mischief knows no boundaries // semper

The air is colder than the icy glare Vicky gives me whenever I even think about slipping jerky to Teddy. But, today, I’ve got a hooded sweatshirt and a thick jacket over that, and underneath it all is a lovely flannel long-sleeved shirt. I even have two pairs of socks on (I won’t even mention how long it took me to decide to not wear two pairs of pants) to keep my toes from freezing off. The knife that I keep situated right at my hip is still a bit cold from setting out overnight, and every time the blade comes in contact with my skin it sends chills down my leg and I unintentionally swerve, doing some weird hip jerking to the side as if it’ll make the cold go away. People don’t take very well to me just waving the blade around so I have to keep it hidden.

I would have brought Teddy with me just to haul him around and be with him but Vicky told me he’d catch a cold. She said something about “if you’re wearing two jackets and are still cold then what’ll it feel like for him” so I finally agreed to let him stay home. Someday, though, I really want to just take him around; we don’t even have to do anything, I just want to be with him, show him around Six even though he won’t remember it. (And maybe I also want to get the point across to people that if you mess with this certain toddler then I’ll eviscerate you and devour your entrails in front of your family. “Oh no, that’s a Keeni kid, don’t mess with it!”) And, well… perhaps it all just boils down to the fact that I want to be there for him, unlike how my dad was for me. My understanding is that my dad skipped out of town right after he and my mother had sex, so he probably doesn’t even know I’m alive or that he’s a father. Not that I care much anyway. I learned how to fend for myself and take what I can get; I’ve learned to strike fear into people and – with a bit of arm twisting – get them to bend to my will; and, frankly, I’m not quite the kid a father would be proud of. I’m true to the Keeni name, that much is true, but in societal standards I’m a disappointment.

I’m not going to uphold that label as Teddy grows up. The only time I ever left his side was when I was arrested, so other than that I think I’ve been doing pretty well. Vicky’s been the one to take care of him mostly but I’m always willing to chip in where I can, even changing those diapers that always make me end up saying ”Well shit.” (Really, who would have known a baby could produce that much?) I’ve been barfed and pissed on by him, but at the end of the day I’ll still be one of the first people to rock him gently to sleep and kiss his forehead.

(Don’t tell Vicky but I’m trying to get his first word to be “fuck.”)

And so as always I do need to blow off steam. I can’t go from a homicidal cannibal to gracious, loving dad overnight so I need to have time to work the kinks out. Every now and then I do lash out, usually unintentionally, and so I’ll be sent out to “get my shit together.”

I snap at people that pass by me in the district square, purely for the fun of it. Most of the insults are just over their choice of clothing (at least I am color coordinated) or their hairstyle if they’re not wearing a hat, little things like that. The people that retaliate are the ones that really get my blood flowing and I engage in an argument that just tickles me to death. I get about two people flustered enough that they just stomp away, leaving me cackling in their wake; I’m pretty sure this last person was on the verge of smacking me senseless when I hear a familiar voice calling out my name. I forget about the walking fashion disaster and turn around, seeing none other than Malforce frolicking over like some rabbit. ”What the fuck is this?” I reach over and tug at the point on the back of her hood. ”What are you, some wannabe grim reaper?” I’m teasing, of course, but the cloak and hood do in fact lead me to believe she’s trying too hard to gain something. ”I’m not really doing anything but sure, I guess. What do you wanna do?”

Honestly, I’d be a liar if I said I knew how Malforce was related to me. The Keeni family’s boundaries are so fuzzy and hazy that I really have no idea where our blood stops and someone else’s begins. Even the people like Kitty Calico, who just wander in, how the hell are we supposed to know if they’re related to us or not? Half of us don’t know who one of our parents is so it’d be rude as hell to deny anyone admittance into the house on that basis. Better to just let everyone in, Malforce and Kitty Calico included. There’s plenty of space at the dinner table anyway (so long as everyone cleans their fucking dirty paws before even thinking about touching any food).

It amuses me how quickly she retorts and tries justifying herself and her choice of attire. ”It makes me look intimidating.” I’m not sure whether to humor her about her cloak or not, so I just grin. ”Sure you do.” She’s not quite the embodiment of the term “intimidating” but I’ll hand it to her that she’s got determination. Those light eyes, though – when she glares it’s like daggers disemboweling you. When she gets older I’ll bet my left lung and both kidneys that she’ll be able to strike fear into even grown men. That’ll just be the day, won’t it?

She explains how she wants to mess with people and I don’t shoot the idea down. It’s fun to screw about with puny ones, verbally assaulting and getting them all so riled up they either fight back or stomp away. She mentions that she’s already stolen candy and I put on a very distressed façade. ”And you didn’t get any candy for me? Well fuck you too, Mally.” Joking, again, but this time there’s a hint of truth to it. I may love the taste of pulpy human flesh, but I’ve got a sweet tooth that’s damn near ready to rot out from all the sugar. My arms cross over my chest in a huff, adding emphasis to my mock agitation.

Her suggestion, though, makes my expression fade. Throw rocks at people. It was that that got me locked behind bars. (I did it for good reason! No one can expect me to remain still and quiet when Gypsy fucking betrayed us!) I threw stones every which way, nailing anyone and everyone that stood between me and that big screen that showed every agonizing second of those awful moments. I don’t think people took too kindly to me screeching swears, either. I sigh, though, considering it and look around. There’s not a Peacekeeper in sight but I swear as soon as the first stone flies there’ll be a swarm here. A grumble sounds from my throat but I don’t want to say no to Mally; throwing rocks at people is great fun and if anyone tries to fight us over it I’ll get to swing fists and bring out the knife, so we’ll be fine. Even more drama to top it all off.

”Fine, okay,” I say, lowering my arms. ”But don’t throw any at Peacekeepers, and if the Kepers show up I want you to get the hell outta here, alright? Don’t need another one of us getting put behind bars.”