Marilyn sat down at the table, looking longingly at the pie that Mother had set out to cool. Of course, it wouldn’t be a normal, human pie, such as cherry or pumpkin or apple. Oh no, the thought repulsed her. This was a superb oil and octopus pie. Just the strong, pungent smell made her mouth water. She could almost taste the slick oil and greasy tentacles…
Just then, Papa came in from a long day at the mill. He automatically went into the corner to unzip his skin. For some reason, he had to be in his true form at dinner. This was quite dangerous, really. If someone were to come by and see him as, well, himself. That would be tragic.
Marilyn then heard a crash from the stairs. “Peter,” she sighed in exasperation. Peter was her nine-year-old brother, who always smelled like a worm or some other creature that lived underground. Truthfully, she wouldn’t be surprised if he was a worm. Just then, he came barging into the dining room, obviously drawn by the smell of pie.
“Move!” he shrieked at Marilyn. “That’s where Benny sits!”
“Wouldn’t want to upset Benny.” She muttered under her breath. Benny was her brother’s life-sized doll and was startlingly realistic. If she didn’t know better, she probably would have mistaken Benny for Peter. They had the same dirty hair, ocean colored eyes, peachy cheeks…they were practically twins. Unfortunately, he got all the rights a twin had. Benny got to eat at the table, use the outhouse, and go to the theater. Just then, Mother and Grandma entered the room, carrying a stale loaf of bread and some type of meat.
Light streamed through the pale grass tinted windows as Wilbur, the family’s horse, stuck his nose through the door and snorted at Ginger, the family’s chestnut and ebony colored dog. Ginger barked back at him, threatening to jump. Mother shooed them with the flick of her wrist.
Finally, Papa was done hanging his ivory skin on the birch wood rack and waddled over. She noticed that he left a trail of vomit green colored slime behind him. “He is so sloppy!” she thought to herself as he screeched his chair along the pine floor.
“So, who’s for dinner?” he asked casually.
TO BE CONTINUED…