Well folks, here it is; the second of my short fics. My thanks to pre-readers Red_Line, Archonix, SoylantOrange, and anyone else that I've forgotten. Your help was greatly appreciated! Cheers!
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Shots Fired
It's quiet in here most of the time. I don't like
it and it shouldn't be, because all I can do is think.
Think think think think think, is all I do around here anymore,
and do I get thanked for it? The hell I do. All
the thinking I do, and they none of them notice how sorry
I am - they just sit and judge behind closed walls and
minds, they don't care about me at all. How sorry I am
doesn't enter into it, just judge judge judge judge-ity
judge all day every day, like I'm not even there, but I
am I have to be otherwise why would they think about
me?
Y'see?
But I still see their faces, even here - and
they keep staring - just staring.
They didn't fight back, either.
***
I can see it all on the inside of my head, the
inside of these walls - some TV show I don't like,
can't get rid of and these walls are so blank, y'know,
so it's the only show in town! Ain't that a hoot?
***
It starts with a chase. It's me and two folks,
Fast Folks and mysterious because I can't see their
faces but I know they're important because they know
me, know me by name and how many people in the sewer
know some girl from the surface? Some alien girl,
some one-eyed freakish girl with her hair and her boots
and abandonment issues, so why would they know me? But
they do know me 'cause they said my name, my real
name the way it's supposed to be pronounced and said
so that means they really really know me, because who
else than somebody that really knows me knows my first
name comes second? But I keep following them because
I have to, I have to, I have to know why they know
and who they are and also, why the hell are they
wearing hooded robes? Isn't it summer?
We chase and chase and chase and chase until
I think my legs are gonna fall off, and then we
get to that house again, only this time the
door's locked and that idiot Fry used himself
as a battering windowbreaker, but it's no
problem 'cause I'm limber and know kung-fu
so what do I do? Shimmy shammy up the pole streetlamp
nearby and onto the roof, that's what *I* do, buster.
I get on the trail and not nobody's gonna shake me
off - not when I'm this...
Did I mention the staring? Because it's really
starting to put a damper on the proceedings. I hate
dampers, kinda like the way I hate Pampers but then I
haven't worn a diaper been a baby in years, nu-uh, not
me!
Not me, no no no. Not much more.
***
Across the roof and down down down the hole
like Santa-sicky-ikey-o. Pss-hycho. Y'know.
Santa; now there's a freakulon, somethn'-goin-on.
Then again, is someone really a jerk if that's the only
thing they can be, what they're programmed to be? Discuss
among yourselves, but I'd have to say survey says a big
heaping helping steaming load of 'yes' to that one.
Don't make me rush this, rush rash push pull
shove this. This is difficult enough with one eye, and
then there's the one eye to deal with, okay?
Okay. Big big 'o', teeny tiny tiny 'k'.
So up and over and down the chute like that stupid
droid, and face to face are we. Me, inquisitor-hunter and
mother of huntresses, they meek and yapping and prey
and cornered. So I'm confused and mad and I say some
words and they stay with the unmoving mouths and I
say some more words and they still won't move the jaws
on the faces and I see it the the on the wrist like mine
and now more more more words, still nothing else other
than these these these words, out of my mouth and I'm
mad *mad* MAD AND WHY WON'T THEY -
Oh. So they did.
So they did what they did what they did what
they did and the hammer's back, hammer's coming down,
pipe down lights down head down right now for the
big finish and lights and beeping and crashing and
'Noooo'-ing and clicking and and pulling and
screaming and yelling and pulling. And sobbing.
And I'm home. I'm home 'cause I see her face
see the eye and when the hood's gone, yeah the
one eye and aren't tentacles a neat idea instead
of arms doncha think? It's nice what they did with
the place.
And I'm finally home.
FIN
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Author's Note: This is not a spin-off of 'Parallel Lives'; I'm a huge fan of Archonix's work, but this is just a case of 'parallel evolution' - i.e., a total coincidence. Thanks for reading!
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Fry: He was a good man, Leela.
Leela: Yeah...you were.
- Bender's Big Score
Author
