Bittyswap (part 22)
My version of Bittyswap involves full-sized bittybones (and other monsters) living in the Underground and getting miniature humans as pets.
My stomach churned with a mixture of worry and poor dietary decisions. Sure sugary cereal tastes good, but it’s hardly part of a complete breakfast (or dinner) unless you include the glass of orange juice and the muffin. I’d taken my saccharine shooters straight with only minimal milk to soften them, and my tummy couldn’t take the combination of dread and high fructose corn syrup. It staged a protest in the form of stabbing pains.
To make matters worse, as time passed the possibility of this being some minor incident dwindled away. Cherry, Cap, and I periodically exchanged glances, none of us wanting to voice the myriad of scenarios taking place in our minds, each one worse than the last. Cherry’s distressed whimpers called Lil Bro up from the basement like a heart wrenching beacon, and when the lanky skeleton joined us on our Couch of Misery, he actually stayed awake and upright.
“still not home?” he asked us softly. I’m sure Brassy’s signature stomping gait would’ve reverberated through the basement, so it was no surprise that Lil Bro knew he was missing. At Lil Bro’s words, Cherry finally lost his valiant battle to keep it together and burst into tears.. Lil Bro pulled Cherry into his lap, and I climbed into Cherry’s lap. The three of us huddled together like poorly proportioned matryoshka dolls with matching melancholy expressions.
Cherry’s sobs subsided into hiccups and eventually snores with still no Brassberry in sight. Cap drooled as he dozed off with his head at an awkward angle that I’m sure would be causing him some discomfort tomorrow. I wondered if the final member of our vigilant band of clock watchers would succumb to sleep as well, leaving me alone to mull over Brassy’s fate.
Should we go searching for Brassberry? By we I mean the skeletons because the snow outside would be above my head and I’m fairly certain that Brassberry wasn’t hiding out in the two or three square feet of snow drifts outside our door that I would be able to check before I froze to death. We, or rather they, could start at his sentry and fan out… except that monsters turn into dust when they die. If some fatal event had occurred, would we even find a trace of him?
The hour and the minute hands on the clock did their little shimmy and slide as they moved around each other like awkward coworkers who were both walking down a hallway going in the same direction but at different speeds. It came as no surprise to me that Lil Bro dozed off, but I was shocked when YanYan actually came downstairs to join our currently-on-break band of watchmen.
“I couldn’t sleep with every light in the living room blazing away, so I might as well join your little vigil,” YanYan explained, though I hadn’t asked about it and everyone else was asleep. I quickly translated his statement to: I am worried about Brassberry, and I would rather worry with company. I doubted YanYan would ever admit it though.
Without waking any of the other three skeletons, YanYan plucked me from Cherry’s lap and sat down in the chair, placing me on the armrest. He absently petted my hair, glaring icily at the door as it it were somehow blocking Brassy from returning. Oddly enough, the act of petting me proved to be relaxing for both of us. We faced the door together, a united front willing Brassberry to walk through the door with all of our collective might. Ok, my might may not have meant much, but YanYan made up for it by being an expert at getting what he wanted. I could practically feel the Dark Side of the Force radiating from him.
As if on cue, Brassberry staggered through the door. He didn’t have a scratch on him, but he still looked haggard and haunted like he’d been through a warzone. I wanted to say some mood lightening quip like “Wow, I’d hate to see the other guy,” but our resident clown beat me to it. I have no idea how Lil Bro managed to wake up at the exact moment that Brassy arrived, but he opened one socket and delivered my line.
“if you look like that, i’d hate to see the other guy,” he said somberly, letting the joke fall flat with no expectation of laughter. “what happened to you?”
Brassberry’s eyelights hadn’t left me since he stumbled through the door. His next words cut through me like the icy Snowdin wind:
“The King demanded a report from me. He wanted any information I had about the human!bittys,” Brassberry said, then collapsed from the stress and exhaustion of the monarch’s inquisition.
I was stunned into silence.
What had Brassy told the King about the human!bittys?
About me?
PREV | INDEX | NEXT