The Firefly Field Theory

|11| Resistance Is Useless: Part II

PART II:

“Okay you guys, stick to the plan and get the job done by twelve, okay? No mess ups.” Bravo instructs. She made it a point to have us all stand in line on the porch while she gives us directions. Like we're her army of minions.

It’s one of those mornings when the sun is trying its best to set the world on fire, but the thick blanket of cool morning breeze, is keeping peace on land. It’s a lovely morning to hit the pool or go on a long drive or sit in the front lawn and listen to music. But apparently Bravo has something else in mind.

Me, Wall-e and Z are standing on the shaded porch, our shoulders aligned, and Bravo the captain is marching in front of us. She chooses to stop right in front of me and in a fake stern voice she says, “Where’s you bandanna?”

She’s stubborn as bloody hell; she has been insisting all three of us wear stupid flowery bandannas while we head out to get the job done. It makes no sense. Why should we look like idiots on purpose?

Since Z literally never complains and  Wall-e would’ve given a crap if the bandannas were made out of alligator skin or maybe white tiger fur. I am inevitably left to take a stand at my own expense.

“I don’t see why I need to wear that stupid thing just because I’m working.” I say blatantly, the taste of the badly burnt breakfast special I had, still stinging my mouth.

She’s a terrible cook. And the only thing worse than being a terrible cook, is a terrible cook who’s forgetful.

Last night, just after my first query faded away and the answers she gave me satisfied my mind, there was a sharp knock on the door followed by a very teary eyed, pajama clad, Z poking his head through the doorway and yelling at Bravo that she’s burnt something in the kitchen.

Partly because, Omi had elucidated me fully-Z’s habit of blaming everyone, and partly because I felt this was my only chance to get some answers out of Bravo, I resisted the urge to yell back at him. But then, the hazy grey smog that snuck its way into the room behind him, made itself a little hard to ignore. Bravo jumped up, cursed, ran frantically to the kitchen, tried to save what was left of the aubergine, barely saved any of it and then made us eat the purple turned black and rusted mix with some boiled rice.

The only thing worse than a terrible cook-who’s forgetful, is a terrible cook-who’s forgetful and stubborn.

Annie kept dropping the deadly chunks into Flame's fish bowl, and I immediately realized it was in the best interest of Wall-e's sanity to get a rubber phony. After skillfully ignoring the chunky irregular squares of the pitiful once-an-eggplant-now-a-dead-plant and taking some spoonfuls of boiled rice, everybody ran for their lives. I stayed to help her clean up, which was a task reflecting my greatness because there was a lot of cleaning up to do. While I did the dishes, I decided to ask her my next question. The one about her strained relationship with Omi. But she waved me off by saying, that since I’d kissed her once, I get only one question answered, now that made me exceptionally angry, enough to almost tie her up and feed her the acrid aubergine, which had all the potential to deprive her taste buds from ever tasting anything again. But I restrained from doing that for two reasons, one, she had all the answers and two, there was a chance that the fantastically burnt flavor might send her tongue into a coma and cause permanent damage to her vocal chords, meaning I might never get the answers.

‘Not now’ is better than ‘Never’.

Omi had told me clearly that she’s childish and stubborn; so I guess I should’ve seen that coming. I said she could tell me only if she wanted to, and if it bothered her I won’t ask again.