[COMPLETED]
[WATTYS 2022 WINNER]
James Quinn can't die. Actually... that's not true. He's died many times - somewhere in the neighborhood of 250 - only to be reborn as himself to live his life over again.
For millennia, he's had to endure this c...
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November, 10 1998 [20]
"Jackka Billwen uppa hillta patcha whala wha-ta..." Serafina sang as she lay on the homemade changing table.
Martha pulled back the diaper and flinched from the smell. It was more than simply human waste. This was human waste squared – like something that was already dead and rotting had defecated in front of her. You took away alcohol's effect on me, but not my gag reflex... Thanks a lot, Universe.
Serafina continued, unconcerned with the stench, "Jack'll downa brokie crowna Billcay tumbie aff-ta."
"Oh my goodness, what a beautiful singer you are!" Martha said with a voice so buoyant and saccharin, first-life-teenage Martha's eyes would have rolled out of their sockets. But though her delivery was dancing-purple-dinosaur level cheeseball, her words were entirely sincere. Against all reason, everything that came out of this tiny human was beautiful to Martha – from adorable nursery rhymes to noxious demon feces.
She finished cleaning and dressing her daughter, then walked her and the dirty diaper to the bathroom. "What do you think, Sera? Do zombie's poop? They must, considering all the brains they eat." Such were the deep thoughts that Martha – the girl once tasked with saving the human race – was having lately. She held the diaper over the toilet and shook out the loose contents, then dropped it into its designated hamper.
Martha felt something wet on her thumb. She held it up and, sure enough, there was a sizable greenish-brown chunk on her knuckle.
Serafina giggled then said, "Poop."
A normal person would have panicked, screamed, ran in circles, dunked, and re-dunked her hand in a tub of rubbing alcohol. But Martha wasn't a normal person anymore. She was a mother. So she just sighed and calmly washed her hand with soap – beautiful...
"Okay, Stinky Princess. We could use some air. Let's go see what Daddy's up to."
Serafina toddled out of the bathroom and to the front door, singing, "Da-dee! Da-dee!" Martha hovered behind as they walked out of the cabin and into the lush green of their forest home.
To the right, their Jeep sat parked at the end of the single lane, dirt road that eventually wound them back to civilization. Directly in front of them, a forest trail led to a creek a quarter mile in, where they could fish for smallmouth bass. Serafina maneuvered down the porch steps one leg at a time, then toddled around Martha's rainbow beds of indigenous wildflowers to take the trail leading to the left.
"Slow down, sweetie. Careful..." Martha pleaded on impulse as Serafina waddled over uneven ground.
Her chubby legs converged on one another and she stumbled to her hands. Martha gasped, fearing the worst, but Serefina hopped up as if the fall were by design, still singing, "Da-dee! Da-dee!"
