AU!Future!Ficlet - Why Being a Citizen Sucks, #63
“Hey, honey-”
“Everything okay?”
“Uh, well, that’s why I’m calling…”
“Not my stimulating conversation that brightens your present housewife existence? I’m crushed.”
“Fuck off.”
“Love you too.”
“So, lets say someone broke in and I killed them. What do I do?”
“…excuse me?”
“We’re all fine! Emiliano’s - Emiliano, if you step one foot out of the living room! - didn’t see anything, the baby is kicking my kidneys like normal, and my hand’s still ringing from using one of the pots as a make-shift weapon, but we’re all okay! It’s just…he’s staining my floor.”
Silence.
“And you have no idea how unnatural it feels to call the cops. But I’m supposed to! Because, I’m a civilian now. And they do things like that.”
“And you haven’t called them yet why…?”
“How do civilians act when they call up and say that they’ve killed someone?”
A snort of laughter. “You’re asking me?”
“Well, sure. You were normal once. Ish.”
“….I really wasn’t.”
“Fuck. Do I…do I cry at them? What…you know, this sucks.”
“I can’t quite see why you’re having problems with this.”
“I don’t know what to do! I know what Ajedrez would do, I know what Beatriz Barillo’d do, I know what Maria and Flor and Leon and half a dozen other people I’ve been would do, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Because, I’m trying to actually be myself for once.” Beat. “I don’t think it’s working.”
“Beatriz. Why don’t you just pretend to be one of those other people? Just until the cops leave.”
“That’d be dishonest.”
“…I’m not going to dignify that with answer, sugarbutt. I’m really not.”
“Well, you’re helpful.”
“Cry at them. They’re used to that. They probably aren’t used to being greeted to a rant about bloodstains on the floor. Well, then again…”
Glumly, “Don’t suppose you care to come home and hold my hand and be all supportive and try and stop me from laughing at them?”
“Is that a trick question?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sure I could make time.”
“Thank you.” Long silence. “Cry at them? Really?”
“Yep.”
“I can hear you smirking at the other end of the telephone. And you know, Sands? Fuck that. I’m going to be in shock. That’s a perfectly normal reaction, isn’t it? I mean, I just cleaned the floor.”
“…I wouldn’t have the faintest idea. You just…do whatever makes you happy.”
“You have no idea how henpecked you sounded just then.”
“Giggling is good. Giggling can be converted to crying, which remains my favourite suggestion.”
“Maybe. See you soon?”
“Sure.”
“Sands…”
“Fine, fine, I’ll be home soon.”
“And now I act profoundly unnatural and call the cops. Being a criminal was so much easier.”
“Shorter life-expectancy.”
“But fun. Although at least this way I don’t have to worry about the body being found…”
“That’s the spirit!”
“Adios, mi amante.”
“Back at you,” and he hangs up.
“Everything okay?”
“Uh, well, that’s why I’m calling…”
“Not my stimulating conversation that brightens your present housewife existence? I’m crushed.”
“Fuck off.”
“Love you too.”
“So, lets say someone broke in and I killed them. What do I do?”
“…excuse me?”
“We’re all fine! Emiliano’s - Emiliano, if you step one foot out of the living room! - didn’t see anything, the baby is kicking my kidneys like normal, and my hand’s still ringing from using one of the pots as a make-shift weapon, but we’re all okay! It’s just…he’s staining my floor.”
Silence.
“And you have no idea how unnatural it feels to call the cops. But I’m supposed to! Because, I’m a civilian now. And they do things like that.”
“And you haven’t called them yet why…?”
“How do civilians act when they call up and say that they’ve killed someone?”
A snort of laughter. “You’re asking me?”
“Well, sure. You were normal once. Ish.”
“….I really wasn’t.”
“Fuck. Do I…do I cry at them? What…you know, this sucks.”
“I can’t quite see why you’re having problems with this.”
“I don’t know what to do! I know what Ajedrez would do, I know what Beatriz Barillo’d do, I know what Maria and Flor and Leon and half a dozen other people I’ve been would do, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Because, I’m trying to actually be myself for once.” Beat. “I don’t think it’s working.”
“Beatriz. Why don’t you just pretend to be one of those other people? Just until the cops leave.”
“That’d be dishonest.”
“…I’m not going to dignify that with answer, sugarbutt. I’m really not.”
“Well, you’re helpful.”
“Cry at them. They’re used to that. They probably aren’t used to being greeted to a rant about bloodstains on the floor. Well, then again…”
Glumly, “Don’t suppose you care to come home and hold my hand and be all supportive and try and stop me from laughing at them?”
“Is that a trick question?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sure I could make time.”
“Thank you.” Long silence. “Cry at them? Really?”
“Yep.”
“I can hear you smirking at the other end of the telephone. And you know, Sands? Fuck that. I’m going to be in shock. That’s a perfectly normal reaction, isn’t it? I mean, I just cleaned the floor.”
“…I wouldn’t have the faintest idea. You just…do whatever makes you happy.”
“You have no idea how henpecked you sounded just then.”
“Giggling is good. Giggling can be converted to crying, which remains my favourite suggestion.”
“Maybe. See you soon?”
“Sure.”
“Sands…”
“Fine, fine, I’ll be home soon.”
“And now I act profoundly unnatural and call the cops. Being a criminal was so much easier.”
“Shorter life-expectancy.”
“But fun. Although at least this way I don’t have to worry about the body being found…”
“That’s the spirit!”
“Adios, mi amante.”
“Back at you,” and he hangs up.