Dor sat in the corner of the room and listened to the monster's rambling.

“Oh my!” She began in her airy voice. “Now, I told Boss, I told him that he’d dropped a stitch. It was awfully red, you know. His hand was in a terrible state, but with those claws, he was such a klutz.”

Listening to her was like visiting Granny Ann all over again, that was if Granny Ann was a young beauty.

“I’d stand over Boss's shoulder and watch his marvelous creations. Those old treadles sure fooled me, but not Boss.” She shook her head. “No way. His creations, they came to life! Can you believe that? He stitched them up and they walked off. That…that is true cross-stitch.”

She thumped her current creation onto the bed. It depicted Dor slugging back a literal vat of whiskey in front of a glowing computer monitor, all stitched in red and yellow bichrome. He’d have liked to compliment her efforts, but her speech caught him so off guard, he couldn’t muster any noise himself. Best he could do was nod along in cordial agreement, like he comprehended a word of what she said. He did not, but she didn’t need to know that. Progress! This is progress!

“Mine is quite a ways off,” she continued, a real chatterbox when on the right subject. “Boss said he’d teach me. I really wanted to learn. Art…now that is something I never learned, but if I do know one thing it’s that living creations have to be the height of it. And the boss, you see, every one of his creations could live and breathe!”

Dor worked up enough courage to ask as a question. “If I move closer, will you eat me with your tail?”

The monster answered, “Scrub-bucket, now he quit visiting me, but I’d call the boss. Every day I’d call him and we’d talk and he’d be just so interested in what I have to say that I couldn’t help myself.”

She put her thumb in her mouth. “Thomas, he quit visiting me, so I took it all out on Boss. And…well…oh dear, it pains me to admit, but I was quite shameless, you see? We talked about Canasta. You don’t eat it, but you play it with cards. The book said so. And I taught him how to play, but the thing is, it always starts with Canasta, and then it moves onto…other things.”

She paused and bit her lip. “That’s how it always was with Thomas. I thought that’s how it would go with Boss…” She trailed off.

Dor stammered and tried to process that long ramble. He was much more invested in hers than that kid’s. Hers held truth and substance, he could understand that much, but as to what truths, he had no idea. Likely, it would all work itself out. For now, he needed to be patient and nurture her verbal diarrhea. It was enough she talked, and he was literally gripping the edge of her seat, lamenting he didn’t hold a pen and paper. Or a smartphone…

“Who’s Thomas?” He asked.

That was the wrong question. She drew the covers over herself and from underneath, he heard: “Thomas quit visiting me. Scrub-bucket said Thomas would quit visiting me. Thomas quit visiting me. Scrub-bucket said Thomas quit visiting me. Thomas—”

Over and over again, she repeated herself, once again lost to her own oblivion. Dor struggled to comprehend her words, but he had no frame of reference. They might as well have been gibberish. Still he was determined. It’s progress, goddammit! Lulu, I found progress!

‘Did you now?’ Lulu would have said. ‘And how can you be sure this beast isn’t leading you astray?’

‘For the same reason I know you weren’t,’ he’d reply.

‘And how did you know I wasn’t?’

‘Because there was no reason for you to drag me anywhere. I made your life harder and you stuck with me. You didn’t want me to spend—’

‘A life spent wasted. So do you think I’d let you waste this beast’s life?’

‘No…her life is—’

‘Precious.’

Dor agreed. The monster was precious.

‘And I’ll crank your emotions up to nineteen!’ He heard Mr. Body cackle.

‘I’ll do you one better, you prick.’ Dor replied. ‘I’ll crank them up to twenty-three, courtesy of Lulu. You have no power here.’

Mr. Body was silent, Lulu cranked his emotions up to twenty-three and Dor asked another question. He simply didn’t care. It was what Lulu would do, and he followed Lulu, so it was also what he would do.

“Do you have your gloves on, beast?” He asked.

She didn’t answer.

“You are a beast,” he said. “You need to be careful. People are fragile.”

The covers slipped down and tears poured down her eyes and this time they fell onto a frown. No smiles, only harsh reality, now. “I am people,” she said.

Dor called on the Sargent, bit his cheeks and did everything in his power to keep his distance from that beast. She was dangerous but had no clue herself as to how dangerous. He needed to stand strong, convince her of what she was, not bow to weakness and run over and give her a hug. Those claws, her tail would both kill him in a heartbeat.

“People here are different,” he said. “You are not people here.”

“I don’t know where I am,” she replied. “It’s like my book, but my book is a fable. Wondrous ideas, likely stolen from many people all at once, but that is how those things go. You see, those wondrous ideas are fantasy. Scrub-bucket tried them, and then…and then…and then…” She trailed off again.

Christ. She was more relateable as a mute. Dor didn’t have a clue what spurned her outburst. He was grateful for it, but still hadn’t a clue how to nurture or relate to it. She was still as much of an enigma as before, and it was clear he couldn’t get through to her indirectly. So, he tried the direct approach.

“You attacked me this morning,” he said.

There really was no other way to say it. She certainly wasn’t protecting him. Maybe in her own mind she was, but in reality, it was an attack, and she had no clue how severe her actions were. That was all he wanted to do, drive the consequences of her actions home. She was agreeable and protective, that much he understood, but her lack of situational awareness made her extremely dangerous, mostly because he didn’t know if he could actually shoot her if push came to shove.

Fact was, his fear of her hadn’t lessened, only shifted to a new paranoia.

She didn’t respond to his barb, just tucked herself away underneath the comforter, unable to face the reality he’d laid out for her. Dor didn’t relent. Dammit, this is progress! I can’t let this go. I can’t even sleep in my home.

“You have claws,” he told her. “You have a tail. Your eyes are black. You are not people. You are a beast.”

Truthfully, he was nervous he’d push her over the edge with his barbs, that his reality would anger her. Her affection almost killed him, he shuddered to think what her wrath would do.

She didn’t respond.

“You have claws,” he reiterated. “You have a tail. Your eyes are black. You are not people. You are a beast.”

The blanket squirmed. He didn’t see a pair of jet black eyes poke out, instead, he saw a pair of oven mitts. She wore them on her hands and poked them out the comforter on display. Fuck.

Dor sniffled. Damn those cranked up emotions. Fuck you, Lulu! And fuck you, Mr. Body!

The monster knew she was a beast. He now knew that she knew, and that was enough for now. He stood to leave. His eyes burned and before he left, he left her with one last jab: “Let’s be friendly”

He didn’t know if the comforter nodded and didn’t care to know. He was a piece of shit and didn’t deserve her answer. She was an existence far above his, and his human fear forced him to reign in that existential terror instead of simply accepting it. He needed to control the beast, not let her be. His fragile human self was at risk, and Dor had since realized he did not want to die.

As he closed her door, the beast hummed an airy tune and Dor stopped to listen. He wanted to record it to memory in case one of them did kill the other. It was a catchy beat. Dad would appreciate it.

He closed the door and left her alone, unsure of what to do next. Give me a roadmap…somebody…please.

Neither Lulu nor Mr. Body responded and he was left to figure himself out.

And then, he heard a knock on the front door.