Chapter 7 - Family

Hands placed on his hips, Pyro stood inside the doorway of the familiar room before him. It was completely plastered and unfinished, with a low-set cathedral ceiling. The only pieces of furniture were the worn wooden desk and chair placed in the center of the room. Sickly pale light poured from the circular window on the far wall.

Pyro put his left hand against the small of his back, stretched upwards. and let out a deep sigh. The heat was stifling, but his white collared shirt breathed well, and his overalls were appropriately loose. Aside from the faint sound of birds chirping, the silence was absolute. His kids almost never bothered to come here. The view of the garden below was lovely when the little bastards weren't blowing shit up. The week had become increasingly frustrating, and now more than ever he needed some time to himself.

He quietly shut the door behind him, walked over, and sat down carefully in the chair. It groaned with weight and age. Pyro rolled up his shirt sleeves and wet his lips. He pulled the desks' drawer open and took out a short knife. He shut the drawer, placed the knife on the desk, unzipped the pouch around his waist, and produced a nice, plump potato.

Pyro held the object of beauty in front of him, stroking his goatee and nodding approvingly. It was indeed a fine specimen. He immediately set to work, carving it slowly and methodically. A small pile of shavings had begun to accumulate on the surface of the desk. Every cut had to be perfect - every movement precise and meaningful. Eventually he lost track of his surroundings. How long had he been sitting there? It didn't matter. Here and now, he was in his element. Here he could forget all of-

Something heavy crashed against the door. Pyro flinched and cut halfway through the vague carving. He cursed to himself, slamming his palms on the desk. The door swung open, and mondoux stumbled into view with a timid expression on his face. His brow was covered in sweat. One of the younger members of the family, he was somewhat taunted for being overweight. His short, dark hair was always kept neat, and his clothes were typically plain.

Pyro growled, "Th' bloody hell d'you think you're doin?!"

Mondoux stared at the floor. "S-sorry, Papa. I tripped and, um, f-fell."

"D'you have any idea that you've angered the Potato Gods? What will be of th' harvest this season! We'll have t' prepare an offerin to appease them now."

"What?"

Pyro sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just - nevermind. Why did you come up here?"

"Um, well..." Mondoux pulled a DS out of his pocket. Jagged cracks ran through the top screen. "It's broken, and....and I can't find Kitteh."

"Oh, waaah! What d'you want me t' do, call the IRA? Just wait until she shows up. It's not goin t' kill you if you can't play Pokemon for three hours."

Mondoux began to protest, but he stopped himself. He should have known better than to bother Papa when he was in his study. He quickly apologized and walked back into the hallway, leaving Pyro to stare solemnly at the misshapen pile in front of him.

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The foyer had seen its better days. It was certainly a place of beauty, once. What was left of the ornate wallpaper was peeling off. Cobwebs clung to the expensive-looking chandelier. The stained glass windows on the large double doors leading outside were faded. It had meant to be fixed up, but time and effort was always directed towards the constant destruction caused elswhere.

Mondoux plodded down the staircase and was surprised to see one of his siblings sitting on the ruined couch. His wavy, maroon hair was in desperate need of a comb. The tired bags under his eyes stood out against his pale complexion. His brown cardigan and cargo shorts looked like they had been through hell. As usual, he was writing on some piece of paper attached to a clipboard. Stacks of documents sat at his feet. He acknowledged mondoux with a quick glance upwards, then focused on his work.

Mondoux smiled a little. "Hi, Brad."

"No," he said absentmindedly, swatting his palm in mondoux's general direction. "It's not Brad anymore."

Mondoux thought for a moment. "Oh, that's right! Igzi - no, no - Boo. Could you-"

"Wrong again," he interrupted. "It's igi. Please, I don't have the time for this. Legally changing your name takes a lot of paperwork. I came here because there's nobody to bother me. Go play your little videogame or something."

Mondoux's shoulders slumped. "Please, Igi. I just-"

"I told you to go away! You're giving me a headache! And my name doesn't begin with a capital letter!"

"HOW CAN YOU EVEN TELL THE DIFFERENCE!!!" Mondoux kicked over a stack of igi's papers and ran outside. His heart was pounding in his chest. He slowed into a jog and looked behind him, smashing straight into Gir.

"Watch where you're fucking going, Chunk!" Gir shoved him into the dirt and strided on. Mondoux could hear laughter as the sound of footsteps faded. Tears started to stream down his cheeks as he picked himself up; a wave of white-hot anger swept through him.

He took out his DS, clutching it so hard that his hands shook. He almost threw it onto the ground before calming himself. If the damage was any worse than a broken screen, then no one would be able to fix it, and he would never see Tyranitar or Ninetails again.

He found that the courtyard was empty, except for Sam splayed out on a bench, clearly high off his ass. The grass was still wet from the storm that blew in earlier. He walked over to a large oak tree and sat down, sniffling to himself. It wasn't fair. What had he done to deserve this?

His train of thought was interrupted when a shadow suddenly loomed over him. He looked up to see Eldude, hands clasped behind her back. She wore a baby blue jacket with white stripes down the sides, complete with matching shorts. Mondoux wiped the tears off of his cheeks and swept back his hair. She was kind to him, and more importantly, she actually listened.

"Watcha doin?" Eldude beamed.

"Nothing, I guess," he mumbled as he rubbed at his eyes. "My game broke."

"That's too bad." Eldude sat down next to him and pulled her knees to her chest. "You were really far too, huh?"

"Yeah. I just got to the 7th gym." Mondoux looked up at the evening sky. A few wispy clouds hung low on the horizon, illuminated by the setting sun. "If you could be any Pokemon, which one would it be?"

Eldude twirled her bangs, seeming to seriously contemplate the question. She smiled complacently. "I would be that one that looks like a ferret. I've always thought they were cute. Plus my fur would be really soft and comfy." Mondoux laughed. "What's so funny?" She looked genuinely confused.

Still chuckling, he answered, "Nothing, it's just.....I never thought of it like that before." He lowered his eyes, and was silent for a moment. "I don't like it here. Everyone's a huge jerk; they don't even care about me. It used to be different. What happened?..."

"Yeah," she replied, stretching her feet out in front of her. "I know what you mean. But with all the teenage angst floating around, drama was bound to come up sooner or later. It's not all bad, you know."

Mondoux pushed himself up to stand. He opened his mouth to say something, but paused. "See you later." Eldude simply waved after him.

Making his way towards the manor, he saw that Sam had broken into a cold sweat. His limbs started flailing wildly as he rolled off of the bench.

"HOLY SHIT, THERE'S SPIDERS EVERYWHERE!" Sam continued to thrash around in the grass, frantically swiping at the air. Mondoux continued on without giving him a passing glance. "JESUS CHRIST, SOMEONE HELP! PLEASE! OH GOD, THEY'RE EATING ME! THE SPIDERS..."

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I wanna be the very best, like no one ever was
To catch them is my real test, to train them is my cause

Mondoux woke with a start. He sat upright in his bed, blinking and mumbling to himself. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was. After fumbling around a bit, he found his alarm clock and hit the snooze button. It blinked at him dutifully. Even going to bed early, 4:00 AM was an ungodly hour to get up. Nobody should be out of their rooms at this time of day.

Picking up his backpack full of clothes, water, and a lunchbox with sandwiches inside, mondoux quietly slipped into the hallway. His bedroom was all the way down from one of the foyer's entrances. The silence was unnerving as he tiptoed by his siblings' rooms. The door at the end of the hall swung open with little effort; the wooden stairs barely groaned as he delicately shuffled down them. Mondoux was feeling pretty confident by the time he stepped outside.

Everyone was so concerned with their own stupid problems, but they'd see once he ran away. That would show all the people that had been mean to him. They'd search everywhere and cry and beg for him to come home. He approached the main gate. It was locked; he had figured that much. The only thing to do now was to scale the wall on either side. It was a lot taller than he had thought, a little over twice his height. Nothing he couldn't handle.

Mondoux jumped up, trying to find something he could grab onto. Of course, a jump by fat person standards is pretty much standing on your toes and raising your arms, but it didn't matter either way. This was going to be harder than he thought. If only he had magic powers, or at least someone to help him. He hesitated for a moment, then flung his arms forward and yelled, "Thunderbolt!" Nothing.

He stood there for a moment, thinking to himself. Eventually he slid his backpack off and set it on the ground. Standing on top of it, Mondoux crouched low and sprang up as hard as he could. Again, he didn't even come close. This time as he landed, a loud crunching sound came from underneath him.

He remained perfectly still, his expression grave. He slowly reached into his pockets, but both of them were empty. Trembling, he sank to his knees and unzipped his backpack. Reaching inside, he pulled out the ruined remains of his DS. He had begun to hyperventilate as he flipped it over and took out the game cartridge. It was broken in half.

Mondoux started to babble incoherently as tears and snot ran down his face. He pooped a little. The sobbing slowly turned into gasping cries of pain and sorrow. He screamed into the cold morning air:

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!"



Somewhere nearby, a passing blackbird stopped to rest on the soft grass below. It twitched its head this way and that, pecking at the ground a few times before flapping its wings and taking off in another direction.