Monday, November 28, 2005

   When Chibis Attack! Part 22
Previous Chapters here. Sweet like candy!


Part 22: In Which Something is Shocking


Close second folder, toss onto the Good Enough pile. This kind of productivity has to be a personal record.

Better go get some coffee from the helpful hallucination in my kitchen. My fingers are freezing, I could use the warm up.

It is cold in here! I can tell because...




Kougaiji is sitting on the floor, staring up at me. He's wearing a black and white, down-filled parka.

"Why the hell is it so cold in here?" I ask the wall, in a loud voice.

"I'm making pastry, so I shut off the heat. It'll warm up in here soon enough; I've got the oven on." The wall answers in a suspiciously In Charge voice. The wall's not the boss of me! I give the wall a piece of my mind:

"Don't just do stuff like that without asking!"

He looks like a soccer ball.




Hakkai-Beyond-the-Wall might have made an intelligent reply to my rejoinder. I just wasn't listening. This is because the Prince of the West is as wide as he is high, so stuffed with down that he's round, and covered with black and white checkers.

Soccer ball.

Soccer ball, staring lovingly back at me.

Soccer ball, squeaking, "I wuv you!" as I stand and step toward it.



I used to love playing soccer. I was even on a community team once; it was great. Now, for the perfect kick, you see, you pull your leg back like this, and...



There is a knocking, knocking at my front door.

Loud. Persistent. Authoritative, perhaps.



Glance down at Soc... Kougaiji.

"Scat. I have to get the door."

Little arms stuck straight out to the sides, he tries to lever himself up. Rolls over onto his back, instead.

"Hewp!"



Dammit. Too cu...

Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock!

"Coming!" Goalie-grab over-stuffed chibi. Where can I hide it?

Knock! Knock!

"Sorry, just a sec!"




Stuff chibi under sweater, cursing the apparent ineffectiveness of my DoorNotBell. So much for that Nobel Prize in Home Peace Technology.

Open door a crack and peer out.




Policeman.




Quick mental archive check: Have I done anything illegal lately? Quasi-legal? I haven't had time to download any music, and I'm sure it's still legal to be drunk in your own home...

"Hello there, ma'am. Sorry to disturb you."

"That's quite alright, officer." The chibis are hiding right? They're smart enough to hide. Sure they are.

"Do you know you have a broken doorbell, ma'am? Have you had trouble with vandals?"

"Oh, no. Just doing some home improvements. How can I help you, sir?"

"Well, it's just a bit of an inquiry, ma'am. Asking the public's help in an investigation."

"Oh?" The officer keeps moving towards the door, opening it a little with each word. Those chibis had better be hiding, or he can take them away to some cute little cells, for all I care...




"You heard the 7-11 was knocked over last night?" He asks. In my surprise, I let the door open all the way. Suddenly, he's infinitely more friendly, though I can't figure why. Maybe he likes my choice of carpet.

"No. Really? Again? Poor Mr. Clerk. Is he alright?"

"Yes, ma'am. Just a little shaken up, that's all."

"Gee, that's too bad. I mean, good! I mean, good that he's not hurt; bad that they robbed..."

"Yes, ma'am. So, do you have any kids here? Besides the one on the way."

On the way to what? "Uh. No. No kids."

Various relatives have, on occasion, forced me to watch their sugar-maddened spawn, generally when all the local babysitters have fled their area. These brief interactions with the Fascist Dictators of Tomorrow have convinced me thoroughly of the benefits of not breeding.




"Didn't really think so," the policeman continues. "Still, we have to ask. You see, Mr. Clerk keeps insisting that he was taken down by a pair of toddlers."

"Toddlers?" They... toddled up and hit him? I mean, I know they can be vicious, but...

"You know, little kids. Really little, according to him. But, to be honest..." Mr.Policeman leans conspiratorially closer. "I think he might have been nipping into the juice a little that night, if you understand.

"Oh, yes. I understand." ...So very well indeed.

"Working a job like that, a guy gets bored. Maybe he drinks a little to help the time pass..." He continues, as if this observation was Top Secret.

"Mm-hmm." Or, perhaps he drinks to make his hallucinations stop. I wonder if Mr. Clerk has a Chibi Problem? If he does, I truly share his pain.



"So, here we have this order to interview preschoolers, ask if they or their friends have beaten up any grown-ups and stolen their cigarettes lately. I tell you, it's making us all feel a little silly."

"I bet." Something is nagging at the back of my mind. It could well be that I've seen so much silliness in the last few days that silly things seem normal.

"Anyway, if you hear anything about the robbery, call this number. Okay?" A card. Number for Sgt. P. Mann.

"Will do."

"But don't go worrying yourself over it. You should take it easy. When's the baby due, anyway?"

Huh? Due? In the mail?

Glance at my feet to see if they heard him more clearly than my ears did.

Can't see my feet.



Fight sudden urges to run, throw up, scream, and have sterilization surgery.

Soccer ball in sweater. I mean, chibi in...

Chibi who thinks I'm his...

It's so hard to self-censor at times like this.




"Any minute now." I smile brightly to hide the grimace of disgust invading my face.

"Really? Well, I'm sure that will be a relief."

"You have no idea."

"Ha ha, I suppose it'll be 'Mom,' not 'ma'am' then, hey?"

And thankfully he leaves, laughing at his little joke.

I'm glad he's gone.

Assaulting an Officer carries a hefty jail term. If I'm going to live in a cell, I'd prefer a padded one.



Team Sparkle will be playing Team Glitter Glue in the next Saccharine Cup game. Winners will go on to the Final!

Next Time: Rebirth!
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