Status: Slowly and steadily being completed
Cold Water
Chapter 10
Sometimes when Bain visits, Knauss feels lethargic. He’ll leave his den long enough to catch his dinner and then he’ll sit on the deck eating before laying out on his back and dozing in the dry air. Usually Bain will ignore him, sprawled out on the couch down by the TV or up in his chair plucking away at his laptop, but lately he’s gotten braver.
Tonight he’s sitting on the chair, munching on what looks like a plate full of fish intestines covered in a thick red sauce just a few feet away while Knauss is squinting from behind his new glasses. He’s eating them with something.
“Why,” Knauss begins, gaining the human's’ attention, “do humans eat like that?”
Bain looks over at him, utensil in hand.
“What?”
“Why do humans use sticks to help them eat?” Knauss clarifies, he’d been wondering when he’d see humans do it on the television and he’s pretty sure they’re all called knives - or at least that’s what a human with a ridiculously tall white hat was trying to get him to buy for the low price of $19.99 - but he’s not entirely sure.
“Okay, first of all this is a fork, second, how else would you eat spaghetti?” Bain asks, raising his fork and a resulting globule of intestines with it. Knauss stares at it flatly.
“With your hands,” Knauss replies, blase. Bain sputters.
“No dude, that’s nasty. You’ll get marinara everywhere, you use a fork to pick it up and put it in your mouth,” Bain says, Knauss doesn’t get it.
“Just pick it up and eat it, it is easier,” Knauss assures to Bain’s growing agitation.
“No, it’s hot! You can’t pick up hot food,” Bain asserts.
Knauss shrugs, “Wait for it to be cold.”
“What? No!” Bain cries, turning away like he’s done with this conversation, obviously flustered. Knauss doesn’t get why this is such a difficult topic, but he’s not going to get anything useful out of Bain who has curled himself into the chair to finish eating his weird food, so he turns back to the TV.
*
“We have already seen this program,” Knauss says, wet gills flapping a bit as he breathes in. Bain shifts a little in his chair but otherwise doesn't move.
“Well what do you want me to do about it?”
“Change it,” Knauss says simply. Bain has been sitting upstairs with him nearly every evening he visits now. Sometimes he will miss a day, but he's gotten in the habit of bringing food as an apology. Knauss is usually too happy about human snacks to stay too angry about his hungry stomach the night before. Over on the chair Bain huffs.
“Dude you gotta pick one channel, the remote can't reach the tv from over here,” he complains.
“What does that mean?” Knauss asks, tone lofty.
“Uh. The remote,” Bain shows him the remote, Knauss had seen him use it before and he sort of understood it, but he wouldn't pass up a full explanation, “It has this little thing and it connects to the tv to tell it what to do through like, radio waves or something.”
“Show me,” Knauss says more than asks, but Bain is already setting aside his laptop and walking over. He hands over the little plastic rectangle.
“Don't get it wet, electric shit will fry in water. And also it might kill you, but nothing this small I don't think. A toaster can,” he blathers, Knauss does not know what he's talking about so he's more focused on turning the thing over to get a better look. It's relatively small in his big hands and the buttons all have some gibberish written on or around them.
“Show me how.” Bain rolls his eyes at the demand but points anyway.
“You gotta point it at the TV and then you hit this, yeah. And you can go to the menu like this and look at our saved shows,” he prattles on, pointing at the right buttons and occasionally hitting one to prove a point. From where Knauss is sitting closer to the edge it can apparently communicate well enough with the television because a blue menu screen pops up.
“What do they say?” Knauss asks, head tilted.
“Oh shit I forgot you can't read, uh. Just like? Watch this,” Bain takes the remote and hits a couple of buttons until the program changes to some sort of colorful mess, “There, Sesame Street.”
“Sesame Street?” Knauss parrots, confused.
“Yeah it's a show for babies like you,” Bain snickers, leaving the remote and going back towards his seat.
Knauss cocks an eyebrow, looking the human up and down, “I am older than you.”
“What? How do you know that?” Bain hums as he works to settle himself down.
Knauss nods, turning back to the remote Bain had left. Plastic is a toxic material, humans have an unhealthy obsession with it, “You do not smell sexually active.”
From the other side of the room Bain sputters indignantly, “What!? Fuck off dude it’s just been a while and, what the fuck? How can you even fucking smell that? Fuck you.”
Touchy subject, Knauss cocks an eyebrow but doesn't respond, instead turning back to the TV. On screen there are colorful figures wiggling around explaining something called numbers. Interesting, the human words for these concepts aren't actually that difficult to understand but the character with pointed teeth laughing about it is incredibly strange.
Then again he can't be too picky. He's already learned the so called “number of the day”, seven, and how humans count to it and the symbols related. This could be incredibly useful, now he just needs to get past the loud, bright characters speaking in strange accents.
*
“So,” Bain begins casually, shutting the door behind him with a kick, “earlier I was asked why we have so much Sesame Street saved on our tivo and I had to lie and say I was watching it because I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Why the fuck do we have so much Sesame Street on our tivo, Knauss?”
“The creatures are fascinating and they tell me how to spell,” Knauss replies as he ducks out of his cave, stretching luxuriously. Bain just stares at him from below, hands on his hips.
“Seriously, dude? I had to fucking tell my kingpin brother that I'm watching Sesame Street to brush up on my counting skills with a straight face, can't you even pretend to be ashamed?” Knauss has no idea what he's talking about, he's busy hauling himself above deck and twisting his hair because if he wrings it out it dries faster and becomes easier to manage. That and also water drops leave smudges on his glasses and they're nearly impossible to clean off with his fingers.
Bain trudges his way up the stairs and hovers nearby, watching expectantly as Knauss settles himself down. The mer has got more important things on his mind.
“Humans speak in more than one tongue?” Knauss asks, accepting the apple Bain passes down to him. Their hands touch and he doesn't flinch away from the dry, human skin.
To give Bain credit he barely rolls his eyes at the abrupt subject change, “Yeah, why does it matter?”
“Why are humans so confusing?” Knauss laments.
“I don't know what you're talking about. Was that on an episode of Sesame Street?” Bain asks, sitting himself down on the ground rather than the chair. Knauss pauses to give him a look but when the human doesn't offer an answer he goes back to his apple.
“Yes. The muppets also tell me about human customs and how to spell ‘cookies’, which is apparently a food that a blue monster eats,” Knauss wrinkles his nose, “messily.”
“Dude that's the most I've ever heard you talk and it's about goddamn puppets on a kids show. My life is a fucking joke,” Bain groans, leaning back on his arms. Knauss flashes him a look. He knows the feeling well.
They both laps into silence, Knauss finishing up the last few bites and Bain sitting nearby. He can feel the human’s eyes on his skin but it doesn't make his stomach knot in the same way it used to. Still, though.
“What is it?”
“Your tail ain’t all grey,” Bain pauses when Knauss gives him an inquisitive look and immediately backtracks, “I mean, I ain’t been looking at your ugly face, counts for something, don’t it? Ugh, I’m just fuckin’ saying I ain’t never noticed that it had black stripes and shit.”
“Do you like my tail?”
“No, thats fucking weird dude. You’re weird,” Bain scowls, scrambling to his feet and stomping downstairs. Knauss watches him go but he doesn't stop him. He glances down at his tail like it's the first time he's seen it, the light catches on the scales beautifully.
Tonight he’s sitting on the chair, munching on what looks like a plate full of fish intestines covered in a thick red sauce just a few feet away while Knauss is squinting from behind his new glasses. He’s eating them with something.
“Why,” Knauss begins, gaining the human's’ attention, “do humans eat like that?”
Bain looks over at him, utensil in hand.
“What?”
“Why do humans use sticks to help them eat?” Knauss clarifies, he’d been wondering when he’d see humans do it on the television and he’s pretty sure they’re all called knives - or at least that’s what a human with a ridiculously tall white hat was trying to get him to buy for the low price of $19.99 - but he’s not entirely sure.
“Okay, first of all this is a fork, second, how else would you eat spaghetti?” Bain asks, raising his fork and a resulting globule of intestines with it. Knauss stares at it flatly.
“With your hands,” Knauss replies, blase. Bain sputters.
“No dude, that’s nasty. You’ll get marinara everywhere, you use a fork to pick it up and put it in your mouth,” Bain says, Knauss doesn’t get it.
“Just pick it up and eat it, it is easier,” Knauss assures to Bain’s growing agitation.
“No, it’s hot! You can’t pick up hot food,” Bain asserts.
Knauss shrugs, “Wait for it to be cold.”
“What? No!” Bain cries, turning away like he’s done with this conversation, obviously flustered. Knauss doesn’t get why this is such a difficult topic, but he’s not going to get anything useful out of Bain who has curled himself into the chair to finish eating his weird food, so he turns back to the TV.
*
“We have already seen this program,” Knauss says, wet gills flapping a bit as he breathes in. Bain shifts a little in his chair but otherwise doesn't move.
“Well what do you want me to do about it?”
“Change it,” Knauss says simply. Bain has been sitting upstairs with him nearly every evening he visits now. Sometimes he will miss a day, but he's gotten in the habit of bringing food as an apology. Knauss is usually too happy about human snacks to stay too angry about his hungry stomach the night before. Over on the chair Bain huffs.
“Dude you gotta pick one channel, the remote can't reach the tv from over here,” he complains.
“What does that mean?” Knauss asks, tone lofty.
“Uh. The remote,” Bain shows him the remote, Knauss had seen him use it before and he sort of understood it, but he wouldn't pass up a full explanation, “It has this little thing and it connects to the tv to tell it what to do through like, radio waves or something.”
“Show me,” Knauss says more than asks, but Bain is already setting aside his laptop and walking over. He hands over the little plastic rectangle.
“Don't get it wet, electric shit will fry in water. And also it might kill you, but nothing this small I don't think. A toaster can,” he blathers, Knauss does not know what he's talking about so he's more focused on turning the thing over to get a better look. It's relatively small in his big hands and the buttons all have some gibberish written on or around them.
“Show me how.” Bain rolls his eyes at the demand but points anyway.
“You gotta point it at the TV and then you hit this, yeah. And you can go to the menu like this and look at our saved shows,” he prattles on, pointing at the right buttons and occasionally hitting one to prove a point. From where Knauss is sitting closer to the edge it can apparently communicate well enough with the television because a blue menu screen pops up.
“What do they say?” Knauss asks, head tilted.
“Oh shit I forgot you can't read, uh. Just like? Watch this,” Bain takes the remote and hits a couple of buttons until the program changes to some sort of colorful mess, “There, Sesame Street.”
“Sesame Street?” Knauss parrots, confused.
“Yeah it's a show for babies like you,” Bain snickers, leaving the remote and going back towards his seat.
Knauss cocks an eyebrow, looking the human up and down, “I am older than you.”
“What? How do you know that?” Bain hums as he works to settle himself down.
Knauss nods, turning back to the remote Bain had left. Plastic is a toxic material, humans have an unhealthy obsession with it, “You do not smell sexually active.”
From the other side of the room Bain sputters indignantly, “What!? Fuck off dude it’s just been a while and, what the fuck? How can you even fucking smell that? Fuck you.”
Touchy subject, Knauss cocks an eyebrow but doesn't respond, instead turning back to the TV. On screen there are colorful figures wiggling around explaining something called numbers. Interesting, the human words for these concepts aren't actually that difficult to understand but the character with pointed teeth laughing about it is incredibly strange.
Then again he can't be too picky. He's already learned the so called “number of the day”, seven, and how humans count to it and the symbols related. This could be incredibly useful, now he just needs to get past the loud, bright characters speaking in strange accents.
*
“So,” Bain begins casually, shutting the door behind him with a kick, “earlier I was asked why we have so much Sesame Street saved on our tivo and I had to lie and say I was watching it because I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Why the fuck do we have so much Sesame Street on our tivo, Knauss?”
“The creatures are fascinating and they tell me how to spell,” Knauss replies as he ducks out of his cave, stretching luxuriously. Bain just stares at him from below, hands on his hips.
“Seriously, dude? I had to fucking tell my kingpin brother that I'm watching Sesame Street to brush up on my counting skills with a straight face, can't you even pretend to be ashamed?” Knauss has no idea what he's talking about, he's busy hauling himself above deck and twisting his hair because if he wrings it out it dries faster and becomes easier to manage. That and also water drops leave smudges on his glasses and they're nearly impossible to clean off with his fingers.
Bain trudges his way up the stairs and hovers nearby, watching expectantly as Knauss settles himself down. The mer has got more important things on his mind.
“Humans speak in more than one tongue?” Knauss asks, accepting the apple Bain passes down to him. Their hands touch and he doesn't flinch away from the dry, human skin.
To give Bain credit he barely rolls his eyes at the abrupt subject change, “Yeah, why does it matter?”
“Why are humans so confusing?” Knauss laments.
“I don't know what you're talking about. Was that on an episode of Sesame Street?” Bain asks, sitting himself down on the ground rather than the chair. Knauss pauses to give him a look but when the human doesn't offer an answer he goes back to his apple.
“Yes. The muppets also tell me about human customs and how to spell ‘cookies’, which is apparently a food that a blue monster eats,” Knauss wrinkles his nose, “messily.”
“Dude that's the most I've ever heard you talk and it's about goddamn puppets on a kids show. My life is a fucking joke,” Bain groans, leaning back on his arms. Knauss flashes him a look. He knows the feeling well.
They both laps into silence, Knauss finishing up the last few bites and Bain sitting nearby. He can feel the human’s eyes on his skin but it doesn't make his stomach knot in the same way it used to. Still, though.
“What is it?”
“Your tail ain’t all grey,” Bain pauses when Knauss gives him an inquisitive look and immediately backtracks, “I mean, I ain’t been looking at your ugly face, counts for something, don’t it? Ugh, I’m just fuckin’ saying I ain’t never noticed that it had black stripes and shit.”
“Do you like my tail?”
“No, thats fucking weird dude. You’re weird,” Bain scowls, scrambling to his feet and stomping downstairs. Knauss watches him go but he doesn't stop him. He glances down at his tail like it's the first time he's seen it, the light catches on the scales beautifully.