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keladry_lupinI recced a bit of fanart yesterday, and I was so taken with the drawing that I started to think about what they might be like in high school or college. Then Mama Angst (my omnipresent alter ego) began to take over, and this is what came of it. The little scene I've written isn't the scene depicted in the fanart; if I keep writing, the moment portrayed in the fanart will come later:
calvin.hobbes.suzy.manga style by ~nami86 on deviantART
***
Calvin had yanked the stifling black jacket and tie off him as soon as he was in the house, Uncle Max holding the door open for Dad behind him. He was so sick of people! How many different ways were there to reply to, “I’m sorry about your mother, Calvin”? He’d stopped talking about two hours ago. If he said anything else, he’d lose it. Ignoring his growling stomach, he went upstairs and slammed the door.
He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t go out there, he couldn’t stay in here. He couldn’t talk, but he couldn’t stay silent.
Hobbes stopped talking years ago, but he still held a place of honor on Calvin’s work table. Three computers, fifteen programming books, hundreds of games, and a threadbare tiger with only one eye. Calvin looked at the old toy -- his best friend, at one time -- and desperately wished he could talk to somebody.
Shucking his pants off, he flopped into bed and closed his eyes.
*
Hobbes just looked at him silently from the bed, needles and tubes sticking out of his furry body. The doctor pulled out a huge syringe. Calvin couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move faster than a snail’s pace, trying to keep the doctor from doing anything with it. The doctor heedlessly plunged the needle into one of the tubes, saying that all animals with cancer should be put to sleep, so they wouldn’t suffer needlessly.
Calvin shook the bars, trying to get into the tiger exhibit, trying to call for Hobbes, stop it stop it stop it, save Hobbes!
Tap.
Hobbes closed his eyes.
Tap.
Oh, Hobbes!
Tap.
Tap.
Golden sunshine streamed through his bedroom window as that annoying noise dragged Calvin out of his dream. Rubbing at the tears and snot on his face, he sat up and opened the window just as Susie Derkins was preparing to throw another pebble.
“Hey,” she called. She’d changed out of her black skirt and into her usual shorts, t-shirt, and boots. She glanced at him, then looked towards the woods.
“Hey,” Calvin muttered, resting an elbow on the sill. What did she want?
She looked uncomfortable for a moment, then hoisted a backpack strap higher on her shoulder. “I’m going for a walk,” she said. “Would … could I take Hobbes?”
Whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it. He glanced at his computer table to see Hobbes cocking an ear. “What?”
“You can come along, too, if you’d like.” She swatted a bug away from her face, looking like she wished she was anywhere else. “I packed tuna fish.”
Interested, Hobbes leaned forward. Calvin could almost hear his gravelly voice again: Tuna fish? Calvin scowled, not sure if he was more irritated with the girl who was waking his tiger up or the tiger who was succumbing to the girl’s tricks. “Hobbes,” he repeated, disdain dripping from his voice.
Pink spread across Susie’s cheeks as she studied Mom’s roses in front of her. “He’s always been a good listener.” But then she looked straight into Calvin’s red eyes and said, “Come on.”
Her eyes were red, too.
Calvin looked at Hobbes again. His best friend seemed to be coming out of a decade-long sleep. He nodded to Calvin, who nodded to Susie.
***
Very rough draft, not beta read. Only vague ideas of where I'd go after that. I must obey the muse; if I don't, she might go away and never come back.
calvin.hobbes.suzy.manga style by ~nami86 on deviantART
Calvin had yanked the stifling black jacket and tie off him as soon as he was in the house, Uncle Max holding the door open for Dad behind him. He was so sick of people! How many different ways were there to reply to, “I’m sorry about your mother, Calvin”? He’d stopped talking about two hours ago. If he said anything else, he’d lose it. Ignoring his growling stomach, he went upstairs and slammed the door.
He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t go out there, he couldn’t stay in here. He couldn’t talk, but he couldn’t stay silent.
Hobbes stopped talking years ago, but he still held a place of honor on Calvin’s work table. Three computers, fifteen programming books, hundreds of games, and a threadbare tiger with only one eye. Calvin looked at the old toy -- his best friend, at one time -- and desperately wished he could talk to somebody.
Shucking his pants off, he flopped into bed and closed his eyes.
Hobbes just looked at him silently from the bed, needles and tubes sticking out of his furry body. The doctor pulled out a huge syringe. Calvin couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move faster than a snail’s pace, trying to keep the doctor from doing anything with it. The doctor heedlessly plunged the needle into one of the tubes, saying that all animals with cancer should be put to sleep, so they wouldn’t suffer needlessly.
Calvin shook the bars, trying to get into the tiger exhibit, trying to call for Hobbes, stop it stop it stop it, save Hobbes!
Tap.
Hobbes closed his eyes.
Tap.
Oh, Hobbes!
Tap.
Tap.
Golden sunshine streamed through his bedroom window as that annoying noise dragged Calvin out of his dream. Rubbing at the tears and snot on his face, he sat up and opened the window just as Susie Derkins was preparing to throw another pebble.
“Hey,” she called. She’d changed out of her black skirt and into her usual shorts, t-shirt, and boots. She glanced at him, then looked towards the woods.
“Hey,” Calvin muttered, resting an elbow on the sill. What did she want?
She looked uncomfortable for a moment, then hoisted a backpack strap higher on her shoulder. “I’m going for a walk,” she said. “Would … could I take Hobbes?”
Whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it. He glanced at his computer table to see Hobbes cocking an ear. “What?”
“You can come along, too, if you’d like.” She swatted a bug away from her face, looking like she wished she was anywhere else. “I packed tuna fish.”
Interested, Hobbes leaned forward. Calvin could almost hear his gravelly voice again: Tuna fish? Calvin scowled, not sure if he was more irritated with the girl who was waking his tiger up or the tiger who was succumbing to the girl’s tricks. “Hobbes,” he repeated, disdain dripping from his voice.
Pink spread across Susie’s cheeks as she studied Mom’s roses in front of her. “He’s always been a good listener.” But then she looked straight into Calvin’s red eyes and said, “Come on.”
Her eyes were red, too.
Calvin looked at Hobbes again. His best friend seemed to be coming out of a decade-long sleep. He nodded to Calvin, who nodded to Susie.
Very rough draft, not beta read. Only vague ideas of where I'd go after that. I must obey the muse; if I don't, she might go away and never come back.
