The idea spawned form a Weekly Warmup at The Periwinkle Pen.
Not categorized as a WW because it serves a higher purpose.
For the warmup, a character celebrates a holiday they don't normally celebrate.
So I used the idea to flesh out the universe that I call "Strawberry Killer."
April 24, 2011
In the backseat, Organic Study 2784 (codename: Id) gaped at the blues, browns, and whites blurring past her from her small window to the outside world. Small "ahhhs" escaped her mouth, but nothing intelligible. Instead, she contented herself with just staring at the thirty miles per hour speed. I kind of smiled.
When I stepped out of the car, Id whined and pulled at the seat belts restricting her to the seat. Each time, the seat belt snapped back against her vest with a small /thwup/. In a quiet voice I murmured, "Calm down, hon, I will help you shortly." Sometimes, I enjoy talking to Id even if she does not yet understand.
My wife greeted me at the door, and I scooped her into my arms and planted a kiss on her sweet lips. She laughed nervously and asked, "How long will the beast have to stay here?"
I winced. "Just for today. Do you not think that a holiday--her first one at that--is the perfect opportunity to teach her about traditions?"
She only shrugged and scampered back into the house. I could smell cooking vegetables.
"You are making something meaty as well, right?" I shouted after her.
"Yeah, yeah."
Good.
I walked back to the car and found Id chewing at the seat belt, a tear forming. When I leaned over and clicked off the belt, she only looked up and me and glared with her scarred eye, barring her teeth."Sorry, hun," I said to her, "but that's what average people do, so you must learn to do so."
Once we were in the house, Id sniffed the air and looked around the room. Her eyes lingered on a photo from my wife and mine's wedding, then hunched over on her back, taking a small step foreward. I laughed and place my hand gently on her shoulder. "There is no danger here," I told her. "The only people here are my wife and I, and we love you."
My wife set the dinner table while I led Id by the hand into the dining room. Id could not rest her eyes on one thing for even a second, many times leaning her face closer to sniff the shiniy artificial plants. Making grunts all the while, she sniffed the fabrics of the curtains and tablecloth and finally stared outside the window. A man jogged with earbuds in his ears with wires flailing about passed the house, at which Id growled loudly. My wife sighed and asked, "Can't you get her to stop?"
"Afraid not. She acts purely on instinct."
"Yeah, I forgot about that after all your talk of her behaving more like a human."
The Missus must be on her period. I sighed and led Id to the small, square table.
"This seat," I said slowly, "is where you sit." I pulled the chair out for her and motioned for her to sit. She squat down next to the chair and sniffed it before plopping down on it. The chair squeaked as she wiggled around, making herself comfortable. Her eyes stared forward, narrowed, no longer facing the window and instead looking into the kitchen and watching the Missus work her magic.
I picked up utensils made out of silverware, one by one, and showed them to Id. "This is a soup spoon, which you will only use for the liquid-like appetizer. And you have to use both the fork and knife to cut up your meat."
"She can't understand a single word you're saying," my wife called in that I-told-you-so tone, not taking her eyes off the turkey she withdrew from the oven. "You're wasting your breath."
Snarling, Id slammed a fist on the table, causing the empty glasses to shake. I smiled as she glared and returned to preparing the food.
When I finished introducing Id to dishes, napkins, glasses, and how to cut up meat, my wife brought in the vegetable soup and placed it on the table. Id immediately leaned forward to sniff the soup, but I took her shoulder and pulled her back. She whined loudly, and I held on to her wrists. As she thrashed, I said to the Missus, "Pour her some soup--quickly!"
"This is why I never want children," she groaned, filling up Id's bowl to the brim.
Id calmed down, and I let go of one wrist and jammed the spoon into her released hand. "Eat with this," I said. For a second, Id did nothing but look from the Missus--to whom she glared at, for which I cannot blame her--to the soup. She slowly started to lower her head. "No," I said, raising my voice. I tapped the spoon. "Eat with this."
A burst of air rushed out of her nose as she tried to dip her head closer to the bowl, and again I instructed her on how to eat it. My wife returned from placing the dish away from Id and stared at my actions without glancing at her own bowl of hot soup. "Did I or did I not tell you this would not work? That beast eats like a savage at the lab, and at a house, no different would happen."
When I tried a different teaching approach, taking her wrist and manually trying to budge her arm which would not move, the Missus continued. "That thing may look human with a beast's ears, but it's nothing more than an overgrown baby. It doesn't know left from right thanks to living with animals in some forest, and it'll die before it learns how to say 'please' and 'thank you.'" A pause. "Look, I don't mind you doing this researching business. But you have way too much confidences in your subjects. You are intelligent, and they are not. You don't have a teaching agree, and they refuse to learn. It just can't work. And a holiday, of all days. What were you thinking?"
Biting back a sigh, I let go of her wrist. Id stared down at her unmoving arm, at her spoon, and at her bowl, and then she glanced up at the Missus. Her jaw moved up and down slightly, and I knew she was hitting her rows of teeth against one another.
Id exhaled and furrowed her brows, and cautiously, she lifted the spoon and dunked it into the bowl. Tightening her grip, she lifted the spoon and stared at the tiny pool of brown liquid with tiny chunks of vegetables. Both the Missus and I watched her nearly bump the spoon against her lips but successfully open her mouth and dump out the contents of the spoon.
I looked at the Missus and let a smug grin stretch across my face as her face fell. "She does not enjoy being condescended. I am sure she can eat our Easter dinner with us."
The Missus slumped into her chair and raised her spoon. "Just wait until the main course."
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