Wednesday, May 25, 2005

   When Chibis Attack! Part 6
If you've missed any chapters and want to catch up, it's archived here because I'm too lazy to move to another site.


Pulling into the weed-lined driveway brings on feelings of intense foreboding. The windows are dark and ominous, lighted by occasional flickers of unexplained movement. Instinctive reluctance to approach the obviously suspicious is only overcome by the nauseated desire to get away from the Idiot and Straight Man act playing on the back seat of the car.

I make for the door lugging the shopping bags, rum tenderly but securely tucked under my arm.

The wind howls in the eaves.

No, wait. That's not the wind...





The now-familiar sound of chibi voices come through the door as a muffled echo.

("For crying out loud SHUT UP, you stupid youkai!")
("You're going to be soooo embarrassed when you get back to normal, Kougaiji!")





Sick fascination draws me to the door like a salmon with a hook in its cheek. The howling grows unbelievably louder as I approach.

("Maybe you should hit him with something.")
("You hit him.")
("I can't... He's too cute.")

The curse words that undoubtedly follow are drowned out by inconsolable wailing.





There is a puddle on my front step. It appears to be dripping from inside the house. It had better be water.

("Kougaiji, you're going to be so embarrassed you won't even talk to yourself for a week!")

Key in the lock.

An image of Gojyo's earlier enormous snot bubble leaps into my head. Think again.

Carefully unpack one of the providential tissue boxes. They may have been an 'accidental' purchase, but I am now certain they have a purpose in my life...

Key in the lock.

("They're home! Sanzo, they're home!")
("If he doesn't shut up now, I'll definitely kill him.")

Tissue box defense engaged. Open the damn door.





My front entranceway has been sand-bagged with towels and paper towels, spare sheets and overgrown dust-bunnies. In the middle of a deep pool of (thankfully) clear, odorless saltwater sits Chibi Kougaiji. He is doing an incredible impersonation of a Chibi Fountain.

Tears pour out of his scrunched-up eyes at a rate more appropriate for a mechanical faucet than a biological orifice.




As I set the groceries on High Ground, the Realism Center of my brain lights up like the Service Engine Before it Breaks dial on my car.

If he had lost that much blood, he would definitely be dead. Yet, how could an (assumed) mammal have more of any body fluid than blood? Still, he continues to gush at a rate that could be measured in cubic centimeters per second. Pressure gauges come to mind.




I wonder if the government has a number in the book to call at times like this? 'The Department of Aliens and Stuff Like That, please leave a message after the tone...'

Imagine the technical applications for this! Little turbines could run on this seemingly endless supply of hot saltwater. Or perhaps there's a way to harness the noise energy in that painfully loud howl...?

Except...

Except no one could do it.




My own mother says I have no heart. I do not collect cute things, or paint pictures of fairies. I do not go to movies where Baby Kittens find their Mummies.

But still...

...

Poor little guy.

...

Take off shoes, roll up pant-legs. Step in.

"Come on, then."




The sudden end of the howling actually brings into focus just how loud it really was. Like stepping into the eye of a hurricane, a huge force ends and the calm seems almost surreal. Or, at least, slightly more surreal than being surrounded by one foot tall caricatures of fictional characters.

Kougaiji's snotty little face blinks up at me through runny eyes.

"...sniiiIIIIFFFF..." There is a vague suggestion of the possibility that the bawling may begin anew.

My Check Reality Soon light burns intensely for a moment, then makes a plink noise and goes dark.

Poor little guy.

...

"Who wants a hug?" Was that my voice?

"Me!"




It is a very odd situation to be in when having a snotty, damp, super-deformed youkai hanging from the front of one's shirt is an improvement.

I only have a moment to consider this, and to wonder why Kougaiji's response seemed to be echoed by several other little voices. This time limitation may be for the best.

Concentration. I need concentration. And a Mop.




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