'll miss it when I leave." He walked to the bed and sat down on the edge, glad to find it soft and comfy. Slappy sighed, wishing that her nephew would just focus on the here and now rather than the future. Skippy lifted the covers and scooted under them, resting his head on the pillow. He looked over to his aunt as she stood by the window, noticing the look of sadness and depression that quickly passed over her face. "Alright, I'll see you tomorrow kiddo." She said, walking to the door. The shower must have done more than just clear his mind because he had a strange feeling of guilt shoot through him, urging him to say something to her before she went to bed. Slappy had been nothing but nice, and while it may have been to ease her own guilt he could tell there was genuine concern for him.

"Uh, Slappy?" he said moments before she could close the door.

"Yeah kid?"

Thanks, for the hot meal and warm shower and comfy bed. "Never mind," he said, rolling onto his side and facing the window.

"Right, sleep tight Skippy." With that she turned off his light and closed the door, off to her own room for the night. Despite the strong urge to thank her, the resentment he held towards her was still too large to be silenced, even if it was only for a second. He sighed and started tossing and turning, trying to find a comfortable position. After a few minutes he just sat up, jumping out of the bed and walking over to the window. There were no stars out, an odd sight for the squirrel. At his old home he could see thousands of stars, all bright and shining as they surrounded the moon. That wasn't to say the view from here was all bad, far from it actually. The neon lights from the city were visible in the distance and the park had a dozen or so streetlamps traveling down its sidewalk, making a random and curving trail of yellow and orange dots. He spent a few minutes pacing back and forth in front of the window, cursing himself for the new found empathy towards Slappy. Suddenly there came a rapping at his door, no doubt his aunt. "Can I come in?" she asked from behind the door.

"Sure," he answered, ceasing his frantic pacing. Slappy opened the door and turned on the light, surprised to see him out of bed. She was wearing a pink nightgown and sleeping cap, holding something that resembled a picture frame in her hand.

"I had this on the dresser in my room and thought you might like it." She walked across the room and handed it to him. Skippy glanced from her to the photo, feeling the wind get knocked out of him when he saw his mother. "Sorry I don't have anything more recent, but it's the last photo she ever sent me." Skippy stared at the picture, tracing her outline with his finger. He hadn't realized how foggy his memory of her had become, his mind so clouded by negativity the last few days that he barely recognized her. Everything about her seemed strange, from the look in her eyes to the way she was smiling. He could feel tears forming behind his eyes and did his best to fight them, sensing that it was a losing battle. "I thought you'd like to keep it in your room and make the place a little less empty. Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow, and I do mean it this time." She rubbed his head and Skippy . . . did nothing to stop her. Slappy deserved that one, just as she deserved what followed.

"Thank you," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. The grey squirrel stiffened, clearly taken by surprise.

"Yeah, no problem Skippy," she gave him a smile that resembled the one in the picture and walked back out of the room, closing the door behind her. Skippy gulped and pressed his back against the wall, sliding to the floor. He brought the picture close to his chest and hugged it, beginning to sob as his resistance crumbled. Slappy stood outside, her ear pressed to the door as he continued. It was heartbreaking and she found her own tears were forming at the very thought of him crying. She wasn't sure how to handle this, whether she should head back in and comfort him or return to her own room and let him shed his tears in privacy. She chose the latter and trudged to her room down the hall, managing to hold back her tears.

The Squirrels didn't get much sleep that night.

A/N: The plot is getting thicker, thickity thick thick thick-er!