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Description
5:48pm. The door opened to the shape of a soaking canine. Then arose a stench that combined the deadliest odours; wet dog and burnt fur. Combine that with ash from a rather distracted shift at the steel mill, and even skunks would run for the hills. It definitely wasn’t everyday that Mary had a bad day.
Splish. Splash. Splish. Splash. Sploosh. Glouugsh.

Wet footprints in our living room? Oh right, that was to be expected, they had to keep moving to live. Ah well, at least they haven’t shown off their ability to pee through their skin yet. I’ll get the mops. I will get the mops. But, later. Later…

Upstairs, she spotted him. He was looking into the laundry room, half-inquisitively, as if he knew the run of the place, but had stumbled upon a long-forgotten foundation error. Knashford’s tail began to twitch even further, No space to avoid their crossing paths in the hallway. For once she (mildly) cursed the cozy tightness of a lake home. He looked so sad, but maybe… no not now, but I’m sure… no, rest first. No. Yes. No. Kick. Bite. Dripp. Drip. Drool. Just move on, just.. and then she realized that she’d already walked past, and the child hadn’t noticed.

There was something there that had already captured him. Or rather, something he believed to be there. The smoke and fatigue that enveloped her be damned.
“What’s wrong, honey?”

“Ghosts.”

“I don’t think there are any ghosts here. Run along, okay?” But Knashford just stood there. “Are there?” Still as ever. “What kind?”

“People who aren’t alive anymore.” The metaphorical hook made its grip.
“Well… that’s quite unusual. I should think ghosts have better things to do than haunt little boys all day. What do they want?”

Knashford’s squeaky flatness had whittled down to a whimper. “They’re upset that they’re dead. They want me to think about them.. all the time…they wanna come back to Earth.. they need me to do it… but I don’t how… and I-I don’t wanna.”

She replied, after a minute. “Do they visit you often?”

“All the nights.” Those were black bags under his eyes, weren’t they? “I’m-I’m tired.”
Mary dwarfed over Knashford by magnitudes, even on her knees. But now it felt like they were on the same level.
“You feel like these ghosts take up most of your life, don’t you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“So much so, you can’t think about the forward part of your life, right?”
Nod.
“And sometimes… you forget there’s other people, like your mommy, and Mittens, around… right?”
Vigorous nod.
“Well… I get that too. So do other grownups. What do you think we should do to make them go away? What do YOU wanna do?”
“……………….Yell.”

She whipped her hair back, and took an extended inhale. “HEY, GHOSTS! KNASHFORD HERE IS TRYING TO HAVE A NICE HOLIDAY! YOU’RE RUINING IT, JUST LIKE YOU DO ALL HIS OTHER DAYS! I SUGGEST YOU TAKE YOUR OWN HOLIDAY, A PERMANENT ONE! So… NYEHHHH!!”

“Nyah!” said Ford. And then they turned and laughed merrily.
“All gone?”
“Gone!” Not forever, he knew, but gone for now. For now was enough.
Mary lifted the many hair-strands out behind her sunglasses. “I promised you some cocoa, didn’t I?” She picked Ford up, and gave him a lick. Jiggly arms. Maybe, thought Knashford, it was nice that different animals hybrided after all.

A few hours later, Manfred had moved on to the inking of Dogdevil #782. So tedious, having to do all this at my age. My kingdom for some assistants. On the bright side, the company was getting into the trade reprint business these days, so he’d have a comp copy and a little bit of royalties, if only in the lower hundreds. A whirr of lilac brushed past his drawing table. A bag of Funyuns plopped in front of his snout. There she goes, there she goes again, wearing her Ungrateful Dead shirt, the one she wore all the time to concerts before they had settled down and had pups. She said nothing, but silence could be golden.

And then she waltzed out, like a cocky ballerina.

…………………..

The nature hike went pleasantly, almost like a ballad. There were some downsides, but they all had their silver linings. Like when Knashford fell in that anthill, that resulted in a nifty snack. Mary, doing her part to preserve the good name of responsible mothers, badgered them (a tad) on their financial planning, but immediately swung back into an informative lecture of how to build a brand.

The sights of little houses in a big wood was a nice sight, Eurydice had to agree. It was like your abode was about to be engulfed, but by something pleasant. Trees didn’t yell back. Nor did wildflowers. Creeks didn’t get in your face and tell you that you had nothing to contribute to Land Society and were responsible for a bunch of murders 40 years ago, so go back to the ocean and I hope you get hit by a tour boat. Los Angeles still had what they needed at their age, but retirement… I could happily die here, she thought.

She turned to her… girlfriend. Mittens didn’t dress like she belonged here. She had an instinct to scowl and grimace on the dot, but went through with it only half the time. The townsfolk here had given Mittens a hard time and she grew up a bit angry, but she HAD cooled after meeting Eurydice. So the townsfolk could change too, possibly. Their music could make them change.

“Whaddya looking at, silly?”
“Your… your bum. I’m looking for any serious signs of snooty booty.”
“Aww, thanks. Hey, can we take a picture? I’d like a polaroid of this vacation for our flat back in LA.”
Mary hustled over. “Oh! OH! Can I be in the picture too?” The girls practically shoved her in. “We look like flower girls in this daisy field, don’cha think?”

*click*

“Uh, Mom? You didn’t need to flash your chest for this…”
“Oops! Sorry, just an old habit of mine from the rock festival days… say, did I ever tell you that I met Mittens’ father at an orgy during Woodchuckstock?”
“MOOMMMMMMMM!!”
“I think I'll stick with baby pictures for now, but thanks Miss Malone.”
“Well, I think I’ve got one of Mittens waiting for Father Polar so early she forgot to put her jammies on…”
“MOMMMMMMMMMMMM!”

Eurydice threw back her snout and burst out laughing. Typical family bickering, but she liked it. She’d never really known ‘typical’ in her entire lifetime.

“Ok, ok… too many of those heavy metal shows, that’s what’s gotten you so wound up. Ok, get in, you too Ford, in my lap, annnnnnddddd….”
*click*

“Awwww, Eury! Not you too?”

Concluded tomorrow...

Description
5:48pm. The door opened to the shape of a soaking canine. Then arose a stench that combined the deadliest odours; wet dog and burnt fur. Combine that with ash from a rather distracted shift at the steel mill, and even skunks would run for the hills. It definitely wasn’t everyday that Mary had a bad day.
Splish. Splash. Splish. Splash. Sploosh. Glouugsh.

Wet footprints in our living room? Oh right, that was to be expected, they had to keep moving to live. Ah well, at least they haven’t shown off their ability to pee through their skin yet. I’ll get the mops. I will get the mops. But, later. Later…

Upstairs, she spotted him. He was looking into the laundry room, half-inquisitively, as if he knew the run of the place, but had stumbled upon a long-forgotten foundation error. Knashford’s tail began to twitch even further, No space to avoid their crossing paths in the hallway. For once she (mildly) cursed the cozy tightness of a lake home. He looked so sad, but maybe… no not now, but I’m sure… no, rest first. No. Yes. No. Kick. Bite. Dripp. Drip. Drool. Just move on, just.. and then she realized that she’d already walked past, and the child hadn’t noticed.

There was something there that had already captured him. Or rather, something he believed to be there. The smoke and fatigue that enveloped her be damned.
“What’s wrong, honey?”

“Ghosts.”

“I don’t think there are any ghosts here. Run along, okay?” But Knashford just stood there. “Are there?” Still as ever. “What kind?”

“People who aren’t alive anymore.” The metaphorical hook made its grip.
“Well… that’s quite unusual. I should think ghosts have better things to do than haunt little boys all day. What do they want?”

Knashford’s squeaky flatness had whittled down to a whimper. “They’re upset that they’re dead. They want me to think about them.. all the time…they wanna come back to Earth.. they need me to do it… but I don’t how… and I-I don’t wanna.”

She replied, after a minute. “Do they visit you often?”

“All the nights.” Those were black bags under his eyes, weren’t they? “I’m-I’m tired.”
Mary dwarfed over Knashford by magnitudes, even on her knees. But now it felt like they were on the same level.
“You feel like these ghosts take up most of your life, don’t you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“So much so, you can’t think about the forward part of your life, right?”
Nod.
“And sometimes… you forget there’s other people, like your mommy, and Mittens, around… right?”
Vigorous nod.
“Well… I get that too. So do other grownups. What do you think we should do to make them go away? What do YOU wanna do?”
“……………….Yell.”

She whipped her hair back, and took an extended inhale. “HEY, GHOSTS! KNASHFORD HERE IS TRYING TO HAVE A NICE HOLIDAY! YOU’RE RUINING IT, JUST LIKE YOU DO ALL HIS OTHER DAYS! I SUGGEST YOU TAKE YOUR OWN HOLIDAY, A PERMANENT ONE! So… NYEHHHH!!”

“Nyah!” said Ford. And then they turned and laughed merrily.
“All gone?”
“Gone!” Not forever, he knew, but gone for now. For now was enough.
Mary lifted the many hair-strands out behind her sunglasses. “I promised you some cocoa, didn’t I?” She picked Ford up, and gave him a lick. Jiggly arms. Maybe, thought Knashford, it was nice that different animals hybrided after all.

A few hours later, Manfred had moved on to the inking of Dogdevil #782. So tedious, having to do all this at my age. My kingdom for some assistants. On the bright side, the company was getting into the trade reprint business these days, so he’d have a comp copy and a little bit of royalties, if only in the lower hundreds. A whirr of lilac brushed past his drawing table. A bag of Funyuns plopped in front of his snout. There she goes, there she goes again, wearing her Ungrateful Dead shirt, the one she wore all the time to concerts before they had settled down and had pups. She said nothing, but silence could be golden.

And then she waltzed out, like a cocky ballerina.

…………………..

The nature hike went pleasantly, almost like a ballad. There were some downsides, but they all had their silver linings. Like when Knashford fell in that anthill, that resulted in a nifty snack. Mary, doing her part to preserve the good name of responsible mothers, badgered them (a tad) on their financial planning, but immediately swung back into an informative lecture of how to build a brand.

The sights of little houses in a big wood was a nice sight, Eurydice had to agree. It was like your abode was about to be engulfed, but by something pleasant. Trees didn’t yell back. Nor did wildflowers. Creeks didn’t get in your face and tell you that you had nothing to contribute to Land Society and were responsible for a bunch of murders 40 years ago, so go back to the ocean and I hope you get hit by a tour boat. Los Angeles still had what they needed at their age, but retirement… I could happily die here, she thought.

She turned to her… girlfriend. Mittens didn’t dress like she belonged here. She had an instinct to scowl and grimace on the dot, but went through with it only half the time. The townsfolk here had given Mittens a hard time and she grew up a bit angry, but she HAD cooled after meeting Eurydice. So the townsfolk could change too, possibly. Their music could make them change.

“Whaddya looking at, silly?”
“Your… your bum. I’m looking for any serious signs of snooty booty.”
“Aww, thanks. Hey, can we take a picture? I’d like a polaroid of this vacation for our flat back in LA.”
Mary hustled over. “Oh! OH! Can I be in the picture too?” The girls practically shoved her in. “We look like flower girls in this daisy field, don’cha think?”

*click*

“Uh, Mom? You didn’t need to flash your chest for this…”
“Oops! Sorry, just an old habit of mine from the rock festival days… say, did I ever tell you that I met Mittens’ father at an orgy during Woodchuckstock?”
“MOOMMMMMMMM!!”
“I think I'll stick with baby pictures for now, but thanks Miss Malone.”
“Well, I think I’ve got one of Mittens waiting for Father Polar so early she forgot to put her jammies on…”
“MOMMMMMMMMMMMM!”

Eurydice threw back her snout and burst out laughing. Typical family bickering, but she liked it. She’d never really known ‘typical’ in her entire lifetime.

“Ok, ok… too many of those heavy metal shows, that’s what’s gotten you so wound up. Ok, get in, you too Ford, in my lap, annnnnnddddd….”
*click*

“Awwww, Eury! Not you too?”

Concluded tomorrow...