Beep Beep Beep

There it is. That insufferable ringing of the alarm stabbing both of my eardrums and forcibly tearing my eyes open.

“Gah! Shutupshutup. SHUT. UP!”

Today’s the day I do it. The day I kill it.

Up till now I have been patient, but no longer today Mr. Clockironi, you meet your maker!

On the one hand, I am the one who made him and should be responsible, but who cares! I’ll make another one!

Reaching for the loud sleep ruining gremlin to smack it straight into a nearby wall, ending its miserable life.

An appropriate response if you ask me.

After I finished the deed, I rolled to the side of my bed to look at its remains, its broken gears reflecting my internal mood. Despite feeling groggy and woozy, I was curious enough to examine its carcass.

“Fee-fou-five thirty?! Gah!” The chilly air crept deeper into my body, despite me wearing full body pajamas. Today was zebra day…whatever that is.

Papa and I go to school in about two and a half hours. Meaning both of us needed to be ready by then or we’ll be la…

I relax back into my bed, my body becoming light like a fluffy bear resting in the winter, whatever those were.

Resist it, Ophelia. You must…get…read…y.

Too late. Far too late, I, Ophelia had to succumb to the temptation because the comfort was so nice that I couldn’t help but close my eyes again. Falling deeper and deeper asleep until suddenly time jumped into my mind.

“Gah!” I howl, mustering all my stored daughter’s energy to sit up.

Today’s my first day of school so that I can meet new people and, most important task of all, make a friend. Just one was enough, but it will prove challenging.

I’ve been at home for as long as I can remember and that was the one thing I will get, no matter what.

Well, Papa did offer to kidnap someone to be my friend, but I declined because besides it being really creepy, I want one in my own efforts.

The Akachi way. Adachi’s sure has a lot of rules to follow, like no sandwiches on the third day of every month.

As sleepiness crept in, I wrapped myself fiercely in my blankets and rolled around to stay awake until I collapsed onto the floor.

Which led to…

Three, two…

“Ophi! Are you okay?! I heard a loud voice call from outside and,”

There he is, always rushing to my side like the dependable Papa I knew and love so much.

He’s probably wondering why I look like a fishy rice roll, but I’ll never tell. Hehe.

I slowly unwrapped myself and jumped into my Papa’s arms. The stubbles beard tickles my head as his powerful arms hug me tightly, all the while smelling of sweet cheesecake pie from the night before.

“Daughter energy. Transfer! Bzzz bzzz”

Rubbing my face in the coffee smears of his stripe shirt gave me just the energy I needed.

“Boop Boop. Half energy. Boop boop.” He robotically said, slouching all of his weight onto me. “Beep Boop. Battery. Full. Dad mode. Activate. Morning. Daughter-of-mine.”

“M-m-m-morning Papa. W-what would you like to e-eat today?” I respond desperately, struggling to hold up this two-hundred-pound man from falling on top of me.

“Hm. How about a roasted duck with a side of newly picked array of spring Suther vegetables?”

“T-that’ll take me foreeever, I dooon’t have any fresh ones and I am not going to the basement today.” I laugh it off.

“Darn it. I was sure of that one.” snapping his fingers. “Ah yes, an exemplary perfectly stewed broth served with a side of prime cut steak. Medium delicious, of course.”

“Papa!”

“Well, then.” Holding onto his chin like a detective investigating a clue. I mean, that’s what I saw in my picture books, so I’m not too sure if they actually do it in real life, but it looks so cool and stoic. I hope I can meet a real-life detective one day.

“Then what does the house recommend?”

I thought it over for a bit, still holding up this two-hundred-pound man, mind you.

It had to be something filling until lunch, but not take too long to make or a lot of maintenance since I had to make lunch too.

With no other options, I use my super special mediocre ability to see if he could give me any hints. When it activates, my eyes light up in an amber hue and the color starts flowing from all around him.

Blinding yellow: Happy. Curious. Playful. Mischievous.

This did not help at all. Like on a scale from useless to uselesser, this was at an eless.

Now that I think about it, how did seeing his emotion help me find out what he wanted to eat?

I knew Papa was trying to annoy me by reading my facial expression, but I couldn’t do anything about it.

Onions! Papa said he hated them. All right, that’s what I’ll do.

“Okay then.” Chuckling back with my own sly smirk. “How about some onion soup?"

“Hm. Excellent choice! I shall gladly await my meal.” His glow was brighter than earlier, and his wide grin pierced through the light.

“You tricked me!” I shout, only to fall to the ground after he releases me from his weight.

“You played yourself, my dear! Hewa hewa hewa.”

Wait, he was right, I’m the one who hates onions, more specifically, a soup only made up of onions.

Better than bland, I guess.

Papa returned to the living room laughing in a smug, obnoxious way, which made me question if that’s how noble people actually laugh.

Papa must’ve made it up to make me laugh, right?

As I took a breath of air, I immediately felt the chill in my lungs spreading to the insides of my warm zebra jammies made me shiver in a winter storm.

I took one whiff of myself and, yep, I absolutely cannot ever, ever EVER go to school smelling like this. I mean, I like the curray smell as much as the next girl, but even this odor was a bit much.

Trust in the cold made me want to take a long bath, so I went over to the smashed clock to look.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Five-forty. Pfft. More than enough time.

Looking around at my small room that could barely fit a bed and closet reminded me of my nightmare.

No, me! I told myself while slapping my cheeks.

Today is going to be a good day. It’s the first day at the institute and I can’t be down.

Not today.

Especially not today because today, I am making a friend. Preferably a girl, so we can talk about girl stuff like…girly stuff. But then again, a determined boy would be…too young!

I’m too young for those thoughts right now.

I open my closet searching for my school clothes, and then I realize something.

“Wowzers.”

We have five pairs of grey uniforms, thirty-one pajamas with different colors for an animal that may exist, and twenty jackets for any weather. I even have five pairs of swimsuits that I’ve never touched outside of baths.

“That’s uh — that’s a lot.”

You’re wondering why I have so many jackets.

Yes, Ophelia. Go on.

Well alright. Just for you, I’ll oblige you with the truth. That’s because it’s freezing. I don’t really know how or like why, but it had something to do with barriers and space or something.

It didn’t use to be this cold when I was little, but as I look out the window line with ice, I couldn’t help but wonder had Progressia always been this way. Papa said it used to be different, but…

“No!” Snapping myself out of the thought. “Friend first. Porogo-Progressia’s problems later.”

I couldn’t waste time thinking about that. Breakfast, as well as friend making, was afoot. I snatch the grey uniform, a color I didn’t much care for by the way, out of my closet to eye myself in the mirror.

“It really doesn’t look good on me.”

My red hair, tiny frame and pale skin didn’t help at all. It’s gonna make me stick out like a nail and you know what happens to those guys.

“Gah…why couldn’t the uniforms compliment me better?”

I dealt with some self-loathing and went to the washroom: a modest bath with a barrel for bathing, water for bathing and…uh…soap for bathing. Then, before I could get settled in, I went back to my room because I forgot my lucky green hairband. And then again for my ducky conditioner. …and one last time for my special lawn chair.

Moving on.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the spacious or fanciest looking bath, but it gets you clean really well, and it feels so good inside the barrel.

So good in fact that I’m banned from using it since, in the words of Papa, “You keep falling asleep princess” and he’s tired of keeping an eye on me.

But that won’t stop me because, bum-papap-pa, my special bathing lawn chair that I… am… not banned from.

A-anyway what makes it special is you can bathe with your clothes on and massages while you get in a quick nap.

I set Phil, yes, I dub my special bathing chair Phil, and dig my right hand into the tub to feel the temperature. The water scorches away any chill from my arm, replacing it with an intoxicating warmth.

As time passes, I attempt to pull away my arm, a feat more difficult than you could imagine, but I had enough willpower to scoop a bucket of water to clean myself. I mean, it took a while, but I escaped…eventually.

I press the button on my lawn chair and bucket and sit back to enjoy bath time.

Water flows out of the bucket, covering my body and hair with soap. I feel relaxed as the droplets press against my skin. The world fades away, leaving me to float on a cloud of pure bliss as my eyelids grow heavier as each molecule of steam gently unweaves every strand of hair.

Divine. Simply divine.

I should get in a quick nap while I….

Knock! Knock!

“Eeep!” I fell off my chair, fully awake now.

“Just making sure you didn’t fall asleep. Again.” He calls out.

“Geez, Papa! It only happened once! And that other time….”

“And every other day, so hurry, Papa’s freezing out here.”

“Oh, please Papa, you don’t even feel the scathing heat of my steaks fresh out of the pan.”

I have no comment on his slander. Sure, I may take longer when I’m ‘enhancing my experience’ while bathing, but it’s not so bad that I do it every day.

“See, this is exactly why I hide the damn thing to begin with, wait how did you find it this time?”

“Fine! I’m heading out, anyway! Geez!”

“Don’t you sass me. You might be a little older baby girl, but you’re never too old for your dad’s refined hoo haa! Discipline.”

I quickly press the buttons again and the water tentacles rinse away all the filth and drowsiness, then spiral into the drain.

I clasp my hands to pray.

Thank you again Mr. Water and Ms. Soap. It felt fantastic this time as well.

After that I dry myself off, with the towel that he totally did not bring for me because…I uh…forgot… then dress myself and went into the kitchen.

“Yahoo!” I hear, following the splishing and splashing of an overgrown toddler known as my Papa.

He splashes loud and proud, but I don’t get jealous. I have a fully stocked fridge from my basement farm, and I don’t know how it happens, but Papa is usually the answer to those kinds of questions. I grab my ingredients and begin prepping them.

Onions, check. Broth check. Oils. Salt and… everything else.

“Okay!”

From under the sink, I pull out a timer along with a clock that I’m not allowed to throw because I keep track of the time while I cook. Also, it was water, fire, and Ophelia proof, so that was a bonus.

Six ten.

A little under two hours, but it was more than enough. I wasn’t just making breakfast; I had to make lunch as well.

This was it. My time. My only skill. Everything had to be perfect. No mistakes.

I start by heating the pot of broth on the stove and ready for another pan for sauteing while preparations for the onions begin.

Six unpeeled onions on the cutting board and one minute. More than enough time.

I grab the knife with my right hand and tap the timer. One minute. That’s all the time I allowed myself to cut these onions.

First, cut them into halves perfectly down the middle. Then flip over. Done.

Fifteen.

Second, cut all the stems. One. Three. Six. Done.

Thirty-two.

Finally, cut all of them into an upside-down banana and into the bowl.

I take a quick breath, then start.

One.

Forty.

Three.

Fifty.

Five.

Fifty-five.

I reach for the last onion, but it slips out of my hand. I finally grab it back onto the cutting board and then I hear it. The timer yells at me that time had run out, leaving me alone with that ugly uncut onion.

Another failure.

“Tch.” I click my tongue.

So close. Four seconds. Four tiny little seconds. Seconds that I should’ve been able to do.

As I laid my knife back on the board, gritting my teeth thinking about my screwup.

Four seconds? I couldn’t even manage that. I should’ve made it! But that onion is still there, uncut. Why? Why? WHY?! Why is it still there?!

A cold rush of thoughts fills my mind as a heavy lump weigh on my throat. My critiques slamming against each side of my skull as darkness and tears from the corner of my eyes closing in until I was alone. My breathing quickens like it was urgently trying to get air into my lungs. As time passed, it felt like an eternity as I stood alone, motionless and crying alone in this void.

My efforts were futile.

No matter what I did, I could prove nothing.

Even if I finish this meal, it was pointless.

What a screwup I am. This was my one thing. My one talent. My singular skill and yet I couldn’t eve—.

And then I felt a single warm wet palm rest on my head, awakening my senses.

“What are you doing standing here like that?” Papa says gently.

When I could see again, I saw him - the only one who’s been with me from the start. I felt safe showing my vulnerable side to him as his smile reminds me exactly why I was working hard.

“We’re going to be late if you don’t finish, but I don’t mind late necessarily fufufu.” He continues to pat my head, and, like a magical broom, it was brushing away all my anxiety. “After all, as a wolf lover once said, ‘A splendid meal takes time and love,’ so take as much of both from me as you need. I’ll wait.”

“Okay.” I softly say, wiping away the tears from my eyes and continue cooking as he sat down on his couch, eagerly waiting for breakfast. We stay silent but with all the motivation I need behind me, refuse to let me stop, well, me.