Shorties

Hatsu stared at the screen. That didn’t make sense.
They checked the numbers again. Nothing wrong. Maybe the formula then? Neither.
They didn’t have it in them to even sigh. It wasn’t the first time there was such a massive fuck-up in the legislation; that was just a weekly occurrence in their job. And who was left to pick up the pieces and fix everything all the time? No one knew how much of this country was riding on the shoulders of a single overtired worker — who couldn’t even stand the taste of coffee.

They turned to their coworker. “Michitarō?”
No response. They waved in front of his face until he took his headphones off and looked at them. “What?”
“I need advice. Or reassurance. Or plausible deniability.”
He looked as unconcerned as ever. “For what? The hero rankings?”
“The parade, specifically. They fucked up big time with the gianting stuff. How the fuck did they think that would go well.”
“Oooh, that’s getting interesting. So you have the results?”
“I guess? But that can’t be right. I mean, with the votes he got, Chargebolt could still fit on Main Street, but Dynamight…” They turned their screen towards him.
Michitarō frowned, seemed to think hard for a moment, then frowned harder. “Uh.”
“Yeah. It’s gonna be an international problem.”
“…And you’re sure the math is correct?”
“I hope not. Can you check?”

He reluctantly scooted his chair over to their desk, took control of their keyboard and started auditing their spreadsheet. “I mean, did they even run simulations before writing this stuff into law? It’s probably their fault, not yours.”
“Hell if I know. With that guy’s ego, maybe they got some of the number-crunchers from his agency to work on this.”
“Look at Dr Ratios here, unveiling a governmental conspiracy on their own~”
They slapped him on the hand. “Shut up, you’re being annoying!”
“And you’re being an idiot, because you used a percentage as a raw factor. How many years did you study stats for, again?”
Hatsu let out a sigh of relieved exasperation. “They didn’t have a class on the intricacies of Excel bugs. If they let us use real software—”
“Oh, fuck off, I don’t wanna hear that rant again. Take it to the higher-ups so they can shove it up theirs, I’m not into that.”
They grumbled and eased up. “Thanks for helping me avoid a diplomatic incident, I guess.”
He scooted back to his desk, unfazed. “I don’t think you’re gonna thank me.”
“…Why?”
“Your mistake was in a divisor.”
Hatsu’s face paled beyond the purest white. Without a word, they apprehensively fixed their mistake and stared at the screen.

Michitarō broke the long silence. “So, how worse is it?”
Hatsu gave him an evil glare and stomped out of the room.
He waited until the door had slammed, glanced at the result, and shrugged. “Guess he’ll have to hold his breath…”

Chris slumped into his office chair, buff arms crossed behind his head and chest puffed out, and propped his feet on his desk, crossed at the ankles. The rubber of his red Converse’s heel crashed into the wood with a thud that felt ear-splitting to the attendees.

“Alright everyone! Welcome to the Universal Sciencey Conference! It’s a pleasure to have been asked to host this 715th edition; I was worried I wouldn’t find space for you, but I think right here is perfect, and you even get the shade of the potted plant!”

The packed crowd of scientists and journalists looked up at the mucky Converse sole, looming so far above them that the facility barely reached up to the thickness of the heel label. The slightest twitch of Chris’ foot would cause sonic booms and mighty quakes, breaking all the expensive equipment brought for demonstration and bringing the attendees to their knees.

“I’ll spare you the bother and the blather, let’s dive into the first presentation. Anyone wanna go first? …I can’t hear any of you, don’t be shy! Alright, I’ll go first to lead the way. So, you all know Schrödingus’ cat, right? It’s when a cat is in a box, it’s both alive and dead, or neither?”
The crowd didn’t nod in approval.
“So, we’ve figured out cats, but what about catboys? I’ve got one right here, let’s experiment!”

With a magickey motion of his hand, Chris appeared a confused Lartse on the palm of his hand, complete with cat ears and a fluffy tail; he blew it a kiss, making it blush intensely, while peeling off his right Converse with his left foot.
“If a cat’s natural habitat is a cardboard box, a catboy’s one is my shoe, so that’s where it’s going in. If you weren’t so small, I’d have asked you guys to take it off for audience participation!”
He lowered his hand, and without any warning, flicked Lartse across the desk with a finger, sending it right into the mouth of his shoe where it crashed into the damp insole. He bent forward, picked up his shoe and put it back on, making sure to press firmly and to lace it closed tight.
“As for how long the experiment should run, I dunno, a few timelines maybe? Gotta make sure the science really breaks in… Okay, next?”

Lartse had never felt such a heat, even in the most extreme depths of its Master.
It was suffocating. What little air — so thick, so still, sandlike — it could breathe would chafe its nostrils and scorch its mouth.
It was melting dry, all energy slowly steaming out. Sprawled out on the sofa, not even the rising motion of the chest, emtombed in an agony it did not have the strength to feel.

Then, breaking the monotony of not-life, a gentle stifle breezed over its face, just enough to make its body flinch, almost bringing it back to consciousness.
Hot. Need cold. Not thoughts, barely instincts. Mechanically it rose to its unsteady feet to plod towards the freezer open the door feel not any relief from the biting ice rummage through the boxes pull out a Popsikwa let the door close plod back slump into the sofa. It pulled the wrapper off faster than it had ever taken off its Master’s socks, and did not even glance at His frozen form inside the popsicle. It hungered for the tepid refreshment, not out of hope for comfort but in the way the apple hungers to rot.
And just like that, it was gone, nothing but warm liquid in its stomach and its minuscule Master on its tongue. It could feel the little thing, stiff as an ice cube, trying to squirm for help, maybe a pathetic yap muffled by the low panting of His microbe. It knew this was its Master who was drowning in its shallow saliva, but it couldn’t recognize this as the man to whom it had given its full life and soul. This was just… something fresh to suck on, each squeeze of the tongue forcing him back into helplessness, quickly drinking the size out of him until whatever was left went down its throat.

Hotter. Need another. Same nothing same motionless movements same stillness of time. This time, it winced when the Kwa was freed from freeze, a sharp tart taste on the tongue. With great pain, it gathered what little saliva was left, and spat him out on the floor.
Dry. Because of him. The thought of an emotion built up into resentment for making it waste such precious droplets. It looked down on him, his crumpled-up form on the burning tiles begging for something it couldn’t hear. Disgusting. Worth no more than a quick stomp under the ball of its foot, no use wiping off the remains.

This had exhausted all the lack of energy out of it. It sprawled out on the sofa again, its head tilted towards the side of the room. All it could see behind the glass was His face, cruel with yearning as He turned the knob slightly further.