Chapter 26, "In Which We Get a Letter"
The thing about horrible tragedies is that no one really knows how to interact with each other once they're over with. No one knows when the right times to be happy are, because if you're too happy and it's not the right time then you're an insensitive jerkwad. This got pointed out to me by Klaxie on several occasions, but to my credit, I had no idea that inviting him to roast marshmallows would remind him of Monica.
I spent a lot of time at the Haberdashes', because we decided that if Mr. Haberdash was crazy, and Lou was about to be crazy, there was no need to live in plywood splendor when we could cohabitate with awesome people (and an army of robots).
This required making room for us. The Haberdashes' had a billion rooms, but they were all full of things. So Christopher and I were clearing out a room full of sand dollars from the shores of various planets. This was to be my room. I am certain the fact that it was right next to Christopher's had nothing to do with anything.
"This was dad's favorite," Christopher lamented chagriningly, removing a giant pink sand dollar framed in gold from the wall. Her face did this weird thing it had been doing a lot recently. She looked sad, but also like she was trying to not look sad.
"No offense, Christopher, but didn't your dad not really like you?" I pointed out.
She glared at me a little. "That doesn't mean I didn't want him to."
I felt like I should do something for her, something nice, because she was always so nice to me, so I patted her on the shoulder and said, "Maybe he will now that he can't think clearly."
She sniffed and rubbed her nose. "Do you really think so?"
"I really maybe think so."
This seemed helpful, and I felt proud of myself for doing something so nice and uncrappy.
Hector 2.0 clanked into the room behind us. "Lou's room is emptied and ready for furniture insertion," he said.
Christopher held up her hand for an affirmative high five. Hector 2.0 reciprocated with great roboticism.
"Also," he continued metallically, "there was a letter in the mail." He held the letter out to Christopher. She took it. She held it for a moment, probably thinking about how white and rectangular it was. I know that's what I was thinking.
And then she stopped thinking it, and used her hands to open it. She then used her eyes to read it. I took note of this, in the event that I should ever get a letter in the mail.
"What does it say?" I asked.
"It's from the Blobbersons."
"The Blobbersons? Why are they writing you a letter?"
"They are big and bad," Christopher explained sensitively. "They can do whatever they want."
"Good point," I agreed.
She read further, and then made an angry noise. "They say that they have Lou's pets."
I felt a sense of alarm at this. "What? Why?"
"Because," she read from the page, "'We do not approve of these alien dating a human shenanigans. Friggen' Gorgeous must be a girl-slave within two Earth months if you ever want to see your precious creatures ever again.' Oh, and they signed it 'Bwahahahaha, The Blobbersons.'"
I sat down on the floor, making good use of my butt. "Can we get them back?"
"Probably," Christopher said.
"Our resources are severely depleted," Hector 2.0 mentioned.
"Listen, Frig," Christopher grabbed my shoulders, "I just don't want you to be a girl-slave. I don't. I like Lou and I like his pets and all, but not at the expense of your brain."
I looked into her eyes, and she seemed sincere enough, but my heart felt other things. "Christopher, Monica is dead because of everyone trying to protect my brain."
"Yes, but your brain is still in tact! We did a good job!"
"Mission successful," Hector 2.0 added.
I sighed. "I just don't think I want to launch a big battle against the Blobbersons. I think I just want to be Xlormp's girl-slave and be done with it."
Christopher's face fell. Hector 2.0 made some comment about robotic sadness.
Mr. Haberdash stuck his head through the doorway. "We are playing charades with the muskrats downstairs, would you like to hold the pudding?"
Christopher's face tightened.
Hector 2.0 scratched his robot head. "Your statement does not compute, father."
I heard Lou's voice from behind him. "I'll hold the pudding, Haberdash. Let's go." He led the confused Mr. Haberdash down the hall. The interlude stung with the reminder of Lou's own pending brain function loss.
"If I'm a girl-slave, maybe I won't miss Lou so much."
"Maybe you won't do anything but beep," Christopher snarked. "And then we won't be able to talk to each other ever again and you'll forget about me because you'll only be thinking about that slime factory of an alien." She took a deep breath and crossed her arms in front of her chest.
"It sounds like you might be upset with my decision," I considered stoically.
Hector 2.0 nodded. "Astute," he said.
"But it's my choice, Christopher. And I say I don't want anyone else to have any needless crappy stuff happen to them when I already figured a billion years ago that I want to be with Xlormp until my brain leaks out of my ears."
Christopher did not smile, but she nodded. "And then some," she spat, leaving the room.
I felt sadness in my spleen. Or maybe that was my liver? I couldn't really tell where these feelings were happening. Maybe I should buy an anatomy book. Anyway, I needed a hug, so despite my better judgment, I grasped Hector 2.0's robot waist and squeezed.
He patted me on the head. "Your brain is wonderful to me," he said with monotony. I forced myself not to tear up pathetically.
Oh my goodness, guys. I need all of the Good Writing Juju you can muster. I've got a bad case of the "I-Don't-Wannas" and only two chapters left to battle 'em. HELP ME.