#pink girly is my buddy red's and green is mine

[allsketchesnononsense]

I know these pretty rave girls

[pigsiescribe]

My friends and I like to pop in on humans. Children mostly; sometimes teenagers. Their screams are the most hilarious, and when their parents come to check on them and see nothing under the bed, in their closet or out their window, the child's flabbergasted face is icing on the cake. We never visit the same child twice, of course. That's just cruel and unusual torture. Just one visit, and the kid will never see us again. There's millions of children in the world, so it's not like there's slim pickings.

This was supposed to be like any other scare. I stood ready in a little girl's closet, waiting for her to open the door. When she did, I chattered my many teeth menacingly, placing a clawed hand on her back, as if I was about to steal her away from her home and everyone she knew and loved. I considered myself a master of the silent scare.

"Hello there," the girl said brightly as if I were a little lost kitten. "How did you get in here?"

"Missy! Bath time!" Someone called from elsewhere in the home.

"Coming!" The girl yelled back, but when she turned to face me again, I was already gone.

***

"She wasn't scared of you?!" One of my buddies exclaimed in absolute disbelief. In our experience, infants and toddlers were not always so easily scared if they thought we posed no threat, but that girl--that "Missy"--was definitely school age and therefore had a sense of right and wrong when facing strange creatures. While she had one mouth with maybe four fangs at most, I had four mouths, all full of fangs. While her body was plump and soft, mine was slimy and sinewy, my ribcage poking out the sides. While she had two arms, two hands, two legs and two feet, each with five digits on the ends, I had six arms and legs, each with an appendage that had four long red claws that acted as digits. Surely her instincts would tell her there was something very wrong with me, and that I was a creature to be feared.

"Was she wearing spectacles?" I shook my head. "Perhaps she did not see you properly."

Regardless, my friends would check on her themselves, practically burning with morbid curiosity. Perhaps I wasn't the most terrifying creature Missy had ever seen. Maybe she suffered from trypophobia and would scream at the sight of my friend with a hundred eyes? Or maybe she suffered from pteronophobia and would wail at my friend with feathers? Or maybe she suffered from apiphobia and would cry at the sight of my black and yellow striped friend with a stinger?

Night after night, a friend would visit the little Missy. Night after night, they would report that she had not batted an eye at their presence. She asked my friend with a hundred eyes what he would do if he needed glasses. She asked my friend with the feathers if she could keep one, apparently impressed with his plummage. She asked my striped friend with the stinger if he liked flowers and what was his favorite. But there was one question she asked of each of my friends, and it was always the same.

"Can you ask the green one if he'll come and see me again, please?" So polite.

There technically wasn't anything preventing me from seeing her again, other than our unspoken rule of not terrorizing children, but as it was clear that she wasn't even slightly unnerved by my presence, what harm could there be at this point?

***

I appeared in her closet once more. She squealed at the sight of me. I thought for a moment I had finally horrified her, but she grabbed one of my appendages and jumped happily. "You're here! You're here! You're here! You're here! You're here!"

"Missy? Who are you talking to?"

"No one, Daddy!" Missy quickly fibbed to her parent before turning to me. "I'm supposed to be in bed," she admitted, "but we can talk for a little. I'm not sleepy yet." I agreed. "I'm Missy. What's your name?"

I didn't think she would be able to pronounce my name, so I asked her what she would like to call me. After a moment, she decided on "Emerald," because I was a "pretty green," just like the precious stone. She walked me over to her bed and laid down, looking at me with adoring eyes

I like to visit her still, even in the daytime so long as she is by herself, which was often. She lacked companions because (as she explained) "girls are not supposed to like scary things, like bones and monsters and spiders. Girls are supposed to like butterflies and princesses and sparkles." She hated the interior of her bedroom; so bright and colorful and pink. She hated that she had to make her own toys--ones she would actually WANT to play with--and hide them from her parents, lest they confiscate the playthings. She hated having to visit someone called a "counselor," and a "therapist," because they would ask her if there was anything wrong, when she would make it quite clear there wasn't anything wrong. There were some days she even hated her name, and would much prefer her middle name "Robin," since that wasn't "so girly."

I struggle to grasp human normative behaviors (I'm starting to see my culture is more lackadaisical than hers), but I try to offer the best advice I can. She told me once about a girl at school who will get physically violent, then tell the teachers that it was just an accident to avoid punishment. I suggested she fight back, as the peaceful route was proving pointless. Apparently, "girls aren't supposed to fight," according to her parents before they grounded her to her bedroom. She insists my advice is better than anything a counselor or therapist ever said to her.

While I'm aware that it will mean less time to spend with me, I do hope Missy--sorry, Robin--will make friends with her own kind soon. Until then, I will be there for her.

[mama-ghostie-61542]

Just Fishin’--Chapter 1

If you recognize it, it ain’t mine.

Rated M for bad language and sexy stuff later.

Chapter 1           

            It was about 4 when I rolled out of my bed, my head pounding with too much to drink last night while I was hanging out with my ‘friends’. Those girls have not a clue how to drink. They were drinking all sorts of frou-frou girlie drinks and there I sat with my Jack and Coke (heavy on the Jack).

           The more we drank, the louder they got, the less booze Des put in their drinks. I love going to bug Des at Bad Weather. He’s sweet and young, but very married. Been there, done that, ain’t gonna do it again.

           When I got there, he gave me a hug and said, “Hey, Sugar. I heard about the Pink Party tonight. Any special requests?”

           I smiled, “Yeah. Start me out with a Jungle juice then switch to TriWhiskey’s. After two of those, switch me to Fat Jack’s .And PLEASE, don’t use anything stronger than 100 proof for their shit.  Really don’t wanna have to carry them home. As it is, I am gonna pickle my liver. Have I told you I fuckin’ hate pink.”

           He laughed, “Sure have. Want me to sneak ya out, Sug,” and went to mix my drink.

           Before I could nod, the girls all came in. of course they had to put a sash and shit on me. Don’t even want to know where they found the crown that said ‘SINGLE’. I guess it’s the drawl back of being the only divorcee in our little group. That’s another sticking point. They can never understand why I hunt and fish…or why I always put in for out of state tags and go back to my hometown in Illinois for two weeks a year. The last time I went, he went off on me and tried to kill me. I let him have it. I’s finally done with his shit after 2 years of it.

           These citified girls were the only friends I was allowed to have. He pushed out all my hunting and fishing buddies. Still don’t understand why he was afraid of Charlie. Charlie is my brother Cody’s husband. I taught him how to make the world’s best stink bait and Charlie taught me the right way to clean an Asian Carp. I could always count on Charlie.

           Then it hits me why. Aw, fuck. Now I really gotta get up. Not only do I need to pee, but I need to clean my brain out. I showered, downed an aspirin, got my coffee, and looked out the window; it was kinda overcast and drizzly today-perfect fishin’ weather. After eating a couple pieces of toasted homemade bread and homemade blackberry jam, I grabbed my phone. No doubt my quasi adopted dad was awake, and if I was gonna surprise Red today, I’d need to clear it with Pop. I dialed him up and hit the send button before I could stop myself.

           “Jessie, this had better be good.”

           “Um. Hi, Pop. Can I surprise Red with fishin’ today? It’s perfect weather for it. I understand if there is something you want him to… ,” I was cut off by his reply.

           “Jessalyn!”

           “Yes, Sir,” I immediately countered.

           “It is fine with me. And, Jessalyn, how many times have I told you not to call me Sir.”

           “Too many to count, Pop. Sorry, Pop.”

           “Better, Jessie. When should I expect you?”

           “20 minutes, tops.”

           “See you then, my dear.”

             I hung up and headed to the extra room where my gear was stored. After 5 minutes of rummaging, I gathered up my chest waders and my rods. I made sure to lock my door on the way out as my ex had gotten in a few times. My tackle box and stink bait were always in the tool box in my truck. I stopped at the only bodega in Manhattan that carried chicken livers and grabbed a box. Just after I got down into the sewers, I stopped to throw on my chest waders.  

           Two minutes after I started toward the lair, I was met out in the sewers by a very groggy and grumpy Leo.

           “I don’t like you at the moment,” he grumbled and looked at my waders confused.  “What the hell are you wearing?”

           “Chest waders,” I smiled as I snapped the top of them. “Takin’ Red fishin’ wit me taday.”

           “For what?”

           “It depends on what’s biting.”

           “Not surprised. It’s you and fishing.”

           “Yet ya never complain when I hunt and tag out.”

           “Hell no. That is a shit ton of fresh game. I don’t think any of us would complain,” he paused. “Hey, do you remember that log of elk salami I hid?”

           “Yeah. Why?”

           “Mikey found it. I caught him merle-ing it like a cigarette.”

           All I could do was laugh. The mental image of Mikey with a log of salami hanging out the corner of his mouth while he was playing video games was just too funny. Soon, Leo’s chuckle was added to my belly laugh.

           When we got there, I snuck into Raph’s room and kicked the end of the bed. “Get up, Raph. WE are going fishin’.”

           He peeked back over one heavily muscled shoulder and grumbled, “Fuck you, I’m sleepin’.” Then, he proceeded to bury his head under his pillow.

           I noted that one massive bare foot was hanging out of the blankets. In retaliation, I smiled and barely grazed my nails along the sole. It was funny as shit to watch him jump.

           “Stop that,” he half whined as he jerked his foot back under the blanket.

           I moved up next to him and sat down, then laid back over his shell. “Come on, Raph! The weather is perfect and the fishies is bitin’,” I said in a half sing-song voice.

           “Stupid fish,” he growled from under his pillow.

           I slid off of him and down to the floor. I leaned over the edge of the bed by his muscled arm and whispered, “Get up. Get up. Get up.”

           After a few seconds, one bronze eye rolled open. In its grumpy depths, there was exasperation, mixed with a good bit of curiosity, and the barest hint of mirth.

           I grinned. “You love me!”

                         Raph’s POV

           The second I caught sight of those blue green eyes shining I knew I was done.

           “Unfortunately,” I growled and rolled over, pulling the blankets back up over my head.

           Inside, I was secretly fangirling over those eyes. They start out darker blue green around the edge and they have flecks of yellow and brown all the way to the pupil. The color turns to a pretty spring green the closer ya get to the pupil, too. All of that is encased in that amazing almond shape with naturally long lashes. Her pretty eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles. I have never seen her fake one yet. But when she smiles, those dimples come out and I have an awful time trying to act like a tough guy; she turns me into a puddle.

           In less than a second, she had somehow wedged herself between me and the wall. She sat there, hanging on to my arm and half shaking me and nearly sobbing that the fish are gonna go back to sleep if we don’t get moving.

           I couldn’t help it, I started laughing. “Alright. I’m up. Stop it, Woman.”

           Before I could blink she was in the door way. “C’mon, Raph, we’re burnin’ daylight!”

           “Ah, Babe, it’s still dark out.”

           “Yep.”

           “Then…Nevermind.”

           “We leave in five minutes!”

           In four minutes, I was waiting for her to finish going to the bathroom so we could go. As we got closer to the truck, I could smell the stink bait. I know it’s her great granddads recipe, but it reeks. The stench alone could probably take the finish off of a Buick. However, I am lucky in that even though my snout is slightly more sensitive, I live with Mikey, so terrible smells come with the territory.

           I had a good laugh watching her climb up in that jacked up old Chevy Scottsdale. This thing is sweet. It has a lift kit and super knobby tires. It also has a snorkel package and a brush guard. I thought it was dirty, but when I got closer I realized it was painted to look like Realtree camouflage.

A/N--Inspired by Maddie and Tae’s ‘Shut Up and Fish’