Kikimora’s Mistake

It was a week before Christmas. The neighbors had set up their Christmas lights early in increasingly extravagant attires. Some opted to have a wreath as large as a monster truck tire to ordain their garages. Others lined their houses with flashing lights of nostalgic patterns of red and green with an animatronic Santa to greet them by the chimney. And some even go as far as to outfit their entire home in Christmas spirit, their abode glowing a warm, pale light, so inviting and gentile.

My good friend’s house was however bare, neither a single ornament nor light was to be seen. It’s perfectly understandable, how can one start if everyone in the house is so busy with their own affairs? But tonight they have time, his parents are off work and his sister finished studying, ready to start preparing the festivities. If only I knew now I might not have to be in this humiliated state. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Anon and I had studied together in his living room, me teaching him the concepts of physics, and him teaching me to appreciate government systems. Useless thing, it’s all about making other people miserable for their own selfish gain, why anyone finds that realm fascinating I’ll never truly know. Although I will admit, when he says physics to him is moon speak that is difficult for its own sake, I understand his frustrations at a lack of understanding. Oh the irony was rich.

“Wait a minute, so why don’t I need to find ‘U initial and U final’ in this equation?”

“Because, ‘U’ in this case isn’t going up or down. We’re not gaining any more potential energy; we’re going in a straight line right after the block slides down the ramp. Since ‘y’ doesn’t change, we can cancel both variables out in the equation.”

“Okay, I think. Umm, anyways it’s your turn. Ask me anything.”

“What is Stare Decisis again? I swear for some reason I keep mixing up court terms with bureaucracy terms. And for that matter why do you keep saying that Regulation isn’t always a beneficial? Shouldn’t helping others be a good thing?”

“It’s the idea of precedent. If a case is brought to a judge and it seems to be similar to another previous case, they’ll simply rule the case in question the same as the previous one. It saves time for the judge who has to oversee multiple rulings of very similar cases. I get that helping others is your thing. But it doesn’t always work when it’s government. Sometimes the market doesn’t need the government to see if the businesses are treating people fairly, the people do it themselves. How? Just by their wallets. If their products or services suck, no one’s going to buy anything from them. Regulations are sometimes too much, handicapping us when other countries don’t have as many hoops to jump through. And sometimes it kills jobs because the business would much rather fire the people to make up profit, which drives up prices, and then no one would buy those products and then more get fired.”

“That just sounds like excuses a business man would make to not care for his workers.”

“That could be completely true, to an extent. But in the exam she expects you to understand the material, or at least remember it. She’s not asking you to like it, just remember it.”

“Fine. I’ll keep it in mind.”

It was that very moment I spotted a dish rack with plates, knives and mixing bowls stacked on to each other like a junk pile. Then I started to pick up a rancid scent. Without even thinking I walked over to their garbage bin and saw it full of rotting shrimp, with discolored gray sauce still clinging onto the curled up flesh heap. When I took a step into the guest restroom, it seemed to be perfectly fine, but then I felt dirt grains rolling along my toes. To me, finding an unclean thing after messy bit, it was the same feeling you have when you look at a painting and everything seems fine, then you find a fault, and another and another and another until you just want to take a brush and fix it all yourself.

So I did.
“Anon?”

“Yeah May?”

“Would you mind if I start cleaning, the place here that is.”

“Sure, go ahead I don’t see why not.”

“Thank you.”

At that one moment where I started to wash my hands to start I heard something, ‘maybe it’s just my imagination’ I thought to myself and continued to clean.  I started to dry and put away the pile of dishes on the rack, as that would be the fastest thing for me to do. Sometimes when I had Anon over I ask him to help, and he tries his earnest. But he is so noisy. He makes a clatter so loud you worry if he shattered a plate or two. And washing, oh my. Everything he washes does come out clean and proper, and then we have to mop the dirty water that he spilled off the floor. I don’t blame him though, for my kind it comes naturally. I don’t even have to look at my hands half the time. I still do, don’t want to hurt myself after all. It took a bit of time, especially since I didn’t want to make a mistake, but it wasn’t too bad.

Then I started to vacuum the dining room rug. Poor old thing, I see it’s been taken care of but even so, you can start to see the distinct earthy patterns lose their shape. The least I could do was rid it of crumbs and debris.  And afterwards a dry glob of chocolate spread too. I’d chastise anyone who didn’t notice such a large chunk of dry spread nearly glued to the floor, but this is Anon’s home, and that would be rude.

Next was the oven. That scorched, small, hindrance that took me a solid hour of scraping. But no, there were two of them, one to cook big meals and a breakfast oven. The larger one was surprisingly easier to clean, just a few swipes with a folded up paper towel and degreaser did the trick. But the smaller, breakfast oven that devoured most of my evening. I wrapped my feathers tightly to my arms to keep them from being soiled from the work, and still they were covered in a layer of a thick, black substance. Just by tapping the oven on its side caused charred chunks of whatever was in there to fall off its walls. Even after I scraped the black gunk off the walls there was still the screen and the grill. The grill was easier; I just needed a dirty spoon to tear off the dried rubbish that clung on tightly to the metal rods. The screen was the worst. I tried everything in the house from glass cleaners to general detergents; all I could manage was a fog that anyone could notice.
But as I know all too well, if something doesn’t work right now, try again later, so I set off to sweeping the house and replacing the trash bag, didn’t take too long.

By the time it was all over what was once an evening bathed in orange became a night cloaked in a monotone black. Despite the surprising amount of time it took, I felt accomplished, at least for a brief moment. Anon’s mother came inside, and she wasn’t happy with me. I could sense it, her feelings of hate were palpable in a way only a mother could. She didn’t talk to me at first; all she did was prepare dinner. Despite my instincts I decided to talk to her to ease the atmosphere.

“Mrs. Fletching, is something the matter?”

“You didn’t help us.”

“Excuse me?”

“You didn’t help us set up the Christmas lights. You were in here doing who knows what while we were calling for you to help us. You just wanted to be lazy didn’t you?”

“But Mrs. Fletching, I don’t mean to offend, but I haven’t done such a thing. For the entire evening I was cleaning the house-"

“It doesn’t take that long and we’ve could’ve done that later. You just didn’t want to help us. It’d be fine if you came outside, even if you couldn’t give much assistance, because at least it shows us that you care. I swear I have no idea where Anon finds people like you.”

Anger swelled in me, this, this indignation. How dare she call me lazy and inconsiderate?! This entire evening I’ve been cleaning and helping Anon out with his studies, and she acts as if I desecrated her home with dirty shoes and wasting her time. I wanted to shout, to yell, but I couldn’t muster any action, a lonely voice in my head reminded me that arguing with her is like arguing against a mistress, something you cannot do. But at the same time I wasn’t going to apologize for doing something good. So I compromised and took my study materials to the dining room, since the living room was taken by Mr. Fletching and Anon’s sister, watching some trashy thriller. Mrs. Fletching wouldn’t have any of it.

“We’re going to be using that table to eat soon.”

I didn’t even verbally respond, I simply drifted to Anon’s room to study. Anon himself was reading, what a bad poker face. I knew he heard, and I know he couldn’t speak out. Yet I still felt mad that he didn’t defend me, even knowing that anger was misplaced.

We didn’t talk afterwards, not even to ask each other question. For me I might as well been alone in that room.
I had dinner with his family, and no one looked me in the eye, they simply minded their own business. I asked to wash their
bowls, but they all did so themselves. By the time dinner was over I excused myself to the nearest bus stop.

“May, wait! Please.”

Anon was at the bus stop, completely ragged.

“You forgot your binder.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“I’m, sorry, for the way my mom acted.”

“It’s, fine. See you later Anon. Good luck on the physics exam.”

“See you later May.”

And Anon surprised me; he actually went for a hug. He missed and nearly banged his head on the bench, but it gave me a laugh.
“Not funny.”

“I believe it is. Ha ha ha. Thank you Anon."


And then I was on my way home. The Christmas lights pepper the houses and shopping districts, all being cheerful and happy, or at least trying to be.