Puppetry

Taking Over the World Wednesday/Resistance is Futile

Nothing, I think. No, wait--I see someone. Two someones. One of them wearing a white Starfleet uniform--well, a hologram of one, the other dressed in red. "Hello, Roy Macintosh? Snazzy,"  I chirpily addressed, having held off the desire to immediately transmute him or his partner into catechumens as she had done to me, "--how are things, my love? May I be of assistance?" 

Royal's eyes, there was something trepidatious about them, as they scanned my strangely naked self, expression half frozen in arousal and half in a struggle to maintain a tough appearance as he puffed up his shoulders and responded stiffly, looking out the window of my bedroom before I could break out and wonder how the hell I got back home so quickly. 

"We wanted to check up on you, see how you were--um, doing...but I think you're doing swell on your own, right--aside from the bizarre nakedness."

"No--I'm fine, sweethearts. I'm fINe...my head hurts, but it's fine."

I missed those vaguely normal days. Now I'm a conduit--not that it bothered me now. 

"Your head's really warm," Roy nitpicked, touching my forehead concernedly, "--let me get you some water..."  A hacking cough, several of them, before I struggled to stand up and come toward the fridge. "No--I am FiNe...uh, fine. Just a bug. Just a bug."  "Well, m'lady, get dressed then,"  he responded, before looking at the bed, sniffing it a little bit. 

"Hmmm--what's for dinner, my fine friend?" Roy asked, turning around to his silent uniformed companion manning the stove as he listened for the Morse code. "Heart of Targ, huh? " 

The sign language between these creatures was impeccable, and as dinner became even more awkward between their insistence to try the animal heart and beef kidney and my increased pickiness to have tomato soup or literally anything else, there was a sudden disturbance inside of me. A very ugly disturbance, as--well, a God who didn't exactly need food being forced to have it and an already picky woman's collective outburst would get.

"You know, I've always hated humanity, really. Your obsessive need to force people to do certain things and eat certain things and, in the point of view for this little woman, assimilate into a society in which they do not belong or cannot--even your attempts at equality are--wait, isn't this about food? I could just excuse myself and live with not eating--thinly veiled power structures built on hubris and other sins of the flesh...but that, ThAt iSN't YoUr FauLt. YoU wAnT sOmeOne WhO CaReS aBout YoU...So LeT Me HeLp YoU AcHieve ThAt HaRmOnY..."

Thursday was going to be a long day, wasn't it? I could tell by the way I was struggling to stay calm--it was one dinner. One strange dinner that clashed with my genetics.