Stupid Vonklocks (ShoStoBloMo #6)
“There are times in my life when I just don’t understand anything. Nothing makes sense.” Casey dropped her head to the table and sighed.Her mother set a bowl of cereal in front of her. “That’s because you’re twelve. You’re not supposed to understand anything. Don’t get your hair in your cereal.”What Casey’s mom didn’t know, though, was that Casey wasn’t twelve. She hadn’t been twelve for a very, very long time. Her mother’s implanted memories made her remember Casey as a baby – made her remember Casey being born, and having colic, and learning to walk, and going to kindergarten. But none of those things had happened. Casey was 417 years old. She was from a parallel universe. She had been sent to Dimension Six as a punishment. She would age as a typical Six teenager, go to middle school, high school, graduate, forge a life for herself, and check in every few months with her Punishment Officer. If her Officer deemed she been properly rehabilitated over a course of several decades, she’d be allowed back to Dimension Eleven.In only two days, Dimension Six had proven why the courtroom spectators gasped when Casey’s judgement was announced. Six was a combative world. Its inhabitants were overbearing, unjust, grouchy and often mean for no reason. The menial tasks she was assigned by her “mother” were demeaning and exhausting. This was going to be a long, difficult sentence to survive.Casey ate her cereal – a grotesque slop of sweetened foodtsuffs, drenched in a fatty, liquid substance called “milk”. It was revolting. She ate it with a smile, though. “Thanks, mom!”“You better hurry, young lady. Marx will be down soon and he’s taking you to school today. I have to get to the dentist.” She absently rubbed her jaw and sighed. Casey’s eyes narrowed. Marx was her “big brother”. He, too, had implanted memories of her growing up, and felt as if he knew his sister. Casey was very displeased that many of his fake memories seemed to be negative ones, and because of this he treated her with the respect a stinging flyfish treated a grount.Casey grabbed her book bag from the side table and awaited Marx’s inevitable stomping down the stairs. Why these Sixers had to be so loud, she’d never know. Sure enough, a few moments later, THUMP, WHUMPWHUMPWHUMP, THUMP. Marx was down the stairs and standing in front of her. He smiled brightly and flicked her nose with his forefinger as hard as could.“OW,” Casey complained. But she kept herself calm in case her Punishment Officer had a visual device hidden in the house. She had heard rumors of such things.“Come on, Assweevil,” Marx said to her through a mouthful of toast. “We’re leaving.” He brushed past her out the front door and she hurried behind him. In the car, his music was so loud she felt the tracking device in her back tooth vibrate with the bass. The music itself wasn’t unpleasant, but the volume was. She reached over to turn it down and Marx slapped her hand away.“Hands off, douche.”Casey glared at him. At least he would be out of the house in the next few years, plodding through his own life, in some assuredly menial job, leaving her alone so that he could enjoy freedom from his family and the luxury of only bathing once or twice a week.Luckily, Casey’s school was close. Marx barely let his foot off the gas as he drove through the drop-off lane. “Better find a ride home, freak. I have math club.” Casey didn’t find it necessary to respond to him as she jumped from the still moving car. But she was surprised a beast such as he would be in any club, let alone a math club. She made a note to investigate this further.As she walked through the front doors of Hawking Middle School, Casey was immediately accosted by the stench of children. How they managed to smell the same across dimensions was a mystery. But they did smell the same, and it brought tears to her eyes. These foul creatures, chattering and posturing and smelling like youth and body odor and watermelon gum and self-loathing. Foul.She approached her locker, but before she could open it, a hand shot out, covering the lock. A smiling, red-spotted visage leaned into view and Casey was forced to swallow the bile he induced. “Hey Casey Casey Bo Basey, what’s up?”His name was Peter. He was in the eighth grade. Apparently, his implanted memories had something to do with his hand up Casey’s shirt at a birthday party. This must be the Punishment Official’s idea of a hilarious joke. She clenched her jaw and then forced a smile.“Hey, Peter.”“Got any lunch plans today?”“Um. I’m going to lunch with my math class like I always do,” she said, pushing him out of her way and grabbing some books from her locker.“Great!” he was grinning at her so widely that she feared his braces would snap. “I transfered into Algebra, so now we’re in the same class!”She suffered another smile. “Awesome, Peter. I guess I’ll see you, then, huh?”“You bet, hot stuff!” He made an animal noise at her as the bell rang.“OK, well, I gotta go to….” She didn’t finish her sentence, she just turned and walked away. He shouted something after her, but she wasn’t listening. Standing in front of her was Patricia Wellcorn, a behemoth of a girl wearing a wicked grin.“Sorry, Case, this hallway is closed.” Patricia’s sleeves were pushed up and she had no bookbag. Casey sighed. Another Punishment Official joke? A bully? And so stereotypical, too.“Hallway looks open to me,” Casey replied, trying to move past the girl.“Not so much,” Patricia said with an evil laugh. She was easily twice the size of Casey. As Casey stepped briefly past her, Patricia reached out and locked her arm around Casey’s waist. With a very brief struggle, she grabbed the 417- year-old twelve-year-old into the girl’s bathroom.“You know what I hate?” Patricia said calmly, as she tossed Casey’s textbooks one by one into varying toilets. “I hate little girls who think they’re better than me.”“I don’t think I’m better than you,” Casey replied, knowing full well that she was better than this giant girl. Smarter, older, cuter (in Six or Eleven form), and even more successful, despite this hideous punishment that was slowing her step a little.“You do think you’re better than me, so don’t even lie.” Patricia pinned Casey’s hands behind her back and held them in place with five brutish fingers. Casey briefly tried to struggle, but thought better of it. ”You know how I can tell you think you’re better than me?” Patricia was leaning down, whisper-spitting into Casey’s ear.“I could never hazard a guess,” Casey said, trying to not feel too bored.“I can tell because you always look me in the eyes when you talk. You look right into me with no fear. No one looks at Patricia Wellcorn with no fear. No one.” She pushed Casey into one of the stalls and forced her face into the toilet. “I think a lesson is in order,” she shouted as the toilet automatically flushed over and over, spraying blue toilet cleaner into Casey’s face.Casey sighed. Enough of this tedium. She twisted her body, quick as lightning, freeing her face and hands. She lifted Patricia by her neck and slammed the giant girl into the flimsy stall door, leaving a good-sized dent. Casey’s eyes flashed. Not like people’s eyes flash when they’re angry. They literally flashed, like they were taking a picture.“What the?” Patricia said, slumping to the floor.“You will not disrespect me,” Casey said in her Eleven voice, not her Six voice. “You will not damage this body.”Patricia crawled quickly across the bathroom floor, trying to put distance between herself and the girl who obviously was possessed by a demon.Casey pursued her, walking slowly, purposely. She grabbed Patricia’s ankle and squeezed. The girl gasped and cried out in pain. “You will not cause me problems,” Casey said, still using her Eleven voice. “I have crushed Meecrons larger than you.”“Jesus Christ, Casey, what the——”The bathroom door opened. “What is going on in here?” It was Mrs. Beasley, the guidance counselor. She looked very, very angry.Casey immediately let go of Patricia’s ankle and it hit the tiled floor with a pathetic slap. “Nothing, Ma’am. Just helping Patty tie her shoe.” She smiled, but she knew it was too late.Mrs. Beasley grabbed Casey’s arm and dragged her from the bathroom, leaving Patricia on the floor, mouth gaping. The teacher leaned over and snarled, “Not a good way to blend in, KZ.” She dragged the girl down the empty hallway. “You make my job harder and that forces me to make your sentence harder. I thought that was clear.”Casey said nothing.Mrs. Beasley stared at her menacingly and for just a moment Casey caught a glimpse of her true eyes. Lilac, flashing, angry.No one had told her the Punishment Officer could change forms. No one told her a lot of things. Casey sighed – a Six trait she was growing to like. This was going to be a long couple of decades.For the first time she regretted her actions that had brought her to this middle school hallway, face covered in blue toilet cleaner, arm wrenched from its socket by a 700-year-old corrections officer dressed as a guidance counselor.She regretted punching that Vonklock in the ear hole. She knew he was a god but she did it anyway. Stupid Vonklock with his stupid tempting ear hole. She sighed one more time.Dimension Six really sucked.