Exploding Dogs
It was a warm, lazy Sunday morning when the Barebone children were abruptly roused from their beds. The smell of fish and peas wafted through the air, signaling that it was time for the annual family reunion. Credence, Chastity, and Modesty exchanged weary glances, knowing that the day ahead would be anything but ordinary. They had been tasked with filling a bathtub and preparing eggs filled with mashed peas, an odd yet traditional dish that somehow always found its way to the reunion's potluck.
Their mother, Mary Lou, stumbled into the kitchen, her eyes bloodshot and her breath reeking of moonshine. She had been up all night, working on a new leaf machine that could produce a bouquet of leaves at the pull of a string. The contraption was a mess of gears and levers, but she insisted it was going to be the hit of the party. "Hurry up, you three!" she slurred, tossing a handful of peas at them. "We've got to leave soon!"
With a sigh, Credence picked up the eggs and followed his sisters outside to the car. Chastity held Ivan, the family's leafy pet, awkwardly in her arms, trying to keep his branches from scratching the upholstery. Modesty clutched a small bag of bitter grass candy, a gift from their Aunt Mary, who swore by its calming properties. The journey to the reunion was always an adventure, one fraught with chaos and the occasional magic.
As they piled into the car, Credence couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Sure, Mary Lou's driving was as erratic as ever, but there was a tension in the air that even the sweet scent of the pea eggs couldn't mask. Chastity was unusually quiet, and Modesty looked ready to burst into tears. He wished he could say something to comfort them, but he knew that words wouldn't change the reality of their situation.
The drive to the reunion was a blur of near misses and swerves that had the children bouncing in their seats. Each jolt and jostle brought the eggs closer to their doom, and Credence cradled them protectively in his lap. Finally, they arrived at the park where the reunion was being held. The sight that greeted them was one they had seen many times before: a sea of mismatched lawn chairs, a few drooping balloons, and a smattering of relatives milling about, all looking slightly uncomfortable in their Sunday best.
Their grandmother, Jeanne, was already there, setting up a table laden with food. She looked up as they approached, her eyes widening at the sight of Ivan. "Mary Lou," she said sternly, "you know we don't bring those...things to family gatherings."
Mary Lou giggled, swaying slightly. "Oh, but Ivan's special, aren't you, my little leafy love?" She kissed the top of his head, leaving a smudge of moonshine on one of the leaves.
Jeanne rolled her eyes and turned her attention to her grandchildren. "How have you all been?" she asked, her voice warm.
"Fine," Credence murmured, his stomach turning at the thought of the pea eggs. He couldn't imagine how his grandmother could be so unfazed by their mother's behavior.
"Good, good," Jeanne said, her gaze flicking over to the leaf machine in the trunk. "Let's get this all set up, shall we?"
And so the chaos began. Mary Lou stumbled through greetings, Ivan shed leaves everywhere, and the pea eggs remained a looming threat to the picnic. Yet amidst the madness, Credence found a semblance of peace. For a few moments, as they worked together to lay out the food and arrange the chairs, it almost felt like a normal family. Almost.
The first sign of trouble came when Credence's Uncle Larry took a bite of a pea egg. His face twisted into a grimace as he chewed, and he spat it out dramatically. "What in the name of all that's holy is this?" he exclaimed, holding the egg up like it was a piece of rotten fruit.
Mary Lou beamed with pride. "It's my new recipe! The peas are a symbol of our ancestral purity, and the eggs... well, they're just eggs. But with peas inside!"
The crowd looked on in horror as Uncle Larry threw the egg back onto the plate, where it landed with a wet splat. "This is what you're serving?" he demanded.
"It's a delicacy," Chastity offered weakly. "An acquired taste."
"More like a taste of the dumpster," Modesty whispered, though she had the good sense to cover her mouth with her hand.
The tension grew thicker than the scent of the peas as relatives took turns trying to be polite, then failing miserably. The children watched as plates of food were passed around, hoping against hope that no one would notice their mother's contribution. But it was too late. The eggs had been discovered, and the whispers began.
Before long, the whispers grew into outright arguing. Some relatives claimed that peas and eggs were a culinary abomination, while others defended Mary Lou's creativity. Credence felt a headache building as he tried to listen to the various complaints and defenses, his eyes never leaving the plate of pea eggs that sat forlornly on the table, surrounded by uneaten food.
"This is ridiculous," Jeanne said finally, her voice cutting through the din. She marched over to the table and picked up one of the eggs, examining it with a critical eye. "Mary Lou, you can't expect people to eat this. It's not right."
Mary Lou's smile faded, and she stumbled over to her mother, her eyes brimming with tears. "But, Mama, I worked so hard on them!"
"You're always working hard, darling," Jeanne said, her tone gentle but firm. "But sometimes, you just need to know when to stop. Now, let's put these away and find you something to eat that won't make you sick."
The family reunion went on, the pea eggs forgotten in the grand scheme of things. But for Credence, the moment lingered, a stark reminder of the oddness that surrounded his life. Yet as the day grew long and the sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, he couldn't help but feel a strange kinship with the other Barebones. For all their quirks and flaws, they were his, and he was theirs. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.
As the last of the relatives packed up their things and said their goodbyes, Jeanne pulled her grandchildren aside. "You know, kids," she said, her eyes shining with a rare seriousness, "being a Barebone means being a little bit different. But it's those differences that make us special. And no matter what anyone says, you three are the most special to me."
Modesty sniffled and buried her face in Jeanne's skirt. Chastity nodded solemnly, and even Credence felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the moonshine-laden air. They were a strange, leafy bunch, but they were family.
The ride home was quieter than the trip there. Ivan was out of leaves and asleep in the backseat, and Mary Lou had passed out with a half-empty bottle of moonshine clutched to her chest. Jeanne drove with a firm grip on the steering wheel, her eyes on the road ahead.
As the lights of the city grew closer, Credence looked out the window, watching the world go by. He knew the days ahead would be filled with more of the same: the struggle to control his obscurial powers, the never-ending battle to be accepted. But for now, in the quiet of the car, with the smell of peas fading into the night, he felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps, with the love of his grandmother and the solidarity of his siblings, he could find a way to belong. Perhaps he could even find a way to make Mary Lou proud without losing himself in the process.
But that was a thought for another day. For now, they had to deal with the aftermath of the reunion. As they pulled into their driveway, Mary Lou stirred from her drunken slumber, blinking blearily. "What...what happened?" she mumbled, her hand going to her empty glass.
"You had a bit too much to drink, Mother," Chastity said, her voice tight with the strain of the day's events.
Mary Lou frowned. "No, no, that's not right...I don't remember..."
Credence felt his heart sink as he saw his mother's face. Her eyes searched the car, and then they fell on Ivan, curled up in the backseat. The leafy creature looked up at her with a sleepy gaze, and something in her expression shifted. It was a look he had seen before, but never in front of his grandmother.
"Ivan," she whispered, and it was a name filled with something more than just affection. It was a name that held a secret.
"Mary Lou," Jeanne said, her voice firm, "now is not the time for this."
But it was too late. With a speed that belied her inebriated state, Mary Lou lunged for Ivan, her arms wrapping around him in a fierce embrace. "My little leaf," she cooed, pressing her face into his foliage.
The silence in the car was palpable, and even Ivan seemed to sense the tension, his leaves rustling uneasily.
"Mother," Credence said, his voice low and warning, "you know that's not appropriate."
"What? He's just a pet!" Chastity exclaimed, her eyes wide with horror. "What are you doing?"
Mary Lou pulled back, her cheeks flushing. "I...I just love him, that's all," she said defensively. "Don't you love him too?"
Jeanne sighed heavily. "Mary Lou, you know that's not what we're talking about."
The children watched in shock as their mother and grandmother exchanged a heated glance, the tension in the air thickening. It was clear that there was something more to Mary Lou's relationship with Ivan than they had ever been led to believe.
"Let's just get inside," Jeanne said, cutting off any further argument. "We can talk about this tomorrow."
They managed to get Mary Lou and Ivan into the house without any further incidents, though the look on Jeanne's face spoke volumes. As they settled into their beds that night, the whispers of their mother's words echoed in their minds. What did she mean, 'my little leaf'? Was it just a term of endearment, or something more?
The next morning, the house was eerily quiet. Credence padded down the stairs to find Jeanne sitting at the kitchen table, a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. The pea eggs remained untouched on the counter, a sad reminder of the previous day's events.
"Grandma?"
"Yes, Credence?"
He took a deep breath. "What's going on with Mom and Ivan?"
Jeanne's eyes met his, and for a moment, she said nothing. Then she sighed. "Your mother has always been...different," she began, choosing her words carefully. "She's always had a special bond with nature, with the leaves and the trees and...well, Ivan. But sometimes, that bond goes too far."
"Too far?"
"It's not right, Credence. What she feels for that...that creature. It's not natural."
"But he's not just a creature," Credence protested. "He's part of us."
"I know you believe that," Jeanne said gently. "But sometimes, love can be twisted by the things we fear. And your mother fears losing you children, losing everything she has. And in her mind, Ivan is the only thing she has left that's truly pure."
The words hit him like a ton of bricks. He had always known his mother was strange, but this was something else entirely. A secret that had been right in front of him all along, hidden in plain sight.
"We need to get her help," Jeanne continued. "Real help, not just prayers and potions. Maybe there's a way to heal her mind, to help her understand that love comes in many forms, and that her family is here for her."
The gravity of the situation settled heavily on Credence's shoulders. He had always felt like an outsider, but now he realized that his mother was even more lost than he had ever been. And it was up to him to help her find her way back.
But first, they had to deal with the underwear.
Mary Lou had left a trail of discarded garments from the kitchen to her bedroom, where she now lay in a tangle of leaves and fabric, Ivan curled up protectively beside her. Chastity had already started to clean up the mess, her nose wrinkled in disgust as she picked up a pair of soggy panties. "Mother really outdid herself this time," she murmured, tossing the offending item into the trash.
Credence couldn't help but laugh a little at the absurdity of it all. The Barebones were never a conventional family, but this was a new low. And yet, amidst the chaos, he felt a strange sense of belonging. It was in moments like these that he knew they were all in this together.
"I'll get the rest," he said, taking a deep breath. "You two go wake up Modesty."
As he gathered the last of the underwear, his mind raced with thoughts of his mother and the leaf creature she had come to cherish so much. What kind of help could they get for her? And what would it mean for Ivan? Would they have to separate them? The thought brought a pang of sadness to his heart. Despite his initial fear, Ivan had grown on him. He had become a part of their strange little family.
The sound of laughter pulled him from his thoughts. He followed it to the living room, where Modesty was playing dress-up with a pair of his grandmother's shoes, her own little feet lost in the depths of them. Chastity sat on the floor, trying to coax a giggle out of her with a handful of leaves. It was a rare moment of levity in their otherwise tumultuous lives.
"Look, Credence," Chastity said, holding out a pair of fishnet stockings. "I think these might suit you."
He rolled his eyes and took them from her, tossing them into the trash with the rest of the laundry. "Very funny."
"It's all just a bit much, isn't it?" she said, her smile fading. "But we're here for each other. That's what family does."
He nodded, feeling the weight of her words. "Let's just get through today," he said, "and then we'll figure out tomorrow."
The siblings worked together, cleaning up the mess their mother had made and preparing themselves for the day ahead. As they worked, they talked in hushed tones, sharing their fears and worries. They knew that their mother needed them, but they were scared of what it might take to save her.
When the last piece of underwear was safely tucked away, they gathered around the table, a makeshift family unit united by more than just blood. They had a plan to get their mother help, and they were going to stick together, no matter what.
As they held hands and bowed their heads for a silent prayer, Credence couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, they could conquer whatever came their way. After all, they were Barebones, and if there was one thing they knew, it was that sometimes the strangest bonds could be the strongest.
The next day was a blur of phone calls and internet searches, the siblings determined to find a way to help their mother. They stumbled upon a peculiar ad in a local paper, advertising a retreat for those who had "strayed from the path of the natural order." It sounded a bit cultish, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
"Maybe they can help her," Chastity said, her voice hopeful. "They claim to have a program that can cure...whatever it is she has."
"And Ivan?" Modesty asked, her eyes wide with worry.
"We'll find a good home for him," Credence assured her. "Somewhere safe where he can be...I don't know, a leaf without us."
It was a bittersweet thought, but they all knew it was for the best. They couldn't continue living like this, with Mary Lou's obsession threatening to tear them apart.
The day of the retreat arrived, and the siblings held their breath as they loaded Ivan into the car alongside their mother. She was sober now, but still clung to Ivan like a lifeline. They pulled into the retreat's gravel driveway, the sound of chirping birds and rustling leaves the only sound. The building was a quaint cottage, surrounded by a lush garden that was a stark contrast to the pea-laden mess they had left behind.
"Remember," Jeanne said, her voice firm, "you're doing this for her."
They nodded, and with a final squeeze of their mother's hand, they watched as she disappeared through the doorway, Ivan in tow.
The weeks that followed were the hardest they had ever faced. Without Ivan, the house felt empty, and Mary Lou's mood swings were more erratic than ever. But the siblings remained steadfast in their love for each other, finding comfort in the dull ache of their shared loss.
And then, one morning, a letter arrived. It was from their mother, written in a shaky hand but filled with a warmth they hadn't felt in a long time. "I'm getting better," she wrote. "They're helping me understand that there's more to life than just leaves and peas."
The three of them huddled around the kitchen table, the smell of burnt toast forgotten as they read the words that brought hope to their hearts.
"Maybe," Credence said, looking up from the letter, "maybe this is our chance to start over."
"Without Ivan?" Modesty sniffled.
"Without the...without the weirdness," Chastity amended.
They laughed, a real laugh, the first in what felt like forever. And in that moment, the dampish bread of their lives seemed a little less stale. They had each other, and they had hope.
And sometimes, that was all you needed to keep going.
The day after the reunion, the house was a mess. Pea-stained clothes were scattered everywhere, and there was a faint aroma of burnt hair that lingered from Ivan's near-death experience with the candles. Chastity had managed to clean up the kitchen before collapsing into bed, but the rest of the house was a minefield of leafy debris. Credence took a deep breath and surveyed the damage, his stomach churning.
But the worst was yet to come.
As he turned to head upstairs, his foot connected with something squishy. Looking down, he realized with dawning horror that it was a pile of Mary Lou's... contributions to the floor. "Chastity!" he yelled, holding back a gag. "I think we need to re-evaluate our pet care protocols!"
His sister appeared at the top of the stairs, looking exhausted. "What now?"
"Mom had an accident," he called back.
Her face fell, and she sighed heavily. "Again?"
"Looks like it," Credence said, eyeing the mess. "I'll grab the broom."
The two of them set to work, cleaning up the mess while trying not to step in it. It was a delicate operation, one that required a certain level of finesse that neither of them had at six in the morning. They worked in silence, both lost in their own thoughts about the previous night.
"Do you think Mom will ever get better?" Modesty asked as she padded into the room, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
The question hit him like a sledgehammer. He didn't know how to answer her. They had been through so much, and he had hoped that the retreat would be the solution to their mother's...issues. But the foul reality of the situation was staring him in the face, quite literally.
"We can only hope," Chastity said, her voice tight. "And do our best to support her."
"But what if she doesn't want to get better?"
They both looked at each other, the unspoken fear hanging in the air. They had seen their mother's obsession with Ivan grow, consuming her until she had nearly forgotten who they were. And now, with him gone, who knew what she would do.
But they couldn't think about that now. They had to deal with the present. And the present was a floor covered in leafy feces.
After what felt like an eternity, they had managed to scrub the floor clean. They threw the ruined rug out into the yard, and Modesty began to play outside, her laughter floating through the open window.
"We can't keep doing this," Chastity said, her voice low.
"I know," Credence agreed. "But we don't have a choice."
They both knew what the other was thinking. They had to find a way to help their mother, to save her from herself. And Ivan, as much as they had grown to love him, was a part of the problem.
They sat on the steps, looking out into the yard where their sister played. The sun was shining, and for a moment, it almost felt like a normal day.
But there was nothing normal about the Barebones.
And as they sat there, the sound of the doorbell rang out, shattering the quiet. Credence's heart sank. Who could it be this time? Another uncle with a new leafy invention? Another neighbor with a complaint about Ivan?
They both took a deep breath and prepared themselves for whatever came next. Because that's what you did in a family like theirs. You took the good with the bad, the peas with the... well, you get the picture.
As they made their way to the door, Credence couldn't help but feel a strange sense of pride. They had survived the reunion, the car ride, and even the pea eggs. If they could get through this, they could get through anything.
But what awaited them on the other side of the door was something none of them had ever anticipated. A man in a lab coat, holding a clipboard and a very serious expression.
"Are you the Barebone children?" he asked. "I'm Dr. Evergreen from the retreat. We need to talk about your mother."
The words hit them like a cold shower on a winter morning. "Is she okay?" Chastity blurted out, her hand on the doorknob.
"Physically, yes," the doctor said, his tone carefully measured. "But emotionally, she's quite distraught."
They led him into the living room, where the smell of cleaning products barely masked the underlying scent of leaf decay. Dr. Evergreen took a seat and cleared his throat. "Your mother has made some progress, but she's had a setback. She's become...attached to another creature."
Credence felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Another one?"
"I'm afraid so. It's a bird this time. She's named it Feather."
"Oh no," Chastity murmured, her eyes wide. "Not again."
The doctor nodded gravely. "It's not good. This obsession is only growing stronger, and we're at a loss as to how to treat it. We need to understand more about her history with Ivan, and the...unusual bond she formed with him. It's essential for her recovery."
The siblings looked at each other, the weight of their secret heavy on their shoulders. They had hoped Ivan was a one-time thing, a phase their mother would outgrow. But now it seemed like it was something deeper, something they couldn't ignore anymore.
"What can we do?" Credence asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Bring her home," Dr. Evergreen said. "We need to work with her in a controlled environment, with the support of her family. We believe that with time and therapy, she can learn to form healthy relationships again. Without the...distractions."
They nodded, too stunned to speak. Bringing their mother home meant bringing back the chaos, but they had no other choice. They had to help her, no matter what it took.
As they walked the doctor out, the siblings couldn't shake the feeling that their lives were about to get a whole lot more complicated. But they were Barebones. They had faced down pea-filled eggs, drunken rampages, and exploding dogs. If they could survive that, surely they could handle one more leafy crisis.
"We'll talk to Grandma," Chastity said, her voice firm. "We'll figure this out."
Credence nodded, trying to ignore the knot in his stomach. It's not good, he thought. But it could be worse. And somehow, that was the most comforting thought he had had in weeks.
When they told Jeanne, she took it better than expected. "We'll manage," she said, her eyes steely. "We always do."
And so, they knew it wouldn't be easy, but they were ready. For better or for worse, they were family, and they had to stick together.