Teaching a Fox New Tricks
Caroline. Myrand lost himself on comparing the sweetness in her name to anything else. The Periwinkle perfume failed to match, hints catching his nose when the breeze blew past them. Even the Irish salts exuding from their beachfront paled in contrast with her name, Caroline, like caramel—how the word rolls off the tongue and leaves the lips hanging. He imagined the name leaving a faint breath of her scent and every time he spoke of her the aroma greeted his nostrils. In his world, the contending element against Caroline was the woman herself.
Standing at eye level to he, she appeared as a Jamaican Venus in the flesh. Her hair was milked chocolate during the day, but like chocolate it changes tints from dusk till nighttime. Virgin gold peered out from her eyes, captivating attention whenever she smiled. Her dimples plumped at the ends of her lips, shined when she laughed, even blushed as they swapped past times together in their Irish retreat. She brought fruits from her homeland with her and the coconuts, melons, and terracotta left him weak in the knees.
Nighttime settled outside their balcony. Creatures melody their voices into the bedroom where Myrand cuddled atop her, Mrs. William Jacob Myrand, and left the balcony doors wide to enjoy them. She wore the white lace lingerie that went underneath her gown in the wedding this morning, which highlighted her sun bronzed skin, contoured with her muscled thighs. Her bra seemed vulnerable temptation, the back strap unhooked and the shoulder straps falling down her arms.
"I love you Mrs. Caroline Myrand."
"And I you Mr. William
Myrand," She drew forward and kissed him. Grace's sake, Heaven!
"Isn't it beautiful?
"Yes, the
Caroline snickered and kissed his lips. "You're doing it again."
"What?"
"You're not telling the whole story." She said. "Being modest gets you nowhere with me, remember that."
Myrand leaned on her, timing his finger strokes down her arm so at the last moment he dragged the bra strap further off her arm. "Modest? Who said anything about it?"
"Not only did you fall in love with a fellow Dragoon, but you saved her from the most feral digimon I've ever seen. Hard to believe these strong muscles beat back so many beasts."
Myrand's chest inflated, smile chiseled on his broad face. "Ah it was nothing." Oh Grace, no tan lines, she has no tan lines! "So how about I show you what else these muscles can do?"
"In your dreams."
"Oh a tough one ain't ya, still got a little Jade Dragoon in the blood stream?"
"No." Caroline said. "Only in your dreams."
"What do you mean, are you asking for divorce?"
"I'm sorry Myrand," Caroline Myrand kissed him, "Someday you'll treat a real woman like you have for me this moment." Her legs tucked underneath his chest. Myrand stuttered in surprise. "Even though we're in your dream, there's someone out there who loves you."
Myrand shook his head. "No. This isn't making sense."
"I love you." Caroline Myrand whispered in his ear.
The man felt his stomach kick. He glanced down to see Caroline's feet extend upward, him in tow, sending him airborne. An anguished moan left his mouth while writhing in mid air, hanging in slow seconds before catching a glimpse of carpeting grow larger. Time plunged fast-forward and Myrand descended, swimming both arms and legs, dread clotting his mind. Confused and bewildered, shock froze his vocals. Blackness rushed and engulfed him.
Myrand's body collided on soft carpet. The impact sent the remaining air from his lungs, leaving him breathless. For a moment he laid there, thinking, more afraid of what happens every time he opened his eyes after an encounter like Caroline. Despite of such dangers, he did anyway. A graying slate of white ceiling greeted him, lofty snores coming from the couch above his head, and sudden dryness in his mouth. A paintbrush tail dipped down and tickled his arm.
No, not again. Caroline is real. Myrand swore Caroline Richards, the medic of the 102nd Jade Dragoon Division, married him. It wasn't fantasy, he must of fell asleep after they made love and somehow this churned into a nightmare, yes, and pretty soon he'll wake up.
Clouded in his denial, he sat up. Both Renamon curled together to his left. Noticing Kiyra's foot protruding from the comforters and her sleeping smile, the fantasy of Caroline Richards Myrand shattered in his mind, falling backwards on the carpet again. He balled his fists at himself. They shook in anger, anger of flat lining for a sculpted woman whom shared the same job. He met her inside a field hospital after a mission in Beirut, responsible for monitoring his condition until fit for duty, but he grew friendly with the young woman of twenty-two. They parted before an exchange of addresses.
Myrand sighed. "Somewhere out there." He said, settling his eyes out the window, at Shinjuku's bustling morning. "I'll find someone real."
The after image of Caroline left a bitter taste in his mouth. He stood up and lumbered towards the bathroom, closed the door behind him, turning the Tap on. He gargled two capfuls of Listerine before spitting it in the basin, gums burning from treatment. The morning routine lasted two minutes then he trotted into the kitchen. By the time Myrand set coffee to percolate on his kitchen counter, he forgot love life and Caroline Richards, focused on the week's tasks.
Opening a small kitchen drawer, Myrand whisked out a writing pad and small ballpoint pen from nearby, setting them on the living room table. He filled a cup with coffee and sat down. Rix slumbered beside him in cushioned snores and sleep talk, morning light beating upon his Calico fur. Myrand glanced at him, the pad, towards the digimon again. He shook his head. Most of these agendas would include teaching basic use of human accessories, ones neither digimon experienced before; however, the accessories should be simple and obvious.
"Basics … What could Rix learn on a child's level?" Myrand surprised himself. "That didn't come out right."
Awkward yes, but accurate. The statement conjured the agendas title: Rix's new tricks. Again it sounded degrading to Myrand, yet the accuracy refused anything else. He brought his lips on the coffee mug, drawing in enough coarse roasts to swill around. Decision now sanded down to what accessory gets tortured first. He swilled more coffee. Its aftertaste left something desired, combining Listerine and toothpaste far stronger, warped bitterness on the tongue.
Myrand grimaced. Listerine crushed flavor for hours on end, leaving regret whenever he gargled. An idea flashed in his head like a blunt object striking the skull. He fumbled the ballpoint in one grip and scribbled the first task on the first line labeled number one. Writing a single word the pen dropped from his hand, he read it to himself, smiling.
Rix's new tricks
1. Monday-Personal Hygiene
"Well I'll be damned. That was simple." He continued scribbling ideas until drafting seven tasks for each day. Sated, he tact the list on the refrigerator door so Rix could monitor his progress, and from there they would expand to other things in due time.
His hands felt for the coffee cup. He found the coaster, an indented ring where it sat, but absent coffee. Puzzlement creased along his brow, looking across the living room table searching for his morning caffeine. Something gulped beside him. Another gulp following a humbled purr and the empty cup in question popped back onto the coaster. The furry culprit readjusted his jade gloves, tonguing his lips.
Rix glanced at Myrand. "Got any more?"
"Well good morning to you, ya coffee swiping fox. That was my first cup."
"Coffee?" Rix scooted next to him. "What's it made from?"
"Coffee beans."
Rix frowned. "There's no such thing as coffee beans, you're just making fun of me." Myrand chuckled, scratching between the ears. "How can anyone make a drink from beans?"
"One thing at a time Rix," He said. "For today I'll teach you how to spruce up in the morning. Brushing your teeth, washing your face, and maybe cleaning your ears while we're at it."
The digimon's ears flattened. "We're not going in a car are we?"
"No, no car today. If you want some coffee before we start, pot's on the counter top and mugs are in the upper cabinet."
Rix detached from the couch and traipsed into the kitchen while stretching out the morning kinks. When he disappeared from sight, a shuffling caught Myrand's attention. He glanced leftwards. The discarded comforters inched down the cushions like a street cleaner, jellyfished over two cushions, stopping before the third. It's head elevated, sloping above his knee. It growled at him. After going on for minutes the estranged comforter's head came to rest on his knee, sighing in contempt.
"I didn't cook breakfast yet, you'll have to wait."
Kiyra's snout dug out from her comforter. "What's keeping you?"
Myrand pushed back the covers, scratching between her ears. "Why can’t you be a morning Renamon like Rix is?"
"I'm female and female's need their beauty sleep and hot breakfast when they wake up. Now mosey into that kitchen and make me some pancakes. Tell that partner of yours to get cracking with some orange juice, I'm thirsty." She bossed. "Put the T.V. on a channel with something good on."
"You do realize that'll never happen. It didn't happen three days ago when you wanted me to carry you downstairs onto the couch, and the time you needed thirteen gallons of hair shampoo."
Her claws revealed themselves, threatening Myrand's leather couch. "Breakfast."
"Don't even act like it."
"Then get making the breakfast."
Myrand latched onto both paws before she could finish her breath. She stuttered in response, still dazed when he pinned them against her gut. A growl escaped her lips, detecting feeling in her arms, tensing in attempt to pry him off. He lifted her straight into sitting before tackling her on the comforters. She growled again, flailed once in her place sending covers between them. Seeing those blue-eyes wide and frustrated, he released the paws, wrapping an arm around her neck while giving another scratch behind the ears.
"I'll make a deal with you. Today I planned on teaching Rix how to spruce up in the morning, which means he'll be using your stuff for the time being." Her maw opened to protest, but he stroked it shut. "In return, I'll go to the store today for some food, and tomorrow those fruit filled crapes will be on the menu. Sound good?"
Her glare caught him off guard. "I despise you." She mumbled.
"Good then, you don’t mind."
Myrand scratched around her neck and stomach, hearing purrs in response as Rix strode in. Both paws held simmering cups, the steam filtering over the lips' and dissolved into air, earthen coffee aroma drifting around them. Myrand noticed his eyes grew wide at Kiyra, who settled in across his lap. He beckoned the Renamon to join them and place both cups on the coasters set out. Soon Rix clambered on his mate and sipped some coffee.
"You need to make another pot." He said, "I drained the last of it."
Kiyra nuzzled him between short kisses. "Your breath stinks."
"It's coffee, doesn't it smell great?"
"Gods no, that smell is horrible."
Rix looked up at Myrand. "I thought coffee was good for you." The marine reassured him. "Why does my breath stink then?"
"Hazards of drinking it buddy. You need to brush your teeth." He said. Rix cocked his head. "Don’t worry, I'll show you when you're finished."
While the digimon sipped his coffee, Myrand explained what morning sprucing meant and the human necessities he'd use every morning. Simple tasks needed broader explanation, toothbrushes and washcloths sounded like alien artifacts. Sometimes Rix discouraged the lesson, shifting from curiosity to puzzlement, often drove a chuckle or two. Kiyra bemused underneath her mate in silence while her eyes studied the contorting face of her beloved. Despite the muddle, he finished before the coffee cup rest on the coaster, empty.
Myrand strode toward the bathroom. "Come on Rix, time to get spruced up."
"Coming."
In the bathroom, a dog's toothbrush rest on the sink lip. Beside it rest a half-squeezed toothpaste tube. Rix armed the brush with toothpaste and moistened its bristles in warm water. He curled his lips, revealing nail sized teeth, poised it inches away from his gums. He stopped short.
"How do I brush again?" Myrand vertically swathed his fingers along his lips in the mirror. "Against the gums?" He nodded.
Rix brushed his teeth. Minutes later he developed pink lather around his maw, but he kept brushing. "Now don't be goofy and eat the toothpaste. It's not edible." The Renamon mumbled his reply. "You're such a trip, just plain goofy sometimes." Myrand commented.
Finished brushing, Rix spit the lather out and attempted rinsing his mouth out in the sink. Now Myrand knew animals rinsed taking water on the tongue then filter it through the maw, which Kiyra does as well, but nothing prepared what his partner did. Instead of lapping at it, he shoved his head under the water flow, arching his teeth so each one was doused in water. Moments after he pulled away. Maw soaked, Rix glanced at Myrand.
"How was that?"
"Not bad." Myrand wrapped an arm around his partner, drying off excess moisture with a towel. "A bit rough on rinsing but everyone's different."
"So I'm spruced up now?"
"Oh you're spruced up, definitely something else too. Pretty soon all these human gadgets will seem like second nature."
Rix perked. "Like shooting a gun?"
Myrand's eyes widened. "Just hold onto your fur ya goofy fox, one thing at a time."
"When do I get to shoot one?"
"You're serious." Rix cocked his head. "Grace's sake, you are serious!"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Shooting a gun takes hours of practice," Myrand said. "It took me a year just to function a pistol, even more with a scoped rifle, so I don’t think you’d have enough patience for it. Besides, the noise would probably shed the fur right off your shivering body. Aren't you satisfied with the attacks you already have?"
Rix's gaze fell to the floor, and after studying it's tiles he looked up to Myrand. "I don’t have any."
"What?"
"No matter how hard I tried, nothing."
"Rix—"
"All I managed to fend myself off was these." Rix held up his paws. "Balled them into fists and attacked with punches. Opponents laughed at me, using their born attacks to wipe me in the dirt. I held my ground the best my body could take. When it started to crumble I ran. I ran a whole day one time. At night I looked into the scum alleyways for a solid place to sleep, crying until then. There was no place in the digital world for me.
"My parents knew it. God they knew it the day I was born and got rid of me as soon as possible. The male Flamedramon knew it too, which probably sent him more into a blind rage." Rix dug his claws into the sink. "At the lab all I could do was crawl into a corner while the human soldiers killed everyone, an explosion sent that heavy thing on top of me, I couldn't bare the weight either. What good am I? What good is a digimon to his partner when he can’t even defend himself?"
Myrand placed a hand on his soldier. "He's everything I could ever ask for."
"You don't mean that."
"I do." Myrand said. "You might not understand it until later, but nothing else could replace you."
"You're just saying that."
"Like I said, you might not understand. So far you've been like a best friend towards me, a soldier could never ask for more. Think about it. You've risked so much in coming here, gave me your trust, and even braved coming here in the first place. You're not weak at all and it's not just from me."
"Who else?"
Myrand smiled. He led Rix into the kitchen near the threshold into the living room and stopped at the edge. He pointed, finger centered on Kiyra settled on the couches, attention towards the television. Seeing her there forced Rix's ears flat against his head, shame pooled in his eyes. Again Myrand placed a hand on his shoulder.
"She thinks you're the strongest Renamon alive."
"I haven’t told her yet."
Myrand whispered in his ear. "I'll help you find your attacks. When night falls we'll go out and look together okay?" Rix nodded. "Now keep her busy before she blows up about not eating breakfast. Grace's sake she eats like a pig."