Wa, u, uwaaa.
Wa, u, uwaa.
Wa, u, uwaaaaaa.
...
... ...
... ... ...
... Tch, damn cicadas. Having a natural alarm clock is nice and all,but it would be even nicer if we could negotiate on a certain time for them to start to synchronize so loudly.
...
"Somehow, I don't see that happening anytime soon."
While I laid there contemplating various methods for communicating with insects- in vain, I might add, something catches my eye... Oh, it's a person. Hi there, person.
...
Pleasantries aside, why is there a person in my room, and why does my... Head... Ah. That's right, last night, she called me and asked if I had any plans. I did not. She came over... I suspect alcohol was involved at one point. She looks awfully familiar... Oh well, not important right now. I would like to know where she got that shirt, though... It looks so strikingly similar to my white dress shirt.
"Good morning."
I greet her with a groggy wave and a yawned greeting.
"Ufufu, good morning... You sure are a heavy sleeper, you know that?"
I did not, actually. Granted, I do have my own private orchestra to rouse me up in the mornings, however their synchronized humming would probably pale in comparison to someone trying to physically wake me up, and judging by the high pitch of that voice of hers... She's staring at me. Hm... OH! Of course,
"Hm...?"
"Inner monologue, my bad"
"Meh, I'm used to it. It's amusing to watch, if nothing else... Oh, lunch is almost ready. You should get dressed"
I did not know I was naked. However, a quick look down should... Ah, well what do you know.
"Yeah, I'll be there in a minu- wait, lunch?"
"What time do you think it is?"
I look out the open window. Looking past the screen to keep pesky blood-suckers out, I take in the scenery. Green. Beautiful green carpeting the ground. Large brown spires rising up (upon which I suspect my musical friends are perched), more green, and blue... A clear blue sky. Ah, but this is good. Ok, going by the shadow of that brown spi- ... of that tree... The angle that it's at... Pointing...
I turn back to her.
"Daytime."
I reply, with a straight face.
"Get dressed."
She responds to my reply with an equally straight face, and walks off to... Well, I would assume the kitchen.
Ok, ok, getting up... Didn't I wear these yesterday? ... Does it matter?
I decided no, and was soon dressed in the blue jean shorts and "I <3 NY" t-shirt, making my way to the door, I-
Oh, by the way, I've never been to New York.
Now, to the door and-
A sudden feeling of vertigo, followed by a much stronger sense of my face slamming into the door frame.
It would appear that I have tripped.
While checking to see if my nose was bloodied (it wasn't), I turn to see the perpetrator of this heinous act of sabotage, and it would appear to be a shirt. A tank top, to be specific. Rolled up on the floor, next to a pair of panties.
"Well, I guess I don't have to ask her where she got that dashing shirt now."
No, more importantly is her tank top. It is behaving oddly... And by that, I mean it is moving. Or, it appears to be moving... Either no one bothered to inform me of a major breakthrough in clothing technology, resulting in clothing that hangs itself up, or...
I life up the tank top, and out roles a puppy.
Well, not just "a" puppy. My puppy.
"Ah, good morning, Lain... Really, you chose the shirt? I mean, the panties are right there... Well, you are a girl after all, I guess it wouldn't appeal to you all that much."
Mouth agape, lightly panting, she, Lain, gives me her utmost attention, and replies with a yawn.
"Your not a morning person either, are you? ... Well, it isn't morning, apparently, but... Yeah..."
While considering adding a time piece of some sort to my room, I make my way to the kitchen, Lain in tow.
"What was that sound just now?"
"Collision."
"Between?"
"Matter."
"Better than it would have been if anti-matter were involved, at least. You ok?"
"Probably. Smells nice."
"Thank you, you had some Portobello mushrooms in the fridge, so I-"
"I was talking about you, not the soup."
Although the soup did smell quite nice.
She smiles, her cheeks turning a faint pinkish tint. So cute.
"I haven't even showered yet, idiot..."
"That explains the fragrance."
"Pervert."
"Sadist."
"Masochist."
"Tomboy."
"Eat."
"Ok."
And thus ended our usual morn- er, evening? Exchange.
With that, I can now confirm that this is, indeed, my girlfriend.
I probably knew that this morning, but you can never be to careful. Can't rule out a doppelganger or something of the sort... She did mention anti-matter... Maybe I should avoid touching her just in case... Although, if that were the case, I'm fairly certain that I would have caught on to the ruse last night. Judging by the rope burns on my wrist, and the bite marks on her thighs, it is safe to assume that physical contact came into the picture at some point.
"Delicious... As usual."
Sitting across the table from me, she grins, running her slim, pale white fingertips along the petal of a flower in the vase center table.
"It's just mushroom soup."
"Oh, but I disagree. 'Tis not just mushroom soup. It is mushroom soup made by you. Thus, I dare say, it rivals the manna of heaven itself!"
I declare, taking another spoonful of the delicious manna into my mouth.
"Sit down."
Apparently, I was so moved by the taste, that I had stood up.
"Hm... Did you, by chance, add your "special ingredient."
"... Your strange, you know that?"
"You'll have to be more specific."
"Most people would not be very pleased if someone spit in their food- much less drooled at least a tablespoon of saliva into their meal... I'd bet money that you got that idea from some Manga or something."
"Such a Mysterious accusation, and coming from my Girlfriend, no less."
"Why do I get the feeling that those words hold some significance?"
"Just your imagination. So, did you?"
She stares at me for a moment, and sighs in resignation.
"... I did."
"Thus explaining the delicious taste."
"... Pervert..."
"Talking to yourself isn't healthy, you know."
At least, that's what they say, but I suppose I'm not much one to talk.
"And swallowing the bodily fluids of other people is?"
"Tasting the dew that forms within your mouth does no more damage to my psyche than does tasting the dew that condenses on your fragrant flower."
"I wasn't talking about psychological health."
"Unless you regard holding conversations with yourself as a physical ailment, then we're still talking about psychology."
"..."
"..."
Scooping up the last spoonful, I take extra time savoring the taste, the texture, and the thought of what was mixed into it.
"That was good."
I say, removing myself from the table, spooning a bit more soup into the bowl and setting it on the ground.
"Eat up, Lain."
"So, have you thought about it?"
"I have, actually. I've been thinking hard about it all morning."
"... Really? Well, let's hear it, then."
"Not possible."
"... What? Why? Give me one damn reason."
"Well, the language barrier, for one."
"What the HELL does that have to do with it!?"
"If I cannot determine how to communicate with them, then my pleas will fall on deaf ears, and it will look like I am just talking to a tree again."
While wondering if Cicadas have ears, she slams her hand on the table, forcefully enough to rattle the flowers in the vase, and more then loud enough to send Lain running into the other room.
"I'M TALKING ABOUT YOUR JOB, DAMMIT! Why, WHY, can you not have a serious conversation for once? ... And what the hell do Cicadas have to do with... ANYTHING!?"
It would appear that we have a breakdown in communication... Not between me and the Cicadas, but between me and the woman standing before me.
"Apologies, I assumed you were talking about something else."
"I'm sure."
"I have money."
"It will run out."
"Not for a while."
"All the more reason that you should be looking for work BEFORE that happens!"
"Could you please not yell? Your frightening Lain, and my head-"
"WHAT THE HELL ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO DO!? I'VE TRIED TALKING WITH YOU ABOUT THIS, AND IT OBVIOUSLY HASN'T DONE SHIT! WHY THE HELL DO YOU THINK I LEFT? IT SURE AS HELL WASN'T FOR A VACATION!"
Bu your back now, of your own accord it seems. And yelling. Again with the yelling, again with the slamming of the hands- which by now are more balled up fists. Aaand... There goes the vase.
With a thunk, it falls over, and rolls to the edge of the table, I watch as it rolls, she keeps her eyes on me... Crash.
"..."
"..."
"Lain, come here."
I raise my voice for the first time this morning, not in an angry tone, but in a searching one, urging her out of hiding.
"Look, I'm sor-"
"There you are, come here girl."
I pick up the sandy-brown colored pup, and head for the door.
"... How long will you be gone?"
Opening the door, a flare of sunlight catches my eye. It is bright, and warm. I step outside, lain in hand. I think she (not Lain) was saying something, but I wasn't paying much attention.
I make my way down the gravel driveway, the warm rocks heated up by the sun feel very nice on my bare feet.
"It's hot, huh... Lain, don't run around too much"
I say as I set her down.
And off she goes, scurrying off at an easy to match pace.
"Good girl"
Well, if I've established this much communication with a canine, then the cicadas might not be that difficult after all.
Wa, u, uwaaa.
Wa, u, uwaaa.
Wa, u, *sniff* uwaaa.
The sound of this wailing comes not from within the trees, but from within the house. I have a pretty safe bet to who the fever pitched voice belongs... My chest starts to hurt.
"Lain... Ah."
It seems I got distracted, Lain is now... There. She is walking around a wildflower bed.
"Come here girl, we should go back... Too..."
Smell. Something smells... Good.
I look to my feet, to find the flowers. They look like some type of Lily. Petals white at the base, turning a light, pinkish hue farther up the petal... I kneel down and lightly pluck one. Placing it against my nose, I inhale deeply
"... Oh, it smells nice... Smells... Sweet... Hm? Lain, here, smell it"
I say, offering the flower to her nose, to which she takes a few sniffs of before biting off a petal and chewing it.
I tilt my head at a curious angle.
"Hm..."
Mimicking her, I take a bite of one of the petals.
Chew, chew, chew... Gulp.
"... It tasted... Well, it didn't."
I said, more then a bit disappointed.
"... Well, they smell nice, and they look pretty."
Bending down, dog in hand, flower in mouth (hers, not mine), I carefully pluck a few more before heading back to the house.
Chew, chew, munch... Gulp.
"... Disappointing."
I remark, before going back into the house.
She is sitting at the table, arms folded, head resting on top of them. Upon my entering, she immediately raises her head, before quickly rising.
"Look, I'm sorry. I know how you get around screaming, I should have-"
"For you."
I say, handing her the haphazardly arranged bouquet I had hidden behind my back.
"Wha- Ah... Those..."
Wiping her eyes against the sleeve of that dashing shirt, she takes the flowers, and takes in their fragrance, her cheeks flushing a similar tint to that of the petals.
"They smell wonderful... Oh? Um, it looks like one of them was... Bitten off?"
"Yeah, don't ask."
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