Yamino and the Kreepy Krawlies

The Unstrangely Free thing

Shah-Mosa lay there dehydrogenated. Her cells begged for that moist liquid to be actively transported to her cells. Yet, her figure was still as perfect as an entomological experiment.

Yamino konsidered her prone form; then he struck out a whip. He cracked it against her endocytotic vesicles. "Arise, maiden. Lead me thou to thy sex-linked male relative."

The under-neck of Shah-Mosa ached with a tender bliss. Her eyes fluttered open. She rose from the non-ferric floor by careful peristalsis. " Say, boi, I am no toy. I refuse to be a ploy for your joy." Her glare cut through him like a scalpel.

A decisecond passed.

Under her glare, Yamino withered. His face took on a shameful concoction. "Shah Mosa... my left liver quivers in guilt for what I put you through, back in our apartment in Kollam."

"Ohoho, of course you're guilty. You're a traitor, with a heart so filthy! How could you leave me, with nothing but worthless kachoris?"

"The kachoris were stuffed with love," Yamino warbled, "all my love for you."

"Lies! Ties! Dies! Flies!"

Yamino quailed. "My love for you..."

Shah-Mosa's anger ripped through her frame with the force of a flaming supernova. It burst from her body in a technicolor torrent, burning away the Kekta-hair bonds. Her face was twisted in a porcelain hurricane of utter disdain.

As the keratin coiled into ash and krumbled, she spoke one thunderous word. "I hate you, your spine, and the endless lies unfine."

Yamino was super scared. "I-I-I'm sorry I lied to you. You look very nice today."

"I always look flawless. But you are lying and lawless.

You are the truck that drove me over, a wrecking ball even when you're sober.

My life was tattered as paper in rain, but you permeated it to a new level of pain.

I sight the question on your pathetic leechy face, oh, what have I done to win this disgrace?

You gave me love, then gave me blame, instead of attacking that damn dame.

So thus Kicktoria, not Shah-Mosa, wins, though she, not I, sins.

Thief! She the thief! And I in grief!

And I lay outside, dead to the world, into a din of destitution hurled.

Agony, agony was my life. At Photoshop, life was strife.

But compared to this heartbreak, that lab was like heaven's wake.

The tubes poked and prodded; my eyes with tears were sodded,

but the blame is yours. My life went off the door."

Yamino quaked as he trembled in treble clef. He struggled to placate the fiendish Shah-Mosa. "It was for a good cause!" he pleaded.

"Good cause? Wait, pause. The cause of breaking me into bits? Your nonsense sends me into fits." She laughed as loud as she boomed, swinging in a crepuscular ellipse.

"It's true!" Yamino plinkered, as his willpower was osmoregulated into smithereens. "I had to grow hair!" he confessed in a kubical wail.

Shah-Mosa swished her head exothermically in disbelief. Her hair swayed mockingly, menacingly. Yamino yammered yonder, "You emitted a frequency that made my hairs grow with poofs. Except it wasn't you -- it was the orb! I didn't need you... after... that..."

Shah-Mosa plucked her mace from the floor and grappled it with white tight knuckles. "You blowfish. You selfish."

And she thrust the mace into the menace that was Yamino, sending his whip wiping away across the Kuad.

Yamino curled away, trying to be placating. "Please! Please, I'll buy you a kachori!"

But the mace smacked his speech away from his mind and his hand away from his pants pocket, where (he wrongly thought) there lay a wallet. He tried again. "Please, please! I was just trying to grow hair and fit in."

Shah-Mosa froze, boom-struck. She saw her own wish refracted in Yamino's eyes, and it washed over her, snuffing out the flame of her anger. Her body relaxed, crumpled, though her eyes remained steady and stark.

She sniffed. The air stank with ozone. Yamino gasped in surprise and relief.

"Please... help me. Help me find the second orb."

"And what will stop me from stabbing you here as you lie?"

"I'll help you somehow," Yamino formulated, "I'll give you that orb. I will!"

"And if you fail or lie, you will agree to die."

"Y-yes."

"Good. Get up. Arise. Let us sup."

For some food still awaited, uneaten, on the sylindrical table, mere moments to the side.

Yamino upheaved himself off the shiny floor. His scythe lay clattered on the ground. He gifted it.

"For free? For me?" queried Shah-Mosa.

"Yes. For you, dearie." Yamino breathed freely. The worst was over, though the worst was yet to come.