*"Time will tell."*

This bitch gon’ talk forever, Time says.

I dipped my head down, scratching my head against my knee in a nervous tick while I tried not to pay her ass any mind (No, look—she was literally talking to herself, like she just couldn’t help it, like she just needed to—to keep spewing words—). I growl-gurgled and you chuckled except I don’t think skunks do that, I think they just kinda…I dunno, squeal or something to themselves, but you were doing that while you swept the dust and the shards.

We knocked them in a pile at the end of the cave—that place where I had laid, that faint impression of two mingled scents being buried under a blanket of shimmering crystal. We packed it tight and I looked at you and couldn’t stop a little smile from forming. “Awgh, gee,” I muttered; your black and white fur was covered with dust and crystal shards so that you looked like some fluffy, frizzy disco ball. “C’mere,” I said, reaching for you with my lips; you gnawed against the bridge of my nose as I lipped the shards out of your coat, nipping and licking them out of the tangles. “Fart in my face an’ I cut you,” I warned between teeth full of shards; you just kept nibbling at my face, all fake-ferocious ‘n stuff, and I knew we were at an understanding.

Finished?, I heard from somewhere off to my side, and the smile fell and the hard shit in my eyes rose back up as I cast her a look. She had eyes—couldn’t she see the shit I’d done, that it was done, that it was time to leave me the fuck alone? Like--jeez, what she even want with me? Why did she keep talking to me like this? How the fuck could she not tell that I was so sick of her ass?

Nah, really though.

And my intentions were to shove past her—carry my ass up to the surface—leave her in the dust and the dark. Boom. There. All my problems solved, all the shit taken out of the situation. Done with her ass and kicked to the curb.

What actually happened, though, was that you moved before I could act on my brilliant plan; you waddled your short fluffy ass towards the long-legged filly-thing, laying down before her, at her hooves, splayed like a pile of loose fur as you gazed up at her with beady, liquid eyes. “Cheeeek,” I groaned with that surge of aggravation, cuz I knew exactly what you were doing— what you wanted me to do—cuz you were deciding for the both of us a thing I was trying so fucking hard to ignore: no, I’m not done here yet.

So I sighed and there was a growl in there and I approached her and stood just behind your fluffy tail as it twitched and dragged on the ground (you were kinda really digging this form). I bit my—no, I didn’t bite my lip, cuz that would keep my from talking and the faster I got this shit out of my system the sooner I’d be done in a cavern that fucked with me way too often.

“My name…” I started--god I hated introducing myself, but I shoved it out anyway, scooped the sticky shit out of my throat and spewed it at her, “Name’s Ros. And he’s Chico.” There it was again—that smug air coming off of you in waves whenever I gave people the name that wasn’t truly yours. Ugh fuck off forever.

“…what’s yours?” Uuuuuuugh jeez.




"talk"

Quit Hollerin' "Why God?", he ain't got shit to do with it.