SciFiMage: Y is for Yarn
By Chris Africa
|
|
"Y is for Yarn" © Alan F. Beck
|
May 5
Today Terry dragged a half-dead bird into the kitchen. Boy, this sure tops the nest of goopy-eyed kittens she found last week. It's the ugliest thing I've ever seen, all blue and deformed. Not a single feather on its entire body.
When we got home from errands, it was sprawled out on our WELCOME mat like road kill. I pretended not to see it and walked right into the house. Why do I always have to be the one to dispose of dead things, anyway? I groaned when I heard her footsteps pause.
"You're not seriously going to bring that thing in the house?" I did not turn around when I said it. The puppy dog eyes always do me in. "That's the ugliest damned bird I ever saw."
"Of course. What do you expect me to do with it? Poor little thing." She petted its limp head, demonstrating what a poor little thing it was.
I suggested that she move it into the flowerbed where the snakes could find it and take care of it for us. It's completely natural. I mean, snakes have to eat, too, don't they?
Without a word, she brought it straight to the kitchen. I could tell she was really angry with me by the way she laid it out on our imported marble countertop.
Then she petted its head again and said, "Don't worry little fella. We'll have you up and at 'em in no time."
She never says that to me.
May 7
I squashed a lizard today on the driveway. I had to scoop it into the compost bin and make like I was washing the car, so I could get rid of all the guts. Terry was pretty impressed that I thought of washing the car.
"But George, you should do that at night, you know. The neighbors are going to complain and we'll get a fine for washing in the driveway."
I said, "Yes, dear." The lizard stain was all gone, so I rolled up the hose and put it away.
Thank God Terry makes me take care of the compost.
May 9
Terry gave the featherless bird a name today, "Zoix." That's what I think when I look at it, too: ZOIX!!
Dr. Peason told her the other animals weren't likely to catch any bird diseases it might be carrying. He also told her that the thing probably wouldn't survive in the wild because of numerous physical defects - malformed wings, no feathers and no beak. He said that's probably why mama bird tossed it out of the nest in the first place. Sort of a natural selection thing.
I could have told her that.
After Terry let it out of quarantine, it waddled around the house all day harassing our other adoptees. Mega, the potbelly pig, wedged herself behind the sofa trying to get away from it. She was hoarse from squealing when I came into the room and found Zoix perched on her rear-end.
Zoix really hit it off with Fluffy, though. I could swear it was part kitten, the way those two went at it wrestling and chasing each other. Zoix is pretty stupid, even for a bird. Fluffy climbs right up the silk damask curtains, but Zoix just sits at the bottom and makes little whimpering sounds (thank God).
Some day I'm going to put my foot down: either Terry can have a decorating budget, or she can have a menagerie, but not both. Some day.
May 12
Zoix is twice the size of Fluffy, equally mischievous, and apparently half as graceful. Terry made muffins for breakfast - blueberry, my favorite - and we were just settling in to a little CNN when we heard glass crashing in the kitchen.
Fluffy was sitting in the corner of the room daintily nibbling a bit of muffin she'd snagged from the top of the pan. Zoix was on the counter with his nose buried in one of the muffin cups, paws resting on two more muffins, and tail wagging back and forth smacking the wineglass rack.
When I shouted at Zoix, Terry gave me a dirty look and shoed me out of the kitchen. Then, (can you believe it?) she took his picture WITH HIS NOSE STILL IN THE MUFFINS so she could email one to her brother. He is about twice as crazy as she is when it comes to adopting homeless things (he brought home a bucket of worms once after a thunderstorm), and they're always shooting pictures back and forth of their animals' bad behaviors.
May 16
Okay, I know whoever reads this is going to think I'm a nutcase, but Zoix is growing scales. I didn't dare point it out to Terry, because she already thinks I'm an animal hater. But just in case we both disappear one day and no one finds any trace of us, I want there to be some record of what's going on here.
May 20
Seriously, Zoix looks like a 25-pound lizard. With wings. I don't know that I need to spell it out any more specifically than that - if you're reading this because I'm dead, you can draw your own conclusions.
May 21
Zoix broke three of Terry's ribs while she was lying on the floor last night. We were in the emergency room until 4 a.m. It really ticked me off when the doctor asked me to leave so she could talk to Terry privately. I'm sure she thought I punched Terry or shoved her down the stairs. When they let me back in, the doctor was still giving me the evil eye. I would have given it back, but that doesn't make them less suspicious of you.
Oh, guess what. I get to take care of the zoo for the next three weeks while Terry is healing up. Joy joy. She can't do any lifting and has to be really careful about bending and reaching for a while.
I wonder... if all the animals disappeared and the back door was standing open one morning... would Terry divorce me or just curse me for an incompetent fool?
June 2
I have managed to find bright spots in between cleaning the litter boxes and other messes made by our various adoptees. Lizard-boy, for instance, is about as dumb as Fluffy when it comes to chasing my laser pen. I can shine the dot around for a few seconds, stick it in my pocket, and they'll occupy themselves for half an hour trying to find it, while I sneak in some CNN.
I found a program they like to watch on our big screen plasma TV. It's just a bunch of rodents running back and forth across the screen, but once I turn it on, they are glued to the screen until something else comes on. I usually plop them in front of the TV while I'm cleaning up after them. It's only being shown this week, but I'm willing to buy the DVD if it'll make my life easier.
I weighed Zoix today - 37 pounds, the size of a medium dog. Fluffy is 7 pounds.
June 4
Another trip to the emergency room today - not for Terry, for Zoix.
One of his favorite hobbies is bird-watching with Fluffy. Fluffy's tail twitches, and she makes this little warbling sound in her throat. I have to admit, it's pretty cute. When she was younger, she used to jump at the window and try to catch the birds. She's smarter now, but she still likes to watch.
Zoix is no smarter than he ever was. He bashed his head into the glass and got a nasty cut on his nose. The vet gave me a dirty look this time and stitched up the cut.
Am I at fault for every animal-related injury that happens in our house? What the heck am I supposed to do with a 40-pound lizard that is too dumb to observe the boundaries of a window?
June 21
It was my bright idea to suggest an overnight trip to Mackinac, and boy was I ever sorry. Jenni has come by to check on the animals while we took longer vacations, so I thought, "What could possibly go wrong?"
Nothing, I guess, if you count your sofa being ripped to shreds - at least, it was half ripped to shreds. The other half was completely missing. Thank God it was just one piece of furniture. The whole dang zoo was nesting in the stuffing when we walked in the front door, but we knew right away who had done it.
Even Terry had to admit that was a naughtier-than-average trick, and she didn't take any pictures. She rushed out right away to buy some of those kitty nail tips that protect your furniture from scratching, but apparently they don't come in 62-pound lizard size. Big surprise.
I refuse to buy a new sofa. This is where I put my foot down. She can have a sofa, or she can have the animal that likes to eat sofas.
Oh, did I forget to mention? Terry knows he's not a bird or a lizard. She spent three hours at the library last Saturday, and when I went to pick her up she was in the section with the dragon books. When she saw me looking at her book cover, she shoved it back onto the shelf real fast and gave me a look that says, "Let's never speak of this."
July 1
The new sofa was delivered today, and guess who was the first one to jump up on it? When Terry went to the bathroom, I warned Zoix that I would have to do something very bad to him if he messed up our new sofa. I think he got the message, because he hung his head and slunk off to the upstairs bedroom. That's where he hides when he's in trouble.
July 2
Wrong again. Shortly after Zoix dragged himself upstairs, where I thought he was going to sleep off his shame, I heard a series of crashing sounds coming from the bathroom. Zoix was bawling his head off, so I knew it couldn't be good.
I raced up the stairs and almost broke my neck hydroplaning down the hardwood floor in the hallway. Just before I got to the bathroom, Zoix staggered out with the toilet bowl on his head. Apparently, he had ripped the whole dang thing off the wall while trying to drink from it.
It took Terry and me almost an hour to calm him down and free his head. Then he really did go hide in the closet for the rest of the night.
I don't care how much Terry like's wood floors, we're getting carpet next time. And I am NOT cleaning up the next mess he makes. Absolutely NOT.
July 6
Today the kitchen caught fire while Terry was making mac-and-cheese. I was outside trimming, and I heard her scream. When I ran into the house she was huddled in the corner with the fire extinguisher pointed at Zoix. There was white chemical stuff all over the counters and the windows - and Zoix.
I put him out in the back yard to romp in the sprinkler while I helped her clean everything up. What a disaster. We're going to have to have new tile and sub-flooring, and all the cabinets are going to have to be refaced, if not replaced. The curtains were totally burnt off, and the window frame is melted. The butcher's block is even too charred to keep. Thank goodness the marble survived.
I didn't dare to ask how it happened, but Terry wouldn't go near Zoix the rest of the night. Later, I heard her crying on the phone with her crazy brother, but I couldn't hear what they were saying through the bedroom door.
Poor thing. It must be pretty awful to finally realize your favorite pet is a monster.
July 7
Terry surprised me by getting out of bed early today to take care of the animals herself. When I went downstairs to scold her, because she's not supposed to be doing that yet, she was standing in the family room staring up at the ceiling. There were hunks of what looked like wood and other construction debris on the floor around her.
I must have looked up at the hole for a full minute wondering "When did we get a skylight in here?"
Then I realized that we did not, in fact, have a skylight in the family room. Zoix, the obvious culprit, was nowhere in sight.
"They ran away," Terry said in a dreamy sort of voice.
I asked: "Who?"
"Zoix and Mega," she said.
I've never been so simultaneously relieved and angry about anything in my life. But I tried to be sympathetic. I said, "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry," and I put my arm around her.
In the back of my mind, I was thinking something more like this: Yeah, Zoix ran away, all right, and he took Mega with him.
But Mega probably only wished she was running away.
Chris Africa is a veteran writer, editor, and Web site developer. For more information about Chris, browse her personal web site, Parola Scritta. Feel free to contact her at either of her e-mail addresses: baiewola@yahoo.com or editor@ultraverse.us
About the Artist: Alan F. Beck, Artist, Illustrator. Award winning artist participating in art shows across the country, producing paintings, magazine illustrations and book covers. Style of work is Science Fiction, Fantasy and Surrealistic in nature. In addition to using traditional materials, some pieces are produced using acrylics, watercolor & pastels combined with digital media. His carbon-based life form can be found in Brooklyn, NY. His silicon-based presence resides at www.alanfbeck.com.
Story © Chris Africa; artwork © Alan F. Beck
Ultraverse e-zine of science fiction and fantasy is Copyright 2003-2005 Parola Scritta and Chris Africa.
All stories, artwork and articles published in this e-zine are copyrighted by their creators, with limited publication rights given to Ultraverse. All other rights are reserved by the author or artist. Distribution without permission is a violation of copyright law.