I'm calm. I'm calm.
I'm fine. This is fine. Nothing's wrong.
Everything will work out.
Everything will be okay.
I am in control.
I am fine and calm.
I'm calm.
I'm calm.
I'M NOT CALM.
Bittergiggle's mind was a swirl of chaos.
Every bit of his brain was kicking into overdrive as he made his way back to his hideout with the constant reminder of his new predicament in his arms.
A part of Bittergiggle wanted to scream, to throw the mini version of himself far away and run. Another part of him tried to think where the best place to dump the child would be and never look back.
Another, bigger, more desperate part of him wanted to track down Syringeon and beg on his knees for him to take the child back.
Bittergiggle was a performer. A jokester, a cunning trickster, an escape artist, a hidden genius, many things!
But a father?
A parent?
No. That was not him.
The jester swore he was almost sick. His stomach, while empty, felt like it was trying to hurl and twist into knots at the same time. His legs felt like they could give out any moment, but still carried forward as Bittergiggle used all the best routes to stay hidden and out of sight.
A rogue thought crossed his mind as he slid past cameras in the blind spots, one that wondered if he could just leave the mini him where human surveillance could come across it and leave him scot-free to escape.
But then Syringeon's voice would pop up. His last warning to the jester left an ominous taste in his mouth that made him wonder what the surgeon meant, and why he felt so compelled to hide the tiny jester like the four-armed mutant suggested he should.
Why? Why hide her? Why keep her a secret from the humans when they could easily take her out of his life?
Well, that was a simple answer.
Humans SUCKED.
From day one, Bittergiggle's life, and the lives of many other Mutants and Mascots, had been miserable.
Day in and out were filled with nothing but testing and probing and more testing and mistreatment and more testing and more probing and more backlash and harsh comments and even, surprise surprise, MORE TESTING!
It had been agony those first few months of his life, and it didn't get any better when the humans deemed him unfit and threw him down to the lower levels. He had the freedom to move about instead of being locked inside a cell all the time till testing, but Bittergiggle still felt trapped.
Like he never left the cell.
Syringeon was right.
Handing her to a human was nothing short of certainty for a miserable life, and he wouldn't wish that on another Mutant and Mascot.
The scars hidden on his body were a constant reminder of why humans would never be good. And Bittergiggle would be no better than them if he handed this tiny jester to them.
Not to mention Syringeon's ominous warning.
What did he mean by both?
Was it a warning? An underline message? Something of great importance?
YOU ARE READING
Tiny
General FictionBittergiggle was a lot of things. He was a jokester, an escape artist, a cunning trickster, and many other things that could describe him. He was, however, NOT parent material. And he certainly didn't ask for a child! Especially one that was dumped...
