Eevee TF Series
Eevee slept peacefully on Ron's tousled brown-haired head as he sat back on the rock-slab and watched the clouds effortlessly inflate and dissipate into strange shapes high above him. The afternoon shone brightly through most of them, lighting them up. Underneath their masses was a dark shadow that suggested a coming rain. Ron stood for half an hour studying their shapes, and he noticed that all clouds were almost perfectly flat on the bottom. He began to wonder why all clouds had curving, bulging sides, but blunt, flat bottoms. It was strange because he had never noticed it before, so he began pulling out theories as to why. All of his thinking inside the thinly-wooded clearing was in vain, however, because each time he concocted a viable theory, a car would pass by on the country road that was up the path behind him, and he would stop his thought process to make sure that his sky-blue friend was securely hidden in the towel he had stolen from Valencia's beach bag. As soon as he checked to see if it was Don or not he would slouch back into his languorous stupor and discover again that all clouds above him had a blunt, flat underside.
Every so often the wind would blow around the mountain in his direction, carrying with it the deformed sounds of the city; busses screeching as they stopped, children playing along the sandy beach, police sirens- more than likely heading off to nowhere at all, and sometimes in between he would hear nothing at all; just the vapid waves that silenced all of the children, busses, and police sirens in the whole state. In his thinly-wooded entourage he felt a warm sensation- deep, halfway between his heart and his head. The solace which the clearing provided allowed him to perceive everything that was going on around him; he leaned with the trees as the wind blew through them, he swayed as the lake's waves curled up on the shore and retreated back. His chest heaved slowly and lightly like his sleeping partner's. He almost wished that time would stand still so he could remain peacefully on the rock for eternity.
A foreign, faint sound entered his perception, shattering his trance. An engine revved and tires squealed off in the distance, but they approached quickly. Ron reluctantly sat up and leaned his head around to see a pair of headlights careening toward him. He realized how late it was getting when his whole world turned yellow-white, and he shielded his eyes, hoping the crazed driver was going to kill himself peacefully and would not decide to take him out as well.
An old, dinged-up yellow taxi rolled to a stop a couple feet from the rock. The man inside quickly cut the engine and opened the door to yell out at Ron, not making any motion to get out or even unbuckle his seat.
"I heard you needed a ride, but- what the
" Don's eyes squinted at Ron's figure. He sat back a bit and chuckled. "Never knew you was a coon-skin man!"
Ron cocked his head.
"Where'd you get that hat-" when Don said hat, pointing out of his window at Ron's head, the furry mound on top uncurled and a small head poked out on top. Don sat, confused. Ron's hat made a strident chirp and Don recoiled in surprise. "What the heck is that thing?"
Ron looked up at the furry tail that swept over his face. "Never mind that- I have to get back to the hotel now." He spoke powerfully and resolutely, in a voice that startled Don, who only knew the kid as a timid introvert. Ron held up his towel-wrapped package. "Can you help me here?"
"Eh, sure." He quickly got out and stumbled over to Ron.
"Get that beach bag."
"You know, it really isn't your style."
Ron paused. "Flattering." He opened the stiff passenger door and got in. Don gently placed the beach bag on the seat behind him and ran around to the driver's seat and got in. As he started the engine he did a double-take when he saw the brown thing still on Ron's head.
"What's on your head?"
"I'll explain later."
Don sped forward, a little disconcerted about who he was transporting.
"What's that in your towel, there?"
"I'll explain later."
"Alright, what gives? You sounded pretty upset on the wire. What's your hurry?"
"I'll explain later."
Don shook his head, defeated, as he sped down the road.
The cab crossed over the narrow bridge. As the tires hit each metal support a loud dud sounded, making a rhythmical patter like a drum-roll, and it stopped as they entered the main highway. Unlike the previous night, the streets were notably less crowded, and the traffic lights felt generous in letting the old cab pass through without stopping. Don felt very uncomfortable; he was an outgoing person who thrived on conversation, but his churlish passenger, who refused communication at all, made it hard for him. Every time he spoke, his aloof friend ignored it, and he tried to make his conversations smaller and smaller, until he was talking to himself about an expected rain that was never to come. This amity met with resolute belligerence continued all the way to the hotel, which was then dimly-lit with few cars in the parking lot. The sun had finally gone down, or simply disappeared behind the mountain, but the city was engulfed in darkness, except for the peach-yellow lights that all lit up simultaneously, and the myriad building lights that resembled static fireflies that never flickered.
The cab stopped in the usual parking spot that, had the sun been in view, would have been identifiable by the large pool of engine runoff that had created a hole an inch or two deep throughout its many years of residence. Ron stepped out furtively and quickly, gently placing his bundle on his seat. He leaned over and, with Eevee gently napping in his hand, took out the red-and-white ball that sucked the dormant creature inside. Right after doing so Don stepped out, unaware, and closed his door. He grabbed the bag out of the back and closed that door too. Ron reopened his door and retrieved his towel-wrapped friend and used his foot to close the door. The two walked towards the hotel's well-hidden back entrance.
Don continued looking at the towel in Ron's arms, trying to discern what was inside. The fluorescent lights inside allowed him a better glimpse at the package, and he saw that whatever was inside was not entirely inside, and that a blue, cat-like head poked out on the other side. Ron continued striding down the hallway, trying to ignore his driver's incessant worrying.
Up ahead he saw the elevator, but heard a ding as the doors slowly shut. He reluctantly broke his silence and looked over to Don. "Can you catch that elevator?"
"Sure," he replied, delighted to have his friend talking again. He sprinted ahead, leaving Ron walking slowly behind. "Hey! Hold up! Wait!" He got to the door just in time to thrust his arm in and stop the doors from closing. The doors quickly reopened, revealing group of three people standing with dazed faces, looking for answers. "Hey, buddy, hurry up!"
Ron picked up his pace, trying not to bob up and down by bending his knees and making his steps more rolled and smooth. It was a trick he had learned in high-school, when running to the last open seat in the lunchroom while not spilling his food. As he sped along, the towel flapped and exposed more and more of the turquoise head and paws. He entered the elevator and leaned into the corner. Don stepped back and allowed the door to close. There was a whirring above and below them and the elevator slowly ascended.
Everyone in the elevator was staring at Ron, who stared back coldly.
Don broke in to the family in the corner. "You'll have to forgive him; he's a bit cranky today." His gaze switched hopefully between the three others.
The two adults in the corner were dressed in laid-back attire, and their skin was darkly-tanned. The male had short, thin hair and tried not to stare at anything in particular. He kept skipping from unnoticeable detail to unnoticeable detail in the elevator car, looking for some pattern to point out and hopefully not be ridiculed. His female partner stood with a weary look in her eyes as she thought meticulously about the future and not paying any sort of mind as to what was going on.
Their child was firmly standing along the wall between Ron and her parents. Her thin coat with long pants and pale expression stood out strikingly against the jeans and t-shirt of her father and the heavy makeup of her mother. Each had a large suitcase or two in front of them, covered in reflective fabric and adorned with numerous zippers and tags.
From his constant wavering, the father murmured, "Do the elevators always take this long?"
Don delightfully interjected, "Well, I've been living here for years. They take a couple of minutes to warm up, and a while longer to go up. They've always been like this."
"Really? How long have you been living here?"
"Ever since it was built. In fact," he said, not caring whether he was telling the truth or not, "I helped build it, before I became a cab driver."
"Hm. That's nice." The flitting eyes looked down at the watch on his wrist, noted the time, and went back to studying the four-buttoned control panel. His expression was marked with ancient wrinkles and he looked overtly intimidated by the sophistication of the elevator car.
"So, you travelling?"
"Oh, that's nice. Summers here in the city are beautiful. Where're you from?"
"Oh," sighed the father, "way out there, 'bout
The silent daughter chimed in. "We live in a crater." She immediately returned to her motionless stance.
"Thank you, honey," he chided, without turning his head.
"Ah, well, then welcome to Coledge; my town." He felt proud claiming, with a matter-of-fact tone, that he practically owned the city. He let his last words ring a bit, hoping to impress the adults or even the bittersweet child, but all he received was a languorous "Thanks" from the father, who spoke for the family but tried vigorously to find something to do rather than make conversation with anyone. Don reached into his pocket and pulled out a small business card with a cartoon cab on it. He looked it over, approvingly, and handed it to the man, who reluctantly stopped his scanning to accept it.
"I'm the head of the top-rated taxi service here in the city. If you ever need a lift, just give me a call, alright?"
The man thanked him again and spent the rest of his time studying the card hoping to find some pattern to point out and hopefully not be ridiculed.
The teenager finally decided to break out of her daze. She looked at the people around her with a sort of contempt, silently eyeing every notable detail about them. When she looked at Ron, though, she felt awestruck. Some abstract detail about his calm visage made her stare at him in wonder. He had a nervous, though confident look in his eyes, and his messy hair fell over part of his eye, though he made no motion to remove it. What she saw in his arms reminded her of an infant being warmly wrapped in a swaddling cloth, though her eyes widened with surprise when she saw the head of the "baby," which looked less like a baby than it did a blue cat, if ever she had seen a blue cat.
She cleared her throat quietly. "Is that your pet?"
Ron, startled, looked down with nervous affliction. He pondered whether or not to call the cat that used to be his friend his pet. "Err, yes, it is."
"He's beautiful," she sighed, relieved to be talking with the man in the corner who stood three or four inches over her. She suddenly felt a strong attraction to him, despite the fact, she kept telling herself, that she had no idea who he was.
Ron uneasily shifted his weight. "He's actually a she."
The girl inched closer to him. "Oh, well then, she's beautiful." She was constantly concerned about the way she sounded, and continually cleared her throat, faking a cough. "What's her name?"
Ron tried his best to not to falter his voice. "Err," he couldn't say her name was Valencia; it sounded too human. "Err, her name's Valli." It actually sounded like a descent name for a cat.
Valli." She nodded. "Oh, Valli," she giggled. "Like that old singer, what was his name
"Frankie," Don corrected her.
"Yeah, Frankie Valli." She laughed, and Ron tried to hide his concern by chuckling lightly. "Is that what you named him-"
"Her," Ron corrected.
"Right- her. Is that what you named her after?"
Ron looked down at 'Valli.' "Yeah, I suppose so."
She nodded in approval. "You like his music?"
"Eh, yeah," he shrugged.
"Yeah, I love his music. Nothing like the oldies."
"Hmm," he nodded.
She stood in front of him, smiling. "My name's Victoria, but everyone calls me Tori," she announced as she held a benign hand out towards Ron.
He tried to turn around so he could hold Valencia with both arms and shake her hand. In doing so, the cat head turned with him to face Victoria. "Ron. Nice to meet you." He took her hand and shook it politely with a fake smile.
Victoria was overjoyed, her smile spreading up into her cheeks. Their introduction was interrupted by the mechanical ding of the elevator door. It opened slowly and everyone inside poured into the carpeted hall. "Well, I hope we end up seeing more of each other, Ron!"
"Right," he murmured, "See you." He turned from her and walked to his left down the hallway and found his room. He fished around for his key, careful not to drop his "cat" and opened the door.
The room was in a much cleaner condition than what he had left it in; the bed was neatly made, the curtains were closed and noticeably straighter. The bathroom smelled of recently-used chemicals, and all of his belongings were neatly placed in their ideal locations, instead of being strewn out across the floor, as they had been when Ron found himself late for his class. He was inside, heading for the bead, when he saw that Don was still out in the hall, waiting for permission to come in and wondering whether to go away or not.
Ron placed the toweled bundle on his bead and, relieved of the cumbersome weight, motioned vigorously motioned for his visitor to enter. "Get in here, and close the door."
Don skipped inside and closed the door tightly behind him. The lock made an electronic buzz as it locked itself. "All right, kid, what's going on? What do you have that is so secret?"
Ron glared apologetically. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't show you out there." He rolled the limp figure in the towel over on the bed and uncovered the opaque, milky-blue body he had been concealing.
Don's eyes widened, impressed and surprised. He looked over all of the strange, alien features that the phlegmatic creature exuded. He cocked his head as he looked at the fins that surrounded it head and neck, and the long tail with the fan on the end. Its gleaming, sky-blue skin- if one wanted to call it that- looked flaccid and rubbery. "That's no cat," he remarked.
"You bet your sweet bippie it isn't." Ron looked sternly from the blue figure to Don.
Don laughed at the comical comeback his friend came up with. "Well, what is it?"
Trying to find the right words to use, Ron continued slowly and cautiously. "Her name is Valencia. We go to college together."
"You go to college with that thing?" He poked an odious finger out at the sleeping figure. Ron slapped it down with deep conviction.
"That thing is- was one of my best friends. Now she's
" He shook his head in exasperation. He ran over to the beach bag and pulled out Valencia's denim purse. He found her driver's license with her human hair and eyes and clear complexion and showed it to Don. "You've never known me to be crazy- not like this."
Don's smile quickly disappeared and eyebrows lifted into his hair. "My God!" he exclaimed, as he almost fell over. He faltered over to a chair next to the bed and sat down, aloof. Fear and disbelief crossed his face, which was twitching wildly. For a man of many surprises, this was almost a trauma. His head started to turn pale. "How could this happen?" he whimpered.
Ron stood with a blank expression. He sat down on the bed next to Valencia and looked over to Don. "I don't know, but I think this little guy might have something to do with it." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the marble that, with the push of a button, immediately expanded in his hand. Don watched with curiosity as Ron gently tossed the ball onto the thickly-carpeted floor, opening up on impact. The room took on a sanguine hue as a red light shot out and a small, brown, bushy fox materialized. Ron lurched forward and grabbed the fox, who was squealing and biting to get out of his grip in hopes of meeting the owner of whatever deep voice was haughtily laughing behind him. The furball managed to turn himself around and froze as he peered at the red-vested, blue-jean-adorning person in the chair. He sat, content, in motionless admiration at the scruffy figure that looked back with a face of confusion and jamais vu.
Suddenly the runt broke free from Ron's grip and ran across the length of the bed. He bounded onto the nightstand and ran over to the giant figure. Stopping at the corner, he started barking happily and pleasantly at Don, as if trying to make conversation.
Don scratched his head at the jabbering creature. "What is this?"
The fox stopped his yipping suddenly at this remark. The lamplight above him reflected in his elliptical eyes and he turned his head downward, almost sobbing. He retreated back over to Ron's protective arms.
"Him?" Ron allowed the saddened fox back into his lap. He realized what was going on between the two, whether Don realized it or not. "You should know," he replied casually, recalling the events that occurred the previous afternoon.