The Suckling

A Tox Upon Thee

Frye could feel a migraine coming on.

Her emotionally taxing tea time long since concluded, she found herself hunched over the chabudai, face buried in the palm of her hands as she struggled to process everything that had transpired. Between the blood chilling surprise encounter with Shiver, her sudden announcement of quitting both Deep Cut and the NSS and newfound ambition as an amateur novelist, it was enough to make Frye's head spin.

It wounded her deeply to admit it, but in the hour since she stepped into the home Frye was forced to come to terms with the fact that Shiver, her witty, strong-willed and reliable friend, had gone completely insane. Over the hills and into new lands of pizza-on-pineapples crazy.

The shame of performing this taboo suckling, upon her dearest rival no less, had shaken Shiver to the core by virtue of her Octarian nature. Her fragile psyche hung by a thread that could snap at any moment, it was only through a severe case of self delusion that she was able to function in her delicate state of mind. Though, it would appear her dubious mental stability came at the cost of a weakened grip on reality and unnerving disposition.

Groaning, Frye lifted her head up from her hands and glanced worrily over at Shiver, who was busying herself cleaning the dishes in the kitchen. Beside her sat Big Man, who found himself quite engrossed reading through one of Shiver's many journals as he brought up a fin to adjust his prescription strength reading glasses. Frowning, she gave Big Man a sharp nudge at his side, snapping him out of his focus.

"Big Man!" She whispered loudly. "Come on, put that thing down and lend me a fin here. We're here to help Shiver, remember?"

"Ay, ay, (I haven't forgotten,)" replied Big Man, raising up the journal. "Ay, ay. (That being said, Quiver: The Clown Girl is not that bad of a read.) Ay, ay, ay. (The plot's there, but the characters are all over the place. Pacing is a little iffy too.) Ay, ay, ay. (So far it's kept my interest, but Shiver really has lost her marbles if she thinks this is going to be a bestseller.)"

"...That's all well and good, but this helps us, how, exactly?" Frye raised a brow.

"Ay, ay, ay. (Well, I generally believe strong constructive criticism is a cornerstone of the writing process.) Ay, ay, ay, (Also, I thought we could gain some insight into Shiver's predicament by interpreting some of her writing,)" said Big Man as he licked his fin and turned a page. "Ay, ay, ay. (You'd be surprised at what people unwittingly reveal about themselves when they put pen to paper.)"

Frye blinked. It certainly wouldn't have been something she'd be able to come up with on her own, but Big Man's idea was worth checking out, even if it did sound like an excuse for him to keep reading that novel.

"Did you learn anything?" she asked.

"Ay, ay? (Apart from Shiver's gratuitous use of purple prose and tired cliches?)" Big Man quipped. "Ay, ay, ay. (Here, let me read a few passages from the book and let you decide for yourself) Ay. (Ahem.)"

"It had only been a few weeks since Cirque De Squid had taken Quiver in, this wicked wretch of an Octoling who by all rights shouldn't even have been given a second chance after what she had done. She was guilty of committing a crime so heinous, so unspeakably horrendous that even uttering it in hushed, fearful whispers would incite spiraling madness in many and twisting lament in more. It was terrible, horrible, abominable, dreadful, atrocious, abhorrent, unfathomably-"

"Sheesh, can I get some more adjectives here?" Frye snorted.

"Ay, ay, ay, (Yeah, this goes on for a while. Purple prose and whatnot. It's like she's being paid by the word,)" quipped Big Man.