Chapter Five: The Best

With resurfaced exuberance of forgotten youth, Moreau had begun to give the young woman a tour of the foursquare wooden residence. Although the cabin only entailed two rooms and an adjacent short hallway, the remaining two lanterns had been lit; Moreau wanted to make sure not to miss out on anything. Joy mentioned when she first arrived, she had fallen right to sleep by the hearth. Thus, Moreau was excited to know that she would be basically seeing everything for the first time.

However, besides his burlap sack tucked under the couch, there was one other item that he ignored to indicate to his newfound lodger... All the same, Moreau was still relieved that it was nearby. Whenever he felt another pang of incoming nausea, he was able to reach for a tin pail that was tucked away by the sofa, in case he was unable to go outside.

But if there was an unfortunate accident, the heavily hunched fish-man managed to move his bowed legs and blot the mess with towels by using his feet. The former Reservoir keeper was never provided cleaning supplies. That had not mattered, for he hadn't the motivation to tidy up. He would've just vomited where he was and let the regurgitated bile drip amid the water-warped, splintering planks.

But now, things were so much different. Not only did he have a luxurious lodge to be proud of, but he also had someone else to show it off to!

"Next to the front door is the coatrack," declared Moreau, pointing to the aforementioned wooden pole. "It, it has hooks to hang up your coat!"

Following close behind the arched tour guide, Joy tapped her small bottom lip while telling herself to remember the importance of his words. He gestured to his stitched trench-coat and then to her outerwear. With a happy bob of the head, Joy removed her sunny-yellow coat and stood in front of the very tall, carved pole. And with a hop, she achieved getting the hood to latch onto one of the second hangers.

After smoothing down her ocean-blue sweater, Joy made another nod and Moreau recommenced his guiding.

"This is a rocking chair to rock in! I don't sit in it because it hurts my back. But, but you can use it anytime you want!"

The woman ambled to the sloping chair and gave it a gentle shove, smiling broadly as the wooden furniture swayed perpendicularly. She would truly like to try it but didn't want Moreau feeling left out. Maybe they could just push it together to see how fast they could make the funny legs swing.

"Next to the rug and fireplace and uh... seafoam is a short table with a lamp and matches to light it!" stated the frivolous fish-man. "And there's my comfy couch that's soft and comfy!"

Joy stroked the long and smooth coffee table and sidestepped to the left. She partially turned to her expecting guide.

"May I, Moreau?"

Moreau nodded readily. "Yes, yes, you may, Joy!"

Joy sat next to the other brown cushion with the groove of the fabric sofa and wiggled her elevated sneakers.

"It's very soft and comfy!"

"He-hee! I told you!" Moreau began to waddle forward, waving her on. "Follow, please, please! There's more to see!"

With a soft grunt, the woman returned to her feet and shadowed Moreau until they reached what was considered the sleeping quarters of the shared living space.

From right to left, the fish-man eagerly continued to point out all of the basic elements of the area while elucidating what they were and what they were for. In the right corner, he disclosed the white ceiling curtains and an elliptical-shaped, big basin behind them. Regardless of not bathing in it once since taking residence, he was still proud of the fact that he finally owned a washroom.

By the middle of the wall, Moreau addressed a ligneous, large dresser, sporting a glowing lantern, then to a nearby closet. After Joy canted her head from the peculiar bathtub, she drew the curtains and admired the directed furniture and closed storage space. However, she didn't inspect them as she reminded herself that it'd be impolite to snoop into someone else's clothing.

Joy took a pace back and craned her nose to the slanted ceiling, instigating the fish-man's pupils to rise as well.

"Moreau? How come dare aren't any lightbulbs?"

"Oh..." Her guide's smile fell a tad but remained jovial. "There's no sparkles so I use lamps."

Joy looked at him, tilting her head. "Sparkles?"

"Sparks that make things light up and work... Uhhh... eleak... electy..."

"Electricity?" the woman softly interjected.

The fish-man made a short bow and his smile rose higher. "Yes... Tricky word."

Joy beamed with a squeak. "Thank you!"

Next, Moreau showed her the twin bed. Even if she had introduced herself to it earlier, he thought she may have just seen it from underneath. Moreau wanted to give a full completed tour; to be the best at something...

At least, for once in his sub-existence.

When the fish-man's right index finger was lifted near the light timber headboard, the young woman raked the dresser again.

"So, if ya don't have electricity, dat means ya don't got a TV?"

"T...V?" Moreau drawled.

"Ta watch movies and shows."

"Oohh," he said with sad realization. "You mean a video box."

"Uh-huh."

"No... S-sorry..."

Joy saw the fish-man's large face becoming heavier and she patted his cockeyed shoulder. That tender touch alone appeared to quickly lighten his demeanor on the spot.

"It's alright, Moreau," she said with gentle assurance. "Sorry, I was just curious. Sometimes I can be such a nosey posey. ...Dare's lots'a other stuff ta do instead'a watching TV all day."

With the return of elevated lips, Moreau bobbed his head in agreement. Despite that, he used to do nothing but watch television during most of his waking hours. The tiny, colorless people in the curved glass were his only companions.

But now... he had a real companion in real-life!

Moreau happily returned to signaling to an elongated wall shelf next to the bed, over-filled with literature. They were the other beloved possessions of which he kept his claim. He'd often enjoyed them whenever his TV wasn't working correctly. Seeing the pretty people in the colorful pictures used to make his depressing, dour days seem a little less unendurable.

Joy approached the plank and smiled; pleased that it was set in the middle of the wall so there was no need to stand on tippy toes.

"Dare's so many books here," she mentioned with ogling sights.

The fish-man nodded as he squirmed spindly digits. "Yes, yes, that's because I addeded lots more books. ...I, I really like them!"

"I like reading, too." Joy noticed the titles and her lips curled. "Fairytales are my favorite."

Moreau twiddled to and fro. "He-he-hee! Mine, too!"

She reached a hand near one of the hardcovers but paused and peeked over her shoulder.

"Yes, yes, yes! You may!" answered the elated fish-man before the respectful woman could even ask for permission.

"Thank you, Moreau."

Joy chose one of the above lying books, opened it, and carefully flipped through its crinkly pages. It looked like it'd been submerged in water at one point in time, but she paid it no mind. Some of her best bedtime tales weren't in the utmost, pristine condition, either. The title of the held story did cause a slight ache in her chest. However, she remembered Moreau's promise and the hurting ebbed away.

Joy returned the story to the pile and looked at the bottom books. Those appeared much thicker in width and the titles on the spines were in much smaller print. Additionally, they were ones that she did not recognize.

"Are da bottom books yours, too?" she asked inquisitively.

Moreau threw an impassive squint at them and stuck out his pale tongue, which prompted a giggle from the young woman.

"No. Not mine. I tried to read them, but they were boring and made the inside of my head hurt a lot."

Joy finished scanning the heavy-sized literature, then faced her tour guide.

"Yeah, fairytales are way more fun."

"Mm-hmm! They are," the grinning fish-man concurred.

Joy touched her pursed lower lip. "But whose books are dey?"

Moreau clumsily veered around. His widened sights darted aimlessly through the small corridor in his view.

"The-the books belonged to the person who-who used to live here."

"Oh... ...Where did he go?"

Moreau screwed his eyes shut. Oh, damn!

If it wasn't for his bunglesome deformity, the fish-man would've attempted to kick himself. Hard. Curse his stupidity! He should have just said that the boring books were already present when he moved in. The ex-adjoined Lord of the Village couldn't tell Joy. Her kindheartedness would indisputably not allow her to understand that sacrificing villagers was for the greater good of Mother. He might scare his precious person away.

And with all certainty, he did not want that!

"...Moreau..?"

The little voice triggered the fish-man to flinch and taper his lids even tighter.

"...are ya alright?"

Again, the empathic tone towards him... Clicking his spiky nails in concentration, Moreau reopened his eyes and let out a detained hoarse breath.

"The... The-the man wanteded to go back to his... hometown." Moreau fronted the worried woman and feigned a sincere smile. "So, he left me this cabin and now, now it's mine."

"Wow, okay." Her smile resurfaced. "Dat was super nice a'him ta leave ya his house and stories. ...Even if dey look kinda boring."

A tip of Joy's pink tongue was emitted, and the giggling fish-man's grin became legit, once more.

"Please, follow me more, please!" He shifted onwards. "There's, there's more to see!"

"Alright!"

Joy retraced Moreau's steps while concluding why he had been staring at the hallway. She beamed with a titter.

He must be really excited ta finish da tour!

In the narrowly short corridor, Moreau went to the backdoor on his left. He noticed the bar had been reset by Joy and still found it amazing that she wanted to be occluded with him. Pushing that cherished epiphany aside, he focused on the small wall-cabinet at the near opposite side of the back entrance. Moreau decided not to take his companion outside as the blighting blizzard would hamper the tour immensely. Moreover, Joy had entered through the backdoor so she must have already seen what was out there.

The fish-man tugged the small door open to display four shelves consisting of lamp oil, detergents, white towels and washcloths, and bars of soap. On the inside of the door, hung a dustpan and a broom with a minuscule hole drilled at its base.

As before, he explained what the items were as the young woman's eyes took everything in, making herself wonder if she should've gotten a notepad out of her backpack to write all this down. Despite knowing about the cleaning supplies, other than the towels, Moreau hadn't used anything else. Still, he wanted to be at his best by being thorough with sightseeing his wooden castle.

After all, it was Joy's wooden castle, too...

Once the cabinet door was closed with a light, audible click, Joy continued to tag along with her giddy guide in the second and final chamber of the cabin. In the center of the kitchen was a square pine table with a centered lantern and two accompanying chairs. To the left, was a washboard inside a basin, and to its right, appeared to be some sort of tall apparatus of wooden poles.

Joy eyed the last items curiously. "What're deese, Moreau?"

The fish-man pointed to the tin bowl, then to the single towel strung on the other crisscross contraption.

"They're for washing clothes and to drape them to dry."

The woman summarized the eatery was also a laundry room for there were no more parts within the cabin to explore. She also discerned that Moreau didn't sound as enthusiastically spoken as the other explanations.

"Ya don't like doing da wash?" she asked softly.

Moreau paused and turned to her. "It's... a chore."

In reality, it was a recap of why the linen was still there. He often used the basin and clothesline but never for clothing. It was from that ever-so-often accident of sickness. And he internally prayed to Almighty Mother that he would not become bilious in the future.

Joy can never witness that abominating reaction... Never!

The woman ran her small digits along one of the rods. "I kinda like doing chores. Not much fun but I like being helpful. I just like ta be good... y'know?"

Moreau's shrunken smile regrew in appreciative awe.

Yes, Joy is good.

"I washed clothes in da bathtub a few times when me and Mom lost power from bad thunderstorms," the young woman said with an abrupt shake. "Thunderstorms can be so sudden and-"

"Scary!" finished both beings in unison.

They blinked in sync from hearing the same verbal accord and giggled at the silly symmetry. And from the talk of rain, Moreau was reminded to continue the inside expedition.

Got to be the best host! shouted his psyche. This time, I will be!

Wobbling to a single, off-grid sink, he pulled the knob of its cabinet door.

"This's where I- we get water!" announced the fish-man with much-returned enthusiasm.

Joy bent her knees to get a closer look at the large buckets with attached thick lines. This caused her eyebrows to arch from bemusement.

"I... I've never seen a sink like dis before." She straightened her small stature. "How does it work?"

Moreau wriggled with glee. "Oh! I'll tell you!" He directed her attention to the handle, next to the faucet. "You, you push this lots of times, and fresh water gets pulled up from the big bucket in the back. And the leftover water goes into the other big bucket. And, and when it gets full, it's poured outside."

"Wow! Can I try it?"

"Yes, yes!"

Joy leaned forward to reach the lengthy metal lever. She tried turning it and hummed quizzically. However, she recollected her guide's directions.

"Oh, right!"

"N-not right," corrected the fish-man, meekly waving a claw.

"Tee-hee! I mean, I know dat I've gotta push da handle."

"Yes!" Moreau raised and descended his excited hands. "Up and down!"

With small grunts, the woman did the request and the duo grinned widely as clean water trickled down the sink's drain. Then, Joy watched in utter fascination as the water accumulated in the front pail.

"Dat's really neat." She then, droned while pondering. "But where does all da water come from if dare aren't any pipes?"

"It's collected rainwater from the big barrels outside," replied Moreau, proudly crossing his arms.

Joy blinked from the memory of seeing the four timber tubs that were almost as tall as she was.

"Dat's super neat! I didn't know ya can drink da rain!"

The fish-man's enormous chin was a little higher than he normally carried it. He was quite pleased with exhibiting his marvelous housing arrangements!

Inelegantly, he strode to a hung cupboard that was between the sink and another undeclared appliance.

"In, in here are the plates and cups to eat and drink," Moreau stated, spreading open the small double doors. "And forks and spoons and things to help us eat!"

Joy regarded the white porcelain, metal utensils, and a small tin container. But before she was going to inquire about the latter, her perked interest ended with a peep, and she took a quick skip backward.

"What's wrong, Joy?" Moreau asked with worry. "Is it a spider? I, I can squish it for you!"

With returned upward lips, the woman waved her hands in front of her sweater.

"It's alright, Moreau. Dare aren't any spiders. Tho, I actually like dem. Especially da'wittle fuzzy ones."

The fish-man slightly slanted his large head. "But why did Joy jump?"

Joy rubbed her knuckles and relented a sharp sigh.

"I... I've got dis silly fear'a knives. ...Not da teeny ones ta dab jelly and cut sandwiches, but..." She cast an edgy glance at the frightening item. "...but da real biggie ones make me a squirmy wormy."

Moreau's sights landed on the mentioned knife. It was a carving knife that dwarfed the other slicing utensils and made them analogous to needles. Overlooking it was difficult. For even with the broad blade being veiled in its sheath, its foot-long length was unmistakable.

"It's, it's not s-silly to be afraid," he admitted lowly.

The carving knife always reminded him of a weapon. A weapon that was used on him during a betoken death dream...

'Ah! H-help me! Mother! Ow! MAAAAAAAAAAAA-!'

"Big... big sh-sharp things make me uh... a sq-squirmy w-wormy, too," stammered Moreau, covering his stomach after quickly closing the cupboard.

With another sudden shudder, Joy nodded while tucking her hands into entwined limbs. It was somewhat comforting to hear that she wasn't the only person who was spooked by storms and knives.

The pair shifted to the left and the very end of the wall, then stood in front of a black cast-iron oven. With full-on interest, the woman stared at its smooth, silvery stovetop and dark pipe, which went straight into the roof.

"I haven't seen an oven like dis, either. ...How does it work without electricity?"

Moreau regarded it for a moment. "I... I think it burns logs like a fireplace."

"Oh... I thought it might'a used gas like da old one dat my grandma used ta have."

The fish-man wrinkled the short bridge of his nose. "But... wouldn't gas make everything stinky?"

Joy blinked broadly. "What? Ya mean if da oven cooked food with far-!"

The woman hid her agape mouth. And after several sputters from the pair, audible hilarity ensued. This time, Moreau realized that his query was ridiculous. But in a good way. He would never tire of participating in simple merriment.

Once they quieted down, Joy stopped rearing her head and Moreau raised his while wiping his vision clear. He had no idea that laughter could produce tears.

Joy's hands freed her smile. "Oh my goodness, Moreau! Nooo! Da gas came from pipes. Not from-from people! Tee-hee-hee!"

"Huh-huh... huh! I'm sorry for the silly question."

The young woman remained beaming. "Please don't be! I think both'a us needed ta laugh after seeing dat scary knife!"

The fish-man made a curt nod. He couldn't have agreed more.

Joy felt her bottom lip. "So where are all da logs?"

"Oh, there's lots and lots of logs on the front porch with an axe that cutteded them." He briefly shivered again. "I didn't show you because of all the cold snow falling from the sky."

"Yeah, it's too snowy." Joy canted her head at the old cooking stove. "Does it use a lotta wood?"

Moreau jerked his unseen shoulders. "I don't know. ...I never used it. I... I eat my food how it is."

"Oh, okay," Joy repeated as she regarded the oven some more.

With a relieved grin, Moreau sighed because the woman didn't bat a single pretty eyelash. True, he ate meals at room temperature, but the fish-man wanted to forgo the memories of when it forced him to change and devour living fodder. Hopefully, that exigence would happen without her knowing... Perhaps while she slept?

His precious person must not ever see him like that... Ever!

Moreau droned from the surprised burbling that resounded in the kitchen. Then, the dark sclera of his eyes expanded from the thought of having to use the pail... right in front of Joy.

NO! Maybe I can just say I'm going outside to-!

Another raucous roar made itself well-known. But Moreau soon realized that he didn't feel sick. So where were the gurgles coming from?

"Oops! Sorry!" giggled Joy, clinging to her short midsection. "Looking at da oven made my tummy angry. ...I haven't eaten since I got um... losteded."
The hidden panic that had the fish-man's vital organ drumming away had instantly lessened but was still at a quickened pace. However, his racing tempo was from anticipation.

"Oh, silly me!" he scoffed with a tap to his unseen temple. "You still need to see the best part! I'll, I'll show you!"

The pair redid their steps until they reached a wall to their right, where quite a large sliding door resided not too far from the simple washing equipment.

Chuckling with more glee, Moreau placed a hand on the handle and partly looked over to the awaiting woman.

"Ready for the surprise?"

Bouncing with a grin that could outmatch the feline from a much-reread fiction, Joy kept her fists to her bosom.

"Uh-huh! Uh-huh! Please show me! I love surprises!"

The fish-man temporarily froze from hearing the emphasized word but resumed pulling the board akin to a video box show when a person won a fabulous prize.

Bright green orbs enlarged while scanning the overstocked pantry. It had a plethora of canned goods, sacks, packages, jars, and many gallon-sized jugs of rainwater.

"Tada!" exclaimed Moreau with an outspread, coated arm.

"Oh MY goodness!" Squealed the young woman. "Dare's so much foodies and it all looks so yummy!"

"Yes! I have only the best foods!" proclaimed Moreau, even though the only edible supplies he had managed to haul to the cabin were a couple of cheese wheels, still in a trash bag in the far corner of the deep pantry.

Impressed, Joy turned towards the happy fish-man.

"You're very lucky, Moreau."

He beheld the sweet, amenable being in front of him and his smile deepened.

"Yes... Yes, I am."

Joy's sights swirled around the pine interior and furnishings. "It'd be so nice if I could own my own house, someday."

Moreau signaled with his palms. "Well, now this is your lodge, too!"

Small eyebrows arose. "Huh?"

The fish-man averted his eyes as he mumbled indiscernibly for a moment.

"I-I mean it's, it's yours while you're here..."

To his relief, Joy bobbed her head.

"I know. Thank you for dat, Moreau." She tilted her head. "But... what is a lodge?"

"Oh... a lodge means... a house made of all wood."

"Ohhhhh," drawled the listening woman. "Dat's good ta know!"

Moreau was beaming from the attentive feedback.

"Yes! It's a fancy name! I like it because Lord of the Lodge sounds lots better than Lord of the Wooden Castl-"

He caught his mistake but knew he had already gabbed too much. He was just so enamored with having pleasant, concrete company.

Blinking with puckered rosy lips, Joy switched her head tilt to the other way.

"'Lord'?"

"Uhhh..." The fish-man tensely scratched the side of his face. "Lord is just, just... another fancy word for Royal. N-Nothing more."

"Royal... You mean like a king?"

"Uhhhhh..?" He tapped his knuckles. "Y-yes?"

Joy's mouth-line spread upwards. Hence, Moreau's fear of scaring her away was for naught.

"Wow, a king merman!"

"Uh, king part merman," corrected Moreau with a sigh and sowing smile.

"Sorry! King part merman. Dat's super-duper neat! So dis lodge is like your castle. You should have a crown like King Neptune!"

Moreau chuckled coyly and he couldn't help but marginally shuffle from view; the sunny beam on the young woman's delicate features had an effect on both his mien and warming cheeks. Being referred to as a king made the fish-man's remorse return for abandoning his crown. He could try to makeshift another, somehow... But the sticks were too splintery. Plus, he and Joy did require forks to eat.

Another rumbling growled at their ears. Moreau gave his hood another bonk.

"Oh! Super silly me! I forgot that it's time for supper!" He hobbled to his hungry companion's side. "Would Joy like something?"

Licking damp lips, Joy petted her protesting stomach. "Welp, my empty tummy sure says I do!"

Moreau proudly waved a right palm to the wide-ranging, plentiful provisions.

"Well... go pick whatever you want and as much as you'd like!"

"Really?!" squealed the hopping woman.

The fish-man closed his eyes with a big, graceless nod.

"Really, real-LEEE?!"

Moreau stood silent and stationary. His lids had snapped apart with limbs held tautly in the air as if he had gotten a bolt from the rickety electric bridge of the Reservoir. Because instead of rushing forward to grab goods off the shelves, those small, comforting hands had clamped onto him with surprisingly mighty little limbs pressed around his sides.

Eventually, the flabbergasted fish-man's slowed mind had understood. When Joy had first outstretched her arms, hindsight warned him that she was readying to slap him. Now, he knew what was happening. And he couldn't in the name of God, believe it...

Beauty was embracing the grotesque.

Moreau emitted a gasp when Joy squeezed him before skipping back.

"Thank you, Moreau! You're da BEST!"

The fish-man stayed stock-still while the woman peered and poked in the pantry like a child in a sweet shop. He swallowed, trying to settle his mutated, swelling heart. Soon... his blinking resumed and his agape, flushed face brightened as he breathed serenely through a curving, wide, mouth-line.

Moreau wasn't sure if getting praise would ever become wonted for him. Nevertheless, the prior, lesser House Lord of the Village would be thrilled whenever he was honored.

I'm... I am the best...

Every single time.


A/N: Fun fact: I have a messy but précised doodle of the insides of Moreau's cabin. This way, nothing moves out of place and stays consistent for future chapters.

Guest: I'm thrilled you love Joy. You're right. I think she's just the person whom Moreau could learn from.

Ellen: I know I don't need to thank you but I'm doing it anyway. Thankies!