A/N: Worry not, dear readers, I'm not dead. Though if my workload over the past month and the stress that came with it were physical objects, I would have been crushed long ago. Anyways, I hope that this new chapter was worth the wait.
For the sole new character in this chapter…
Palaeno: 26
On the leather couch in the beach house, Franziska slept soundly while snuggled beneath a thick, red blanket that her father had found in the master bedroom's closet. Sure, it strangely reeked of bleach, but it was better than nothing. But neither the smell of the blanket nor the fact that she was foolishly sleeping on a foolish couch could change the fact that Franziska was having one of the happiest dreams of her life.
Unlike her normal 'happy' dreams, which consisted of her utterly dominating her enemies in some form of heated competition, followed by them groveling at her feet, this dream was surprisingly calm. Franziska was in a sun-drenched field that extended as far as the eye could see, giggling in delight as Edgeworth pushed her on a swing with von Karma-grade perfection- not so soft that she felt bored, but not so hard that she feared that she'd be flung off. It was just right and for once she was proud of her little brother. But soon, Franziska, as most young girls her age, desired more.
"Push me harder, Little Brother!" Franziska chirped, arching her head back to stare at her grinning adopted brother with a glimmer of joy in her eyes,
"But Franziska, if I do that, you could get hurt. And if that were to happen, I'd never be able to forgive myself." Edgeworth morosely stated, his warm, jovial expression being replaced with a furrowed brow and a concerned frown.
"Don't be such a foolishly foolish fool, Miles Edgeworth! I'm a big girl, I'll be fine!" Franziska proclaimed with a smirk.
"If you say so, Big Sister…" Edgeworth reluctantly replied as he gradually started to push the swing harder and harder with each round, causing Franziska's overall height to increase as she could see more and more of the field.
Though sure enough, after a particularly powerful push from her adopted brother, Franziska was flung off the swing, her body flipping like an acrobat as she soared high into the air past the clouds. But unfortunately, what goes up, must come down, and this dream was no different- a lesson the silver-haired girl quickly learned as she plummeted towards the ground, screaming in terror as she covered her eyes, bracing her body for the inevitable impact. But suddenly, Franziska's fall was gently halted as she landed in something soft, yet firm; and upon uncovering her eyes, the young aspiring prosecutor found herself staring up at her 'little' brother's relieved face as she laid in his strong arms.
"Are you alright, Franziska?" Edgeworth tenderly asked.
"Y-Yes…" Franziska stuttered, her cheeks reddening as she noticed just how handsome her adopted brother looked- his face was chiseled and smooth like a marble statue, his charcoal hair glistened in the sun like a knight's mighty armor, and his grey eyes exuded both the strength and serenity of a mighty mountain. Franziska then found herself nestling her head in the crook of Edgeworth's neck, hugging her 'little' brother as tightly as she could, until she was suddenly interrupted by a powerful downpour of rain which snapped her out of the dream.
Quickly sitting up as she gripped the blanket, the aspiring prosecutor found herself panting and drenched in a cold sweat.
"Curse that foolishly foolish girl, putting foolishly foolish thoughts of Miles Edgeworth in my head…!" Franziska snarled. "Why, if I ever see her again, I'll- Wait, why do my pants feel wet? The silver-haired girl asked herself as she reluctantly lifted up the blanket to find out.
Meanwhile, Manfred was having his own sleeping issues since his covers were being used to cover up the lewd Blaise/David painting opposite the bed, leaving him cold on the red satin sheets, which felt as slippery as the personality of the man who bought them. But the unfavorable conditions of the room were the least of the veteran prosecutor's worries when compared to the dream he was having.
This dream, which Manfred had had many times over, consisted of him sitting in a posh armchair in the elegant sitting room of his Dresden mansion, the stern faces of his forefathers, perfect prosecutors in their own right whose portraits lined the room's walls, were watching him. But Manfred didn't pay any mind to their furrowed brows and stoic expressions, instead focusing on the baby Franziska in his arms who was swaddled from head-to-toe in a teal cloth, with the only exposed part of her body being her mouth.
"Franziska, you may be too young to realize this, but you are my last hope… the last chance that I have to ensure the perfection that I and our ancestors have worked so hard to maintain lives on in the next generation." Manfred morosely stated, the heavy look of worry in his eyes the direct antithesis to his youngest daughter's innocent, smiling face. "Foolish girl, that smile would fade upon knowing the sheer weight of your destiny… But just promise me this, Franziska… Promise me that you will never stop striving for protection.
"Papa!" The infant chirped, as if to affirm her father's promise.
"So you'll fulfil your papa's wish, Franziska?" Manfred asked with a tone of restrained excitement.
"Yes. But first, I have a question for you…"
"What do you wish to know, girl?"
"Where's the body, von Karma?" Franziska sternly asked in Gregory Edgeworth's voice, the cloth once covering her face having been removed to reveal the stern visage of the deceased defense attorney.
"No! You're not supposed to be here! I killed you!" Manfred screamed, wincing back as terror filled his eyes.
"You can't kill the truth, von Karma. Now where's the body? I know that it was hidden!"
"You have no evidence of that, Edgeworth! I presented an autopsy report, remember?" Manfred retorted.
"As well as a forced confession, which you received a penalty for." Gregory sneered as his baby arm burst forth from the swaddle and aimed a pistol at his murderer. "…In addition to THIS!"
"Uuaaaaaaaargh!" Manfred roared in pain as Gregory shot his right shoulder again, causing the veteran prosecutor to drop the infant-version of his arch nemesis.
Normally, the nightmare would end at this point, but tonight was different… Instead of waking up, Manfred saw, much to his horror, Baby Gregory morphing into a towering, colossal, nude version of Blaise with the enhanced genitalia present in the beach house's paintings.
"Time to go to the beach, von Karma!" Blaise sneered in a booming voice as a giant child's shovel appeared in his hand.
"No! Never!" Manfred screamed, running away just in time to narrowly avoid being crushed by a Chief Prosecutor's weapon.
As Manfred fled from the area, the setting changed from the Dresden mansion to the beach as the veteran Prosecutor weaved back and forth to dodge Blaise's attempts to crush him beneath his mighty shovel. Noticing that he was getting nowhere, the gargantuan Chief Prosecutor snapped his fingers, causing an enormous glass of sprite to appear in his hand.
"Thirsty, von Karma?" Blaise sneered as he spilled the soda from the glass, flooding the area with the sticky, refreshing concoction of lemon and lime as Manfred floundered about to remain afloat.
Thankfully for the veteran prosecutor, he was able to climb atop a large ice cube that was floating by, thus providing him relief from the sea of soda, but not from the giant version of his boss and childhood friend who was out for his blood.
"What have I ever done to deserve this?! My only crime is being the perfect prosecutor!" Manfred yelled.
"Exactly, von Karma, which is why you need to learn your place, y'see?"
"What is that supposed to mean? Answer!" Manfred snarled.
"Y-Y'know, that's not very nice, von Karma…" Blaise whimpered as he tugged on his fake beard. "Maybe a little game will lighten your mood…" The chief prosecutor sneered as a large, flaming baseball formed in his hand. "Batter up!"
Blaise threw the baseball with tremendous power at the miniscule prosecutor before him, far too fast for Manfred to dodge out of the way from, so the veteran prosecutor just stood there, completely motionless and gripping his wounded shoulder as a feeling of terror and despair washed over his entire being.
However, before Manfred could be crushed, burned, or a combination of the two, he was suddenly whisked off the block of ice by some unknown force and found himself high above the sky in a red sleigh pulled by nine reindeer.
"Could it be…?" Manfred asked with a mixture of relief and amazement as he observed his savior's mode of transportation. "Santa, is it truly you?" The veteran prosecutor looked over to his left and noticed the rotund figure of Santa Claus, who had his back turned towards him.
"Ho ho ho! Indeed, Manfred, it is I, Santa Claus, and you need not fear Blaise while I'm around!" Santa jovially proclaimed.
"Oh, Santa!" Manfred jovially shouted as he uncharacteristically gave St. Nick a hug. "How can I ever repay you for this act of kindness?"
"Ho ho ho! Think nothing of it, Manfred. What kind of person would I be if I left the nicest man in the Prosecutor's Office to die? But do you mind doing me a little favor as a friend?"
"Anything for you, Santa. Just name it and I shall do it!" Manfred proclaimed with a childlike sense of wonder in his eyes.
"Kiss my putter, Manny." Santa commanded in Gant's voice, turning to Manfred to reveal the detective's infamous stare as he held up his putter from the putt-putt game earlier that evening.
"No, no…!" Manfred shrieked as he winced back in shock, accidentally falling out of the sleigh in the process. "Noooooooooo!" The veteran prosecutor screamed as plummeted towards the sea of soda.
At that moment, Manfred woke up from his nightmare… face up on the bedroom's hardwood floor.
"Ugh, my aching back…" Manfred groaned as he picked himself up off of the ground, leaning against the bed as he regained his composure. "At least it was only a nightmare… an awful, unspeakable nightmare, but a mere dream nonetheless. It meant nothing and shall not get in the way of me returning triumphantly to the Prosecutor's Office fully rested." The veteran prosecutor stated as he got in the bed.
However, before Manfred could drift back to sleep…
"Papa! Papa! I require assistance! It's an emergency!" Franziska shrieked, pounding on the bedroom's closed door as if she was being brutally murdered.
"Franziska, for the final time, there are no defense attorneys hiding in the coat closet. Now go to sleep." Manfred growled as he shot a death glare at the door.
"It's not that, Papa! It's worse!"
"What on Santa's green earth could possibly be worse than your irrational fear of defense attorneys?"
Manfred's question was answered as Franziska burst into the room, turning on the lights to reveal that the teal pants of her pajamas were drenched with blood.
"Help me, Papa! I'm bleeding!" Franziska wailed, gesturing to her bottom half.
"What the… What is this?!" Manfred shouted, gripping his right shoulder as his eyes bugged out. Of course, the veteran prosecutor knew what was happening with his youngest daughter- after all, he was married at one point- but he just couldn't believe that even nature itself was determined to make this beach trip the second-worst experience of his life.
"I-I don't know, Papa." Franziska whimpered with tear-filled eyes. "I- I was just sleeping, and- and I had this really nice dream… but, but then… I-I woke up, and… and found THIS!" The young girl gestured once more to her lower half. "What's happening to me, Papa? Did a foolish defense attorney put some kind of foolish curse on me? Am I going to die!?"
"No, you aren't going to die, Franziska. This is a perfectly natural occurrence that begins for girls around your age. Your body is merely going through some changes." Manfred calmly stated with crossed arms.
"R-Really?" Franziska sniffled, trying her best to hold back her tears.
"Yes. I've witnessed it in your sister, as well as your mother before she… Look, all you need to know is that you're perfectly fine." Manfred wisely avoided reminding Franziska of her mother's untimely death four years prior, because the last thing he needed was for anything to make his maturing daughter more emotionally charged.
"Why is this happening to me, Papa?" Franziska innocently asked, causing Manfred to flinch.
First the phallic portrait of Blaise, then Melons, and now the topic of menstruation? It was official: the universe and everything in it was officially against Manfred, some great cosmic imbalance created by his life having joy that had to be corrected with this accursed trip. Either that, or Gregory Edgeworth just became his guardian demon whose sole purpose was to make the veteran prosecutor's life as unpleasant as humanly possible as retribution for his untimely death and was doing an excellent job at it. But Manfred wasn't about to let the universe or Greggory have the satisfaction of beating him, so he pulled out the trump card in the deck of how to handle awkward discussions as a father.
"I'll tell you later, Franziska."
"But-"
"That topic is not a pressing matter at the moment, Franziska, dealing with the current situation is. Now, please tell me that you didn't get blood on Chief Prosecutor Debeste's couch." Manfred asked with a tone of apprehension, not because he held any contempt towards his young daughter- it wasn't like she could decide when her body would mature- but because he was legitimately terrified of how Blaise would react.
After all, this was the man who set up a grand scheme to get him a penalty just for calling his attire unfashionable, so Manfred could hardly even begin to imagine the horrors that Blaise would inflict upon him for what had transpired on this trip. Sure, he could expect to receive something along the lines of a massive pay cut, his Los Angeles mansion being bombarded with Molotov cocktails, having to babysit Sebastian day and night for an entire week, or a combination of the three solely for giving away the beach house to some seedy carney, but this… If Blaise found out that he lost his beach house, in addition to a couch that he probably spent more money on than his own son being forever ruined via stains created by blood secreted from Franziska's… 'special place', it would probably drive him over the edge and cause him to literally drive a car through Manfred's mansion, turn it around, and drive it through the mansion again before throwing Sebastian out on the porch, leaving the little nimrod in the veteran prosecutor's permanent care.
"Unfortunately, Papa, I… a big bloodstain formed where I was lying down. I'm really, really sorry." Franziska sullenly stated, her eyes aimed at the ground in shame.
"Apologizing isn't going to fix this, Franziska. Clean up that stain as quickly as you can while I make a phone call."
"Yes, Papa." Franziska said with a curtsey before leaving, only to return mere seconds after. "Papa, should I wake Miles Edgeworth and have him help me?"
"Franziska, both you and Miles have flights tomorrow morning and I am determined to prevent at least one of my wards from sullying my perfect reputation by sleeping on a plane like some filthy vagabond. Plus, you know how sound a sleeper that boy is at this time."
At that moment, Edgeworth could be heard screaming in his sleep from down the hall.
"Get away…! Get away from my father!"
"See? He's sleeping like a log. Now quit dillydallying and clean that couch."
This time, Franziska followed Manfred's orders and ran downstairs to the living room as the veteran prosecutor took his cellphone from the nearby nightstand and called the one person who he thought he'd never need help from, a person who filled him with shame and regret every time they met, a person who made him slightly understand how Blaise could hate his own son so much: his eldest daughter, Gilberta von Karma.
"Papa…?" The young woman asked with a tone of shock and confusion, as if this was merely some strange dream.
"You sound surprised, Gilberta. Don't you recognize my number?"
"Yes, but seeing it on my caller id is like a Big Foot sighting- you hear about it in whispers, yet you never see it in person."
Ok, I know that I haven't been the most active when it comes to calling you…"
"Congratulations, Papa, you've just won the award for greatest understatement of the century! Bravo to you!" Gilberta sneered as the sound of a slow, condescending clap could be heard in the background.
Of all the traits that girl had to inherit from her mother… "Don't you use that tone with me, girl! It is quite difficult to carve out time for small talk when you have to maintain a perfect prosecution record, as well as raise two children alone." Manfred growled.
"Then maybe you should of thought about that before killing Mama."
"I did not kill your mother, she died when she accidentally fell down the stairs, and I have the autopsy report to prove it."
"And I suppose that she fell on five knives on the way down, yes?" Gilberta bitterly asked.
"Those stab wounds were postmortem, Gilberta, postmortem!" Manfred snarled, once again reminded of one of the many, many reasons why he and his eldest daughter only talked during holidays and funerals, and even then with barely a sentence between them.
"Right…" Gilberta replied, her disbelief so evident that her father could hear her eyes rolling. "So why are you calling, Papa?"
"Can't a man just want to talk with his eldest daughter?"
"Since when have you ever wanted to merely talk with anyone, let alone me? I may not be some super prosecuting prodigy like Miles or Franziska, but I'm not stupid. I know that you would never talk to me unless your life was hanging in the balance, and even then you'd contemplate continuing to actively avoid me."
"Don't be ridiculous, girl. I do not actively avoid you."
"Ha!" Gilberta sneered. "I'm a senior in college and you've only called me twice since I left home. I've had people who I've only known for a week call me double that amount in the course of a single day."
"Can you blame me? You're majoring in marketing, for Santa's sake! What kind of imperfect life do you plan on living?"
"A life where I'm not ruled under your iron, meglomanic fist. Now, if you're not going to tell me why you're really calling, I'm going to get back to the three research papers that I've been laboring over for the past month."
"Fine, it's Franziska, she's-"
"Of course it's Franziska! Why am I not surprised?" Gilberta venomously asked.
"Why must you always be so hostile towards your sister?"
"Hmm, let's see…" Gilberta responded, pausing as she pretended to think up a reason that had actually been at the forefront of her mind for a moment such as this. "Could it be the fact that you love her more than you love me?"
"Objection! I love both you girls and Miles equally." Though I hate Miles much more.
"Riiight, sure you do, Papa…"
"You dare doubt me?" Manfred asked in a low, foreboding tone.
"Don't be silly, Papa, I would never doubt you on this matter… because to doubt means to be unsure in any way, shape, or form, and I, for one, know with absolute certainty that you love that mini-me diva more than me!"
"Don't be so overdramatic, Gilberta. Name one time I favored Franziska over you."
"Ok, I'll compare how we each celebrated our fifth birthdays. For hers, Franziska had a nice dinner, live music from a professional cellist, a black forest cake for desert, and got a brand new outfit, complete with shoes and gloves. But what did you do for mine…?"
"Quite your whining, you unappreciative child. I did plenty for your fifth birthday."
"Yes, Papa, because as we all know, giving your eldest child a muffin from the Prosecutor's Office for her meal and a hole punch for a present is the epitome of birthday time joy." Gilberta wryly retorted. "What five-year-old wants a hole punch for their birthday? What were you expecting me to do with it?"
"I was hoping that as a von Karma, you would use it to help you organize files- something that Franziska was able to do perfectly when she was that age."
"And don't even get me started on our wardrobes. Sure, you've always had the deranged need for us to wear only a single outfit for both casual and formal occasions, but they were never equally bad. Franziska always got a sleek, sleeveless shirt and matching skirt, giving her a stylish, elegant look, while I had to wear some Laura Ingalls-style dress that made me look like some prairie hick midwife with a Dr. Evil color scheme!"
"Ok, I get it, you dislike your younger sister…" Manfred groaned as he put a hand to his forehead. "But if you're going to be so emotional, I might as well end the call here."
"No, Papa, now I'm curious. Just what exactly is wrong with the little princess?"
"Franziska just started menstruating, it's too late to call her pediatrician, and I don't know what females do to get through their… 'special time'."
"Wow, Papa, I don't know whether to feel sorry for you or laugh." Gilberta sneered. "I mean, how many formerly-married men with two daughters can be so clueless on this subject?"
"What do you expect? Your mother more or less locked herself away during her time of the month and she was in charge of dealing with yours. This is an entirely unprecedented experience for me."
"Well, have you tried looking up information on the internet? Sure, your outfit may be older than dirt, but I'm sure you've used a computer before."
"Gilberta, you know fully well that the internet is where slack-jawed, braindead fools go to post whatever foolish nonsense comes out of their mouths- hardly befitting of our family. So tell me what I need to do to get Franziska through this arduous time without much hassle."
"Ok, Papa, if you say so…" Gilberta responded with a hint of mischievous glee in her voice. "First things first, buy menstrual pads, and lots of them. If you don't, any room Franziska sits down in will turn into a crime scene. Next-"
"Wait, I have to write this down." Manfred curtly stated as he went over to his pants, which were neatly folded in his suitcase, and took out a pen and notepad to write down his daughter's advice. "Go on."
"Now, don't give her anything unhealthy. Franziska is going to begging for junk food- chips, chocolate, soda- at one point or another, but do not, and I repeat do not, give in and let her have any! Giving a girl on her period any kind of unhealthy food is like feeding a gremlin after midnight- sure, it looks cute at first and you get a warm, fuzzy feeling, but a few seconds later you're face-to-face with a monster that will make your life a living hell. And for that matter, if she starts complaining about stomach cramps, do not give her any medicine. Those stomach cramps are there for your protection- you get rid of those, and Franziska will not hesitate to rip your face off like a deranged helper monkey."
"Right..." Manfred replied as he finished recording this final bit of information. "Thank you for the information, Gilberta. Perhaps there's still hope for you to be a mediocre von Karma yet."
"Don't mention it, Papa. Just follow my advice to a T and this 'special' time won't be so bad." It'll be much, much worse… "Bye, Papa."
"Goodbye, Gilberta." Manfred stated as he ended the call. "Now, to see how Franziska is doing with that couch."
When Manfred entered the living room, he was greeted to the sight of a large pool of water forming on the living room floor around a bucket flipped on its side; and near the center of it stood Franziska, bent over and sobbing as she tried her best to rub out the crimson stain on the couch with a rag, but to no avail.
"Franziska, what is…this!?" Manfred roared, gesturing to the waterlogged area, prompting Franziska to turn around and face him with tear-filled, bloodshot eyes.
"I'm sorry, Papa! I-I-I'm sorry! I tried to rub out the blood with this rag, but it wouldn't come out! And… And then I turned around and foolishly knocked over the bucket, causing the water to spill out everywhere!" The young girl wailed as she ran over to her father and gave him a hug- something that had never before happened in the von Karma household, causing Manfred to stiffen like a board. "I'm sorry that I'm such a foolish failure, Papa!"
Even though Franziska was going through the tribulations of becoming a woman, Manfred didn't care about that kind of nonsense. He had a bullet lodged in shoulder for the past seven years, yet he didn't complain. He was the perfect prosecutor and would not let such menial trivialities such as pain and emotions get to him. Manfred felt that if he could do it, there was no excuse that his family couldn't either and would not stand for their grumbling. Essentially, Manfred von Karma was the last person any woman would want near them during their time of the month because he would give them as much comfort and support as he would a defense attorney, that is to say none. So suffice to say, it wouldn't come as a surprise to anyone that Manfred's late wife would give him the nickname 'Dr. Do-so-little' when her monthly visitor came knocking- a nickname the veteran prosecutor didn't mind as long as she wasn't too emotional.
"As you should be. I don't care if your body is going through changes that I'd rather not talk about; I expect more grace from someone of von Karma lineage. I swear, if I didn't lose my coat, and by extension my stun gun, you would be on the receiving end of it for your utter incompetence."
"What do you expect? I'm a nine-year-old girl who feels bloated and has stomach cramps! And it doesn't help that you're always foolishly making me anxious because of your unrealistic standards! I mean, do you foolishly expect me to know how to clean anything when I've spent my entire life in a house filled with perfectly capable servants? That's like me telling you to do the laundry and yelling at you for shrinking all the clothes! Bad Papa!" Franziska yelled as she lashed her father with her riding crop.
"Did… Did you just hit me with your riding crop?" Manfred growled, unable to believe that his normally obedient, albeit emotionally charged, daughter actually struck him like some filthy street peasant.
"Yes, because you were acting foolish!" Franziska snapped as she bent her riding crop before breaking down into tears again. "I'm sorry, Papa! I'm… I'm just upset because I can't clean the couch!" The silver-haired girl's mood changed yet again, this time from crying her eyes out to an excited grin. "But now that you're here, Papa, I know that we can get this couch cleaned in no time! After all, you're the perfect prosecutor and papa! Come on!"
"O-Ok…" Manfred replied as he hesitantly trudged through the water to the couch. Sure, he was not one to normally feel anxiety, but Franziska just went through three different emotions in the course of about 30 seconds and the veteran prosecutor was legitimately fearful for his life.
Upon reaching the couch, Manfred proceeded to take a good, long look at the smeared bloodstain in order to get an idea of what he was dealing with… and what he was dealing with was the impossible.
"So, Papa, can you remove that stain?"
"Alas, Franziska, this is beyond even my perfection… which is why we aren't going to clean it."
"But won't Unky Boo Boo be mad about it?" Franziska asked, cocking her head to the side in confusion.
"Not if he doesn't see it." Manfred said with a sinister grin, proud of himself for the idea that had just popped into his mind.
"What do you mean, Papa?"
"If we merely flip the cushion over, Chief Prosecutor Debeste won't know-" Manfred stopped midsentence as he flipped over the cushion to discover an even larger dried bloodstain on the other side. "Seriously, Debeste?" The veteran prosecutor rhetorically asked, glaring daggers at the cushion as if that would magically make it pristine.
"That's a lot of blood. Did Unky Boo Boo's body start changing, too?" Franziska innocently asked.
"No, Franziska. What you're going through only occurs in women." Though since this is Debeste we're talking about, that blood could have very well come from a woman, knowing what constitutes that lunatic's sick version of a one-night stand.
"That's so foolish!" Franziska snarled as she bent her riding crop. "So you're saying that I'm bleeding from below the waste, as well as feeling hot and bloated, while men don't have to?"
"Yes."
"Well, that's no fair!" Franziska pouted with a stomp of her foot.
"You want to talk about fair? I'm a perfect prosecutor whose only crime is doing his job properly, yet I was forced to take a daytrip and experience the second-worst day of my life. I have been physically assaulted, robbed of my clothes, and had to kiss the filthy putter of a foolishly happy-go-lucky detective that doesn't know when to leave me alone. So you have no room to talk about fair, girl. Now get dressed, we're leaving in ten minutes to get you supplies at a pharmacy."
"But Papa, I'm feeling faaat! I don't want people to see me like this!" Franziska whined.
"You are not fat, Franziska. You look as healthy as always." Manfred groaned as horrible memories of his late wife having similar concerns came rushing back, causing his daughter to burst into tears. "What now?"
"You think I'm fat! You've always thought that I was fat and you've foolishly never told me!" Franziska roared, her face becoming noticeably red.
"Don't be ridiculous, girl. If you've been following the eating and exercise regiments that I've set in motion for you, your body should be perfect."
"Yeah, perfectly fat! I hate you Papa…!" Franziska wailed as tears streamed down her cheeks. "And I want chips, and candy, and ibuprofen for my aching stomach!"
"You are not having any of the sort, Franziska. The last thing you need in your current state is sugar."
"Because I'm such a foolishly fat pig, right? Is that it, Papa!? Am I a foolishly fat fool who disappoints you?!" The silver-haired girl snarled as she bent her riding crop, prompting Manfred to take a step back out of fear of his daughter.
Sure, Franziska was only nine-years-old, but at the moment she was far worse than his late wife or Gilberta ever were during their times of the month. At worst, they would spout a few angry, sarcastic comments and lock themselves away for extended times, but they would never actually threaten, or actually use, violence on him. So with that in mind, Manfred had to change up his strategy and employ a method that he was never too fond of using: trickery.
"No, Franziska, you are far from a disappointment. I merely advise against you indulging in sugary confections so that you can maintain your perfect body." Manfred stated, patting the air with his hand as a safer substitution for patting his emotionally charged daughter's shoulder.
"Oh… Well, I still want sugar, and something to help with these cramps I'm dealing with." Franziska replied, though much more calmly than before, as she lightly gripped abdomen, much to her father's relief.
"Ok, but in order for me to do that, I have to go out to a pharmacy, but I can't leave you here alone in your current state. So I need you to get dressed and come with me in about ten minutes after we clean up this water. Can you do that for me?"
"Yes, Papa. But how are we going to get to the pharmacy since your car was stolen at the boardwalk? Is Detective Damon Gant going to drive us there?"
Manfred could already imagine the horrors that outing would yield. Gant would spend the entire car ride explaining the birds and the bees to Franziska by describing several cases of date rape he had handled over the years. Then, once they arrived at the pharmacy, the driftwood detective would spend a good half-hour looking a pool toys, wondering if he should buy an inflatable crocodile or a smiling whale that he'd name 'Baby Beluga'. And so, if the veteran prosecutor had any say in plans for that night, he would make it his primary goal to keep Gant as far away from him and Franziska as humanly possible.
"No, Detective Gant would only serve to slow us down. That's why I'm going to be calling a taxi for the purpose of driving us there, and then driving us back here when we've gotten what we need."
"That's a perfect idea, Papa!" Franziska chirped.
"Of course it is, girl. I came up with it." Manfred smirked. Or at least it should be.
After taking the time to mop up the water in the living room and get dressed, though for shoes, the veteran prosecutor had to settle to wearing a pair of galoshes in Blaise's closet, as well as making sure to grab his emergency credit card and $50, Manfred and Franziska made their way out of the beach house- the young girl leading the way as her father locked up the front door- and made their way to the yellow taxicab parked at the end of the driveway.
During his time as a prosecutor, Manfred had heard about many horrible crimes involving cab drivers- kidnapping passengers and holding them for ransom, outright stabbing them, etc.- but in his current state, Manfred would have rather taken his chances with the crazed, Satanist cabby from Ghost Dad than spend another minute of this wretched day with Gant. But unfortunately for the veteran prosecutor, little did he realize he would be indeed experience a hellish cab ride.
Upon getting in the back of the vehicle with Franziska, Manfred quickly noticed that the driver was not your typical cabby. For unlike most drivers who had a gruff, hardened look to them, his was soft- smoothly shaven face, shoulder-length, thick blond hair as golden as the sun, and a smile even brighter, making him resemble a character from a fairytale. Adding to this image was his outfit, a white dress shirt beneath a sleeveless green-plaid sweater and a teal bowtie, making him resemble some kind of forest elf one would find in a Lord of the Rings novel.
"Hello, my name is Colias Palaeno, and I'll be your cab driver for this evening." The man stated in a tone so sickeningly upbeat that Manfred couldn't help but roll his eyes- a gesture that went completely unnoticed by the driver. "So, what are your names and where am I taking you?"
"That is none of your concern, driver. All you need to know is that we desire to be taken to the nearest pharmacy." Manfred stated with crossed arms.
"Say no more!" Palaeno cheerfully proclaimed as he began driving down the road away from the beach house. "So, are you good with any pharmacy, or is there a particular chain you prefer?"
"As long as it's a pharmacy, the store doesn't matter."
"Alright! …So, nice weather tonight, isn't it?" The blond man asked, maintaining his Cheshire cat-like grin.
"Yes." Manfred curtly responded, knowing after many long years of being irritated by Gant that a person asking about the weather meant only one thing: they wanted to talk, and the last thing that the veteran prosecutor needed was to talk to some unsettlingly happy cabby that he had just met.
But unfortunately for Manfred, despite his best attempt at snuffing out the spark of conversation, Palaeno didn't need anyone to start a conversation.
"So, want to know anything about me?" The blond cabby asked, oblivious to the fact that veteran prosecutor was giving him a glare that reeked of refusal.
"No." Manfred growled, looking over to his right to see Franziska leaning against the door and groaning with her eyes closed, leaving him to deal with this foolishly upbeat man alone.
"Don't be shy, I'm more than happy to tell you all about myself!" Palaeno beamed. "I graduated from the University of Cohdopia with a degree in political science in the hopes of becoming the greatest ambassador in Cohdopian history. However, if I am to have any hope in achieving that dream, I need to first understand the cultures of all the major world powers. That is why I have been traveling the globe, living in different countries for months at a time while working in their service industries- a waiter in a Parisian café, a fishmonger in Shanghai, an operator of an Amsterdam brothel... And I have to say, I have thoroughly enjoyed all of the countries I've stayed in! They're all so fascinating and pleasant in their own unique ways, filled to the brim with kind people who are so enjoyable to be around, and my time in your nation has been no exception!"
"I am currently a German citizen." Manfred curtly pointed out, hopping that would perhaps stop the enthusiastic cabby from going on a pro-American lecture that would put Blaise's jingoism to shame.
"Don't worry, I'm not a citizen here either, but that hasn't stopped me from enjoying all that this country has to offer! And let me tell you, this country has something to offer around every corner! Everything is just so big- the large portions, the sodas with lots of ice, the complaints, the rampant childhood obesity, and the girls with big, bouncy tatas and trunks that contain a lot of junk, to name a few! The only small things I've seen here are the skirts on said bouncy girls and the patience of the drivers. Let me tell you, we don't have anything like that back in Cohdopia! And don't get me started on your units of measurement! It's just so exotic how the people have so vehemently refused the convenience of metric system for so long! Now, I know most foreigners give Americans a hard time over it, but not me! So when the icecaps melt and we need another Ark, I'm coming to the U.S.A, because while the rest of the world is busy converting measurements from cubits to meters, you'll be hoisting anchor!"
"In which case, I know who'll be the third person I throw overboard." Manfred wryly commented. On second thought, scratch that. Knowing Gant, he'll probably be swimming alongside the ship and cackling like some obnoxious dolphin. Therefore, this infuriating driver will be the second person I'll throw into the ocean, right after Debeste.
"Well, isn't that nice!" Palaeno mirthfully expressed. "You know what, Mr. Mozart-man, I like you, I really do, and I have the feeling that you and I can be good friends! Do you feel the same way?"
"That depends, in Cohdopia, does the term 'friend' refer to someone you want to punch in the face?" Manfred venomously asked.
"You're so silly!" Palaeno said with a wave of his hand. "To celebrate our newfound friendship, I'm going to sing America's moving national anthem- a song which perfectly describes the action-packed, headstrong tendencies of the people in this country."
"How is Francis Scott Key's Star Spangled Banner in any way 'headstrong'?"
"Francis Scott Key? Who's that?" Palaeno asked, cocking his head to the side in confusion as a small frown formed on his face.
"The man who wrote The Star Spangled Banner, the United States' national anthem. How could you sing this nations' anthem if- No…" Manfred groaned as his eyes started to widen, a feeling of dread filling his being.
"America…" Palaeno sang, his smile returning.
"No, not that song, anything but that song!" Manfred snapped, knowing the lyrics the overexcited cabby was starting to sing from one too many outings with Blaise.
"America…" Palaeno repeated.
"I swear, if you continue with that vexatious song, I am jumping out of this vehicle!" Manfred snarled, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the cab's door handle with every bit of his strength.
But unfortunately for the veteran prosecutor, his threats fell on deaf ears as the blond cabby proceeded to sing the lyrics to the song America, F*** Yeah.
America, FUDGE YEAH!
Coming again to save the mother fudging day yeah!
America, FUDGE YEAH!
Freedom is the only way yeah!
Terrorists your game is through, because now you have to answer to…
America, FUDGE YEAH!
So please kiss my butt and shake my hand now!
America, FUDGE YEAH!
What will you do when we come for you now?
It's the dream that we all share… It's the hope for tomorrow! FUDGE YEAH!
"I can't take it anymore!" Manfred roared as he tried to open the door, fully prepared to roll out of the moving vehicle with Franziska in tow, but unfortunately for him, Palaeno had different plans when he engaged the child safety locks as he continued singing.
Child safety locks, fudge yeah!
Big Willy's, fudge yeah!
Lordly Tailor, fudge yeah!
Swiss Rolls, fudge yeah!
The NFL, fudge yeah!
Hard rock, fudge yeah!
The internet, fudge yeah!
Pornography, fudge yeah!
FUDGE YEAH…!
With each phrase sung, Manfred banged his head against the headrest of the passenger's seat up front- an act which went completely unnoticed as Palaeno continued to sing the song.
Tashtegos, fudge yeah!
Disney World, fudge yeah!
Snackoos, fudge yeah!
Viagra, fudge yeah!
PIPE shoes, fudge yeah!
Fake breasts, fudge yeah!
Fortune cookies, fudge yeah!
Burger Barn, fudge yeah!
Rodeos, fudge yeah!
Philosophy, fudge yeah!
Liberty, fudge yeah!
Pizza, fudge yeah!
Coupons, fudge yeah!
Band-Aids, fudge yeah!
Las Vegas, fudge yeah!
Christmas, fudge yeah!
Hot dogs, fudge yeah!
Popeye, fudge yeah!
Yosemite Sam, fudge yeah!
Propane, fudge yeah!
Black Friday, fudge yeah!
Pocket sand, fudge yeah!
Books…
"So, did I do well?" Palaeno asked upon finishing the song, as if Manfred's glare and gritted teeth weren't enough of an answer.
"You are an affront to music, as well as humanity as a whole." Manfred growled as he grabbed his aching forehead.
"Aw, I'm sorry about that." Palaeno glumly replied with a sullen expression. "Was it because I censored the verses? Because I only did that since I'm not very comfortable with cursing- my dear mama would bring out the coat hanger if she heard me using such foul language- and I in no way meant to offend by altering such powerful lyrics. So to make it up to you, I'm going to sing the song over and over again, each progressing round having more gusto than the last, until we reach your destination!" The blond cabby replied with his usual grin.
"Please don't." Manfred said with crossed arms as he squeezed his right bicep.
"Pshaw!" Palaeno said with a wave of his hand. "It'll be fun! If you just get into the spirit of the song, I promise that the time will go by in the blink of an eye!"
As the enthusiastic cabby who could give a clown hopped up on Prozac in Disney World a run for his money began singing again, Manfred look over to Franziska and slowly reached over to her in the hopes of stealing away her riding crop and using it to silence the buffoon driver the hard way. But alas, despite the immense pain the silver-haired girl was experiencing as she tried to fall asleep, her crossed arm grip on her riding crop could not be broken. So for the rest of the trip, Manfred got to hear verse after verse of that accursed song, the phrase 'Fudge yeah!' being forever imprinted upon his psyche.