literature

100 Ways to Feel: #91-95

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91. I (214)

He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment where his "I"s became "we"s. Overnight it seemed that he went from "when I take over the world!" to "once we have the world, Pinky!"

Long before he'd realized he'd fallen in love with his cagemate, the change had occurred. It had been seamless, and he could no longer imagine not including the blue-eyed mouse in his declarations. Shortly after that, the idea of "their" castle came into existence, and the notion that he and his friend would not be together at the end of it all was ridiculous. Of course they'd be together. They were always together.

Being married only made the "we" more obvious. In the rare instances where he'd forget and only think in "I"s made his stomach twist painfully before he realized what he'd done. Exclude what had always been included.

He felt Pinky sit beside him, lean against him and tangle their tails together. Their shadows melded and Brain was struck by the thought that he hadn't been an "I" for a very long time. Before and after Snowball, always before Pinky. Turning his head, he looked into his husband's lovely eyes, already on him and shining big and bright, and wondered if he'd ever thought in "I" before "we".

92. Zest (318)

His machine was powered by citric acid, as it was more affordable than any other type of fuel, and he would now be able to successfully market this ingenious alternative energy to win the public over and take over the world by taking over big oil! Yes!

So he placed Pinky in charge of collecting copious amounts of lemon zest, as it was the simplest way to harness the energy, an went to work on developing a campaign for his new product. The Brain rubbed his palms together, smirking to himself. Whoever controlled the world's fuel supply controlled the world, after all. Everyone was far too dependent on their technology and powering it. There was simply no way this plan could fail.

It did fail though. He'd been too impatient to grow his lemon and orange tress naturally and devised a fertilizer to grow them at a rapid rate, but it altered the genes in the fruits and rendered them worthless, as well as seeped into the soil to ruin the next several crops he'd attempted in order to salvage the scheme. He sighed; perhaps he'd take on GMOs for a later plan. They really did ruin things.

"Look, Brain! We still have some lemons left!" Pinky chirped, rolling them over to his husband.

The megalomaniac eyed them, then gave one of them a pat. "I suppose, as the saying goes, when life gives you lemons-"

"You eat them!" Pinky already had one cut open and bit into it, his face immediately puckering as the sour taste coated his tongue and squirted his eyes.

It was a good thing he could count on Pinky to help him forget the ruin of his plans. Brain cupped his cheeks and wiped away the lemon juice, then kissed him to ease the severity of his puckered lips. "You could, my dear, but I believe lemonade would be a more palatable alternative."

93. Tears (567)

A lot of the grown-ups were saying something was wrong with him. He was pretty sure they were just con-fused. He felt fine. He kept telling all of them that, because the more you believed something, the more true it was! At least that's what he believed and it seemed like a rather nice thing to believe in. Like feck.

Maybe he'd lost his feck and that's why he wasn't growing the way he was pretty sure he was supposed to. Feck was very important after all. He didn't know what it was, but it was important. So he would just have to find it if it was lost. It was definitely somewhere in the castle; he'd never really gone anywhere else. Sometimes he and Bay went on adventures, but he was pretty sure he always had his feck when he was with Bay. Except now that is.

Then his daddy tried to take him away, to somewhere far away and Mr. Dr. Roddy was coming with them because where they were going was supposed to make him better. "No, it won't. I need to find my feck and I know it's not there," he tried explaining, but only some of the grown-ups actually listened to what he said. "How could it be? I've never been there! Zort!"

When he found out he'd be going without Bay, he put up even more of a fuss. They never went anywhere without each other ever! It was unacceptable! And intolerant! "You're all intolerant!" he cried until they sat him down and showed him what was wrong. There was something wrong in his brain (not his Brain, his heart kept telling him, nothing was wrong with his Brain) and it needed to come out or bad things would happen. He thought of the two stones under the pretty globe flowers and roses in their garden when they said bad things. It was the look in his parents' eyes, even his happy mummy's, and he remembered saying a long time ago: "Oh, Brain, wouldn't it be fun to grow old together all over again?"

If he went to the fancy hospital, he asked if he would get better for sure. No one except Mr. Dr. Roddy would tell him the truth. Maybe.

After he agreed to go, he ran all through the castle and out into the garden and past the gates and to an old place that he'd never once been to before, but knew. Pinny stared down into the dark water, watching his reflection ripple. Tears trickled down his cheeks and plipped into the river. Maybe he'd find his feck. Only a maybe.

Wouldn't it be fun to grow old together all over again?

If they didn't, he would feel like the worst husband ever. It had been all his idea after all. They could've been happy. Happy watching their family. Happy loving it. But if the maybe wasn't a happy yes, then Bay would be alone. And Bay couldn't be alone.

"Why did you ponder it?" he asked the water, filling more with his tears.

The tall, lanky mouse in his reflection didn't say anything.

But the real, pink-eyed one standing on the bridge beside him did. "Come, Pinky."

"Right, Brain." The answer was automatic. Wet, blue gaze lifted to look at the love of his life and then his cheeks were cupped and the tears brushed away.

94. Building (264)

She'd only been trying to help. Brain's lawnmower just didn't look quite right, it had been missing a few little parts and wouldn't he be proud if she'd fixed them for him all by herself? Of course... she hadn't realized he wasn't building a lawnmower and that it was really a machine that magnetized things until it was in pieces on the counter.

Cici blinked at the mess, the wrench propped up over her shoulder as she surveyed the damage. A little gear rolled by her and she watched it until it spun in a circle and flattened by Brain's feet. No one could've missed the crash she'd instigated.

Lifting her gaze shyly, she smiled weakly at him despite the fury plain on his face. It was already past eight o'clock, already past her bedtime as well. Brain's gaze flicked to the wrench she held and the girl dropped it instantly, kicking it behind her as if she'd never had the thing to begin with. His brow furrowed further and her shoulders hunched up in an attempt to make herself smaller.

For a few minutes, neither said anything.

"Umm..." Cici finally piped up, hands clasped in front of her. "I was only trying to help...?"

Brain pointed at the cage, his expression never wavering, and the four-month-old sighed and started to slowly trod towards it. Until he gave her ear a flick and she gave a squeal-like gasp and dashed off like a bullet. Shaking his head and rolling his eyes, Brain set about picking up the mess and to prepare for tomorrow night.

95. Optimistic (423)

"Dear Mr. Hals-Timers... hello! First I would like to introduce myself. I'm Pinky! And I'm the husband of the best mouse ruler of the world ever! Narf! Anyway, that is what I would like to talk to you about. Oh, not the world. Poit. My husband. You see, everyone keeps saying that Brain (that's my hubby) has you, Mr. Hals-Timers, but quite frankly, I think they've got it all mixed up. I think you're the one who has Brain. Troz. Because I've never seen you around our castle, but I'm starting to see less of Brain everyday... I don't like that very much, Mr. Hals-Timers, as I'm sure you can understand if you had a husband or wife, so I would really app... apprec... hmm... Cici!"

His oldest daughter poked her head around from Brain's side of the library to look inside his. "What is it, mommy?"

"How do you spell 'appreciate'?" Pinky asked, hugging his over-sized pencil close, the scrawled piece of paper in front of him already filled with illegible scribbles and misspellings. "I can't find my special spell-checker anywhere... poit."

As patient and accepting as ever, Cici went to his side and told him how to spell it, even if he did it completely wrong anyway. "What are you writing, mommy?"

"A letter to Mr. Hals-Timers asking to give Brain back please," he told her matter-of-factly, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth as he concentrated really hard on the next sentence, so he missed how sad his baby snow mouse looked for a moment before she chased the clouds away.

"That's a great idea, I'm sure he doesn't get very many letters." She carefully picked her words, not wanting to dash her mommy-daddy's optimism, but not wanting to give him false hope either.

"I think he's lonely," Pinky agreed. "That's why he's taking Brain away, he only wants some company. And Brain is lovely company after all." He glanced up from his letter to smile reassuringly at her, like a mummy was supposed to. "Once he sees that Brain already has someone who really, really wants him, he'll have to give all those parts he took from him back. I mean, poit, you can't just take someone's husband away and not feel bad. It's intolerant."

Cici stroked his ear and nodded, determined to sit with him through the duration of the letter. When he was ready to send it off, she helped him address it and they handed it to Paul who would take care of it.

Next up: Thrilled, Dealing, Reflect, Embarrassment, Death
© 2012 - 2024 cutcrescentheart
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VeganAspergiangurl's avatar
So adorable! Cici is awesome!