BlueGun
12-13-07, 10:09 PM
Name: Chiho (pronounced like Cheeeeee then Oh)
Age: Young adult
Race: fuzzybunny
Appearance:
..Human form:
..Age- Young Adult
..Gender- Female
..Hair Color- Pink
..Eye Color- solid black
..Height/weight-Average
..Fuzzybunny form:
..Hair color- Pink
..Eye color- solid black
..Height/weight- Thumb size. Feather weight.
..In her most common, bunny form, Chiho takes on an appearance actually very different from a rabbit. Chiho has a small, blob like body covered in ridiculously soft light pink fur. She has small nubs for arms and legs that sometimes reabsorb back into its body when it wants to roll around. Chiho has a cotton ball of a tail, and almost comically large, floppy ears. She has large black eyes, and a mouth that is almost invisible until she opens it. Chiho has no teeth in this form, which explains her sick addiction to sucking on sweet things.
As a human, Chiho retains only a few of her fuzzybunny qualities. Her hair is pink, although instead of covering her body it appears only on her head. Her hair comes down to her hips, and is still incredibly soft. Chiho's skin is rather pale, and contrasts greatly with her completely black eyes. Her only outer wear is a thin, pale green dress. She gets cold easily, but it never occurred to her that she should maybe buy something else, or shoes for that matter. There is a thin bracelet of knotted black thread around her left wrist. It was the first bracelet she ever made and she became rather attached to it.
*Personality:
..Human- Chiho is slightly shy, but over all a very kind and friendly person. She likes to make things for her friends and give hugs. Because she spends so much time in a non-human form with limited intellect, she is rather naiive, and easy to take advantage of. She is very rarely completely aware of her surroundings, and could easily walk into traps. Chiho is a person who is very easily hurt. She deals with this by turning to her other form and sulking. When feeling particularly nasty, she happens to be a good prankster. Sometimes she does pranks to show that she cares. Maybe she just likes doing pranks and is just looking for an excuse. Who knows? Chiho also has essentially no sense of direction and understanding of money or trade. This leads to all sorts of fun in the markets of strange towns.
..Fuzzybunny- Chiho does not have a very complex thought process. Most of her decisions are based off of whims and needs. She'll work for whoever will give her candy or pay attention to her. Chiho is, at this point, an attention whore. She likes to be petted and make friends. She can understand the basic root of what someone is trying to tell her, and likes to do favors for people she likes.
Equipment:
A worn leather pack
Tools for basic crafts
A pink wool blanket
Skills:
Not a skill, but Chiho is picked up by magic detectors.
Transformation- Chiho is at most times at fuzzybunny form. Usually she has to be coerced or tricked into switching to being a human, because she almost always forgets its within her power to change back and forth. As a human, emotions like fear or surprise make her change instantly back to fuzzybunny form again. She can also change in that direction as she pleases.
..Human skills:
Musicianship
Dancing
Crafts (such as jewelry, pictures, and simple instruments)
Speed (above average)
..Bunny skillz:
Powerders -> Chiho can emit different kinds of powders. One is tickle powder, which happens to make the effected area feel quite ticklish. The second is just a sweet smelling sent, which smells different to each person but always pleasing. The third is itchy powder. Self explanatory.
Burps -> Chiho can burp small objects such as small bits of metal, and elements like fire, ice, and water. At this point the bits and pieces would have to be very thin or very small. Fire is limited to sparks, but Chiho could become a thread dispenser.
Hypnotism -> [also available in human form] Extended eye contact could possibly lead to hypnotism. It helps if the person is trusting opposed to afraid.
*Familiars: A blue fuzzy paperclip named Gomez. Gomez has no properties at the moment. But he is rather entertaining. Gomez will dance on command. Staples wish they had this kind of pizzazz.
History:
Chiho's history is long and rather boring. Or at least, she thinks so.
It all started out in a laboratory, like many of these things do. A woman became ridiculously intent on creating a master piece…the perfect pet. Now let me tell you a few things about …, let's call her Martha. And when I say it’s a friend, trust me, I'm not Martha. But I'll tell Martha your advice, I'm just asking advice for her because I'm such a good friend. I swear to David bowie I'm not Martha. She's just a friend. Really. Believe me, its all very important to understand this if you want to know why things happened, not just how.
Martha was an upper-class, middle aged, suburban, white woman: all blonde hair, nice sweaters, and nice earrings. If she thought she was fooling anybody with the homely garb she was kidding herself. Who hadn't seen her in a nice suit?
Now, Martha had a very troubled past which contributed to the adult she was at the time. Martha was raised by a woman named Manda. Manda was an admirable example of the female sex, if you liked the complete-mess-of-an-adult kind. Manda relied on her husband for absolutely everything. She couldn't drive farther than five miles from her house, couldn't read the directions for cooking brownies off of the back of the package of instant mix, and sure as hell couldn't monitor her own drinking rate at social occasions. Manda always picked her children up late from school. She drove down the road and Nascar speed, and if she had started half an hour earlier she would have definitely beaten all the other mothers for the best parking spot. Her hair was askew, a grey sweat shirt thrown on over grandma jeans, and spotless white sneakers to boot. She would roll down the window and blow kisses to get her kids' attention. Martha kept her head low as she crawled into the back seat with her five other siblings. Any kids more unfortunate than herself, and still left to wait for an arriving parent, laughed hysterically. Manda, despite her faults in terms of regulation, organization, and motivation, was a perfect mother. She loved her darlings very much and smothered them with kisses and hugs at all possible moments. However, she was so very busy trying to get her own life under control that she did not have the time to drive her children to one soccer game. The lack of this made them suffer greatly, and as a result the could not develop like their cookie-cutter neighbors behind those blindingly white picket fences.
Martha vowed never to end up like her own mother.
And yes, I swear, I am going somewhere with this.
Martha worked her hardest to become super-mom. Martha spent each morning primping herself to absolute perfection. She absolutely adored pulling on that perfect sweater for her perfectly pressed jeans. And one would swear she could get off each time she put on a pair of earrings. Manda had never worn earrings. Martha would sit at her bureau and apply enough makeup to create a mask for her face. When she was finally done, she'd let her husband take a look. He would smile, wrap his arms around her, and give her a squeeze. He knew the rules, no kissing. God forbid he ruin the concealer. When he was done, Martha always took the same five steps back to her bureau and spritzed two puffs of perfume on each wrist and one at the base of her neck. It was enough to cover up the smell of her husband's cologne and make sure all of her coworkers knew the exact moment she entered the room. Martha walked down stairs and quickly made vegetarian pancakes for her two children (one boy and one girl of course), and told them sternly that she didn't care if they smelled like the dog's most recent acquisition. Then, when they were done eating, she would watch them brush their teeth until those pearlies shone like white marble.
After the morning ritual, Martha drove her children to school. She picked them up exactly on time, and swerved smoothly into the spot right in front of the school entrance while waving and smiling at the mothers she had just cut off. It was such wonderful weather, wasn't it? Oh and have you seen the Jones' garden? Such a shame. Scandalous! Any how, when her fifth and fourth graders were safely buckled into their babyseats, she would drive them to soccer games. At these games she cheered and screamed until the coach threatened to kick her off the field. And boy did she love to watch her kids play! She even signed them up for two teams. The girl couldn't play against herself? What kind of an excuse was that? If the two teams were playing then hell, more time for the kid, and less bench!
During the day when her children were at home, Marha ran a little show. Her show was her baby and in it she bestowed all of her wisdom on the other house wives of America. Her favorite thing of all to do was share her little crafts with everybody! Who wouldn't want to know how to create the likeliness of Oprah Winfrey in marshmallows?
Eventually, call it midlife crisis, post-pregnancy depression, whatever you will, Martha fell into a slump. For the first time in her life she realized that nobody gave a damn about her little Christmas themed sock puppets, that she hadn't slept with her husband since nine months before the birth of their first child (the second had been an accident), that both of her children hated soccer, and even the dog wouldn't eat her pancakes. It made her very depressed. She had spent her whole life living in opposition of her mother, and now what? Finally Martha began to feel the weight of her age. What the **** have I done with my life? Where have all the years gone? Oh god, when was the last time I'd eaten anything that wasn't approved of by the latest color coded diet. Martha spent the next couple days in a pair of her husband's sweats, dosing herself in icecream and chocolates. All this desperation drove her to do something illegal.
Sitting in her jail cell, trying to find something crafty to do with the industrial orange onesy she had been landed in, Martha had a revelation. She wanted to do something meaningful. Her whole life had been based off of trifles and novelties. Goodness, she wanted to do something that people would remember. Something important to the course of history and pop culture and Dr. Phil. But yet, she had to remain true to herself. How could she do this? How could she bring a revolution to the homes of America? What does every family love… No, she couldn't make a Husband Version 2.0…although it was a nice thought. No, she needed to go deeper. What was at the core of love, never got into arguments, and was present in most American families? Martha shuffled uncomfortably on the two foot wide bed she was sharing with her cell mate, and tried to adjust her GPS chipped collar. It was chafing something awful. The revelation came then. The moment of truth.
Martha went to visit a man named Dr. Frankenswine as soon as she was off of probation. She put on her nicest white suit, and her most pearly pair of earrings. Oh how she loved those earrings. They were almost as pearly as her children's teeth. Any ways, moving on. In fact, in order to get deeper into the mind of Martha Steward, I snuck into her bedroom and stole her diary. Here's an excerpt. I'm posting the rest online later. Lol. Pwned.
Dear Diary,
Today is the morning I get off probation. I have already scheduled a meeting with Dr. Frankenswine. I put on my nicest white suit and my most pearly pair of earrings. Oh how I love those earrings. They're almost as pearly as my children's teeth. Anyways, moving on.
I drove up to the outside of the laboratory that morning. It was a pretty sketchy place. I mean, I'd seen all kinds of things. This though, I could tell there was some bad stuff goin' on. Know what I'm sayin? So there I was sitting in the hijacked car, willing myself to get out and take the final steps. I'm feelin a little nervous here, so I break out a cigarette and light it. My fingers were shaking so bad. I was almost ready to call mah homies for back up. The hood's got my back fo shizzle. So anyways, this geek comes up to my car, all proud like, like he owns the joint or somethin. So I get out of mah car and give him the whole what-what look. You know, the one that says "Hey, yo! I'm 'bout to open a whole can of whoop on that ass of your's. Get what I'm sayin, dawg? Yo grandmama is gonna be feeling my shoeprint on your behind. Yeah, that hard." Then he sticks out his hand like…some kinda presidential candidate or sumthin, and says "Hello, you must be Martha. I'm Dr. Frankenswine. I believe we talked on the phone about that project?" I swagger toward the door of the laboratory and yell back over my shoulder, "You better keep quiet 'bout this, fool!". Yeah I know I'm bootylicious. I don’t blame him for looking.
So, that's how things went down. And that deal, apparently, wasn’t the only thing that went down if you catch my drift. Something else did to, and Frankenswine's marriage along with it, but frankly, that ain't none of mah biznezz homie. Get it? Frankly? Okay moving on.
Dr. Frankenswine was the kind of man who essentially lived in his laboratory. He didn't have much to come home to after all. All there was in his grungy flat was some old video games, some woman who called herself his wife, and an eviction notice. He liked to bury himself in his work, you know, thinking it would solve all his problems. The Dr was just waiting to make the ideal discovery. He was a genius. MIT had tried to recruit him. And after that he had just laughed in Harvard's face. But that's besides the point. Frankenswine was a complete braniac, but he lacked inspiration. Apparently there was so much science in him that his creativity was totally knocked out. He wasn't one of those creative-scientists. He was pure equations and memorization. He needed a focus for his energy. Martha had handed the right project to the right man. He needed inspiration, she needed a genius. They were a match made in Las Vegas.
Dr. Frankenswine had specific instructions on how Martha wanted the "perfect pet" to be built. It had to be soft, for ultimate pettablilty. It had to be entertaining, so the rambunctious children would never get bored. It had to be cute so the little girlies would coo. But most importantly of all, it had to have the appearance of human like understanding. So all the sensitive children and stressed out adults could vent and talk to their hearts content while feeling as if somebody actually cared. At first, Dr, Frankenswine tried mixing different kinds of DNA, but all he ended up with was a genetic milkshake. He came to the conclusion that orthodox methods of genetic engineering were not going to work.
Dr. Frankenswine decided to attempt something so amazing that not even Club Nobel would be so ambitious. He decided to try and play God, creating a life form from scratch. However, as this creation was going to be unlike any organism around, he was going to have to try something different. Instead of carbon, the Dr. was going to attempt a silicon based life form. Scientists had long predicted that because of the easily bonding nature of silicon, if aliens exist some of them are probably silicon based. However, no proof of such a life form existed. Dr. Frankenswine was doing the tango in the uncharted section of the cruise ship's deck.
The next couple of years were hard work. Frankenswine almost went bald from running his hands through his Einstein-fro so many times. The funding for the project almost went kaput. Martha had planned to only spent her inheritance from Uncle Earl. She refused to move on to Aunt Suzy. The last couple of times Frankenswine had failed miserably. Oh he knew he was getting close, but no where close enough. He had called Martha over to the lab for the birth of the last several tries. One had appeared to be some sort of jello with a face. Although it was adorable, Martha hadn't wanted to promote jello because it was a sugary substance. It died after the first three hours anyway. Who would know what to feed a thing like that? Another was a set of fuzzy cubes, each with two inch antennae and large eyeballs on top. Martha hadn't liked those because they had all managed to loose their eyes on pointy objects within 6 minutes of their violent bouncing. The most important failure with his "children" was the human factor. Everything he had created was a complete idiot.
Frankenswine knew he was in his last days. He had been sick for the last week but had not stopped working once. His fever was dangerously high and he had become slightly delirious. Perhaps delirious was what he needed, because delirium certainly gave him the right inspiration to create what he needed. With quivering hands, he held his breath for a moment, and then decided to see if it had finally worked.
He had built a huge machine, full of tubes just flowing with brightly colored fluids. He wasn’t sure what most of them did, having created the thing in a slightly-less-than-sane state. Either way, he walked over to the control box at the front of the thing, and flipped it open. Underneath the cover was a huge red button.
Now we, sane, and well versed in cartoons, know that you should never touch the big red button. When has that ever worked out well for anybody? Honestly, right now, sit still and think. Has the red button ever been a positive experience? Has the red button ever had that friendly poke-me look opposed to that vicious touch-me-you-know-you-want-to vibe? No, I didn't think so. Red buttons are evil. Pure evil. If I ever become a scientist I'll never have a red button, oh no. I'm going with a much more appealing color. Blue perhaps. Or maybe green. Either way it sure won't be red because red would instantly turn the button into pure bad news.
Frankswine, pushed the red button with his thumb. Almost like he was giving a thumbs up to his hard work. Or perhaps he was just one of those people who pushed vertically oriented buttons with a thumb. I like to use my forefinger if I'm in polite company, personally. It looks so much more graceful. However, when opposed by a zebra crossing button, I hammer away on that sucker like theirs no tomorrow. I use anything! My fist, the palm of my hand, my bag, someone else's hand. It never seems to make the pedestrian light come any faster. That's the system mocking you right there.
Anyway.
Frankenswine looked up at his magnificent machine as it rumbled like a lion in all its look-at-me-i-actually-work glory! The creation chamber filled with white steam and the door slid open. The Dr. bit his nails as he heard something step forward, knowing full well that it was his last chance. Out stepped a female youth with long pink hair and black eyes. Dr. Frankenswine dropped dead on the spot, unable to stem the heart break of having completely failed. Instantly, at the horror of seeing a dead body, Chiho turned into her fuzzybunny form and scampered away. If only Frankenswine could have held it together for a couple more moments. He would have seen that he was so close. In his delirium he had just amplified the human qualities of the creation. He had been this close, a strand of hair's breadth away. But no, he had dropped dead and it was too late. People have the habit of dropping dead at the most inopportune moments.
Martha walked in several moments later, having decided to come and fire the man in person opposed to with a text message with Verizon because of their awesome texting plan. When she saw the body on the floor, she instantly ran out screaming. She couldn't be blamed with murder! She had just gotten off of probation! Prison can do bad things to a person's psyche. She used all of that craft-woman skill to remove the tank of gasoline from his car and slosh it all over the inside of the lab. Using her cigarette lighter, she dropped it and ran. It would destroy all of the evidence. Just what she needed. The amazing thing is, she actually believed that it was a good idea, and inconspicuous too. Because its completely normal for buildings to just burst into flames. She danced over to her car, laughing hysterically, and screaming things along the lines of "hahaha! Take THAT Bush! Ha! You and your gas prices!" and then later on, things along the lines of "Drown you polar bears! In your face you green peace enviornmentalists!".
It was a sad day over all. The world lost a brilliant scientist to the heartbreak of repeated failure. Martha, the wonder mom, finally cracked. But what of Chiho?
In the wild spread of the flames Chiho jumped into a small box. It happened to be a portal to Althanas. Frankenswine had been working on a side project that he had never gotten around to testing because he was so preoccupied with Chiho's creation. Well, it was the only one of his creations to have ever worked perfectly, and he never found out. His body, and the box, burned away in Martha's back yard bonfire while house wives all around town roasted their marshmallow Oprahs over the open flames.
That, is the history of Chiho.
Age: Young adult
Race: fuzzybunny
Appearance:
..Human form:
..Age- Young Adult
..Gender- Female
..Hair Color- Pink
..Eye Color- solid black
..Height/weight-Average
..Fuzzybunny form:
..Hair color- Pink
..Eye color- solid black
..Height/weight- Thumb size. Feather weight.
..In her most common, bunny form, Chiho takes on an appearance actually very different from a rabbit. Chiho has a small, blob like body covered in ridiculously soft light pink fur. She has small nubs for arms and legs that sometimes reabsorb back into its body when it wants to roll around. Chiho has a cotton ball of a tail, and almost comically large, floppy ears. She has large black eyes, and a mouth that is almost invisible until she opens it. Chiho has no teeth in this form, which explains her sick addiction to sucking on sweet things.
As a human, Chiho retains only a few of her fuzzybunny qualities. Her hair is pink, although instead of covering her body it appears only on her head. Her hair comes down to her hips, and is still incredibly soft. Chiho's skin is rather pale, and contrasts greatly with her completely black eyes. Her only outer wear is a thin, pale green dress. She gets cold easily, but it never occurred to her that she should maybe buy something else, or shoes for that matter. There is a thin bracelet of knotted black thread around her left wrist. It was the first bracelet she ever made and she became rather attached to it.
*Personality:
..Human- Chiho is slightly shy, but over all a very kind and friendly person. She likes to make things for her friends and give hugs. Because she spends so much time in a non-human form with limited intellect, she is rather naiive, and easy to take advantage of. She is very rarely completely aware of her surroundings, and could easily walk into traps. Chiho is a person who is very easily hurt. She deals with this by turning to her other form and sulking. When feeling particularly nasty, she happens to be a good prankster. Sometimes she does pranks to show that she cares. Maybe she just likes doing pranks and is just looking for an excuse. Who knows? Chiho also has essentially no sense of direction and understanding of money or trade. This leads to all sorts of fun in the markets of strange towns.
..Fuzzybunny- Chiho does not have a very complex thought process. Most of her decisions are based off of whims and needs. She'll work for whoever will give her candy or pay attention to her. Chiho is, at this point, an attention whore. She likes to be petted and make friends. She can understand the basic root of what someone is trying to tell her, and likes to do favors for people she likes.
Equipment:
A worn leather pack
Tools for basic crafts
A pink wool blanket
Skills:
Not a skill, but Chiho is picked up by magic detectors.
Transformation- Chiho is at most times at fuzzybunny form. Usually she has to be coerced or tricked into switching to being a human, because she almost always forgets its within her power to change back and forth. As a human, emotions like fear or surprise make her change instantly back to fuzzybunny form again. She can also change in that direction as she pleases.
..Human skills:
Musicianship
Dancing
Crafts (such as jewelry, pictures, and simple instruments)
Speed (above average)
..Bunny skillz:
Powerders -> Chiho can emit different kinds of powders. One is tickle powder, which happens to make the effected area feel quite ticklish. The second is just a sweet smelling sent, which smells different to each person but always pleasing. The third is itchy powder. Self explanatory.
Burps -> Chiho can burp small objects such as small bits of metal, and elements like fire, ice, and water. At this point the bits and pieces would have to be very thin or very small. Fire is limited to sparks, but Chiho could become a thread dispenser.
Hypnotism -> [also available in human form] Extended eye contact could possibly lead to hypnotism. It helps if the person is trusting opposed to afraid.
*Familiars: A blue fuzzy paperclip named Gomez. Gomez has no properties at the moment. But he is rather entertaining. Gomez will dance on command. Staples wish they had this kind of pizzazz.
History:
Chiho's history is long and rather boring. Or at least, she thinks so.
It all started out in a laboratory, like many of these things do. A woman became ridiculously intent on creating a master piece…the perfect pet. Now let me tell you a few things about …, let's call her Martha. And when I say it’s a friend, trust me, I'm not Martha. But I'll tell Martha your advice, I'm just asking advice for her because I'm such a good friend. I swear to David bowie I'm not Martha. She's just a friend. Really. Believe me, its all very important to understand this if you want to know why things happened, not just how.
Martha was an upper-class, middle aged, suburban, white woman: all blonde hair, nice sweaters, and nice earrings. If she thought she was fooling anybody with the homely garb she was kidding herself. Who hadn't seen her in a nice suit?
Now, Martha had a very troubled past which contributed to the adult she was at the time. Martha was raised by a woman named Manda. Manda was an admirable example of the female sex, if you liked the complete-mess-of-an-adult kind. Manda relied on her husband for absolutely everything. She couldn't drive farther than five miles from her house, couldn't read the directions for cooking brownies off of the back of the package of instant mix, and sure as hell couldn't monitor her own drinking rate at social occasions. Manda always picked her children up late from school. She drove down the road and Nascar speed, and if she had started half an hour earlier she would have definitely beaten all the other mothers for the best parking spot. Her hair was askew, a grey sweat shirt thrown on over grandma jeans, and spotless white sneakers to boot. She would roll down the window and blow kisses to get her kids' attention. Martha kept her head low as she crawled into the back seat with her five other siblings. Any kids more unfortunate than herself, and still left to wait for an arriving parent, laughed hysterically. Manda, despite her faults in terms of regulation, organization, and motivation, was a perfect mother. She loved her darlings very much and smothered them with kisses and hugs at all possible moments. However, she was so very busy trying to get her own life under control that she did not have the time to drive her children to one soccer game. The lack of this made them suffer greatly, and as a result the could not develop like their cookie-cutter neighbors behind those blindingly white picket fences.
Martha vowed never to end up like her own mother.
And yes, I swear, I am going somewhere with this.
Martha worked her hardest to become super-mom. Martha spent each morning primping herself to absolute perfection. She absolutely adored pulling on that perfect sweater for her perfectly pressed jeans. And one would swear she could get off each time she put on a pair of earrings. Manda had never worn earrings. Martha would sit at her bureau and apply enough makeup to create a mask for her face. When she was finally done, she'd let her husband take a look. He would smile, wrap his arms around her, and give her a squeeze. He knew the rules, no kissing. God forbid he ruin the concealer. When he was done, Martha always took the same five steps back to her bureau and spritzed two puffs of perfume on each wrist and one at the base of her neck. It was enough to cover up the smell of her husband's cologne and make sure all of her coworkers knew the exact moment she entered the room. Martha walked down stairs and quickly made vegetarian pancakes for her two children (one boy and one girl of course), and told them sternly that she didn't care if they smelled like the dog's most recent acquisition. Then, when they were done eating, she would watch them brush their teeth until those pearlies shone like white marble.
After the morning ritual, Martha drove her children to school. She picked them up exactly on time, and swerved smoothly into the spot right in front of the school entrance while waving and smiling at the mothers she had just cut off. It was such wonderful weather, wasn't it? Oh and have you seen the Jones' garden? Such a shame. Scandalous! Any how, when her fifth and fourth graders were safely buckled into their babyseats, she would drive them to soccer games. At these games she cheered and screamed until the coach threatened to kick her off the field. And boy did she love to watch her kids play! She even signed them up for two teams. The girl couldn't play against herself? What kind of an excuse was that? If the two teams were playing then hell, more time for the kid, and less bench!
During the day when her children were at home, Marha ran a little show. Her show was her baby and in it she bestowed all of her wisdom on the other house wives of America. Her favorite thing of all to do was share her little crafts with everybody! Who wouldn't want to know how to create the likeliness of Oprah Winfrey in marshmallows?
Eventually, call it midlife crisis, post-pregnancy depression, whatever you will, Martha fell into a slump. For the first time in her life she realized that nobody gave a damn about her little Christmas themed sock puppets, that she hadn't slept with her husband since nine months before the birth of their first child (the second had been an accident), that both of her children hated soccer, and even the dog wouldn't eat her pancakes. It made her very depressed. She had spent her whole life living in opposition of her mother, and now what? Finally Martha began to feel the weight of her age. What the **** have I done with my life? Where have all the years gone? Oh god, when was the last time I'd eaten anything that wasn't approved of by the latest color coded diet. Martha spent the next couple days in a pair of her husband's sweats, dosing herself in icecream and chocolates. All this desperation drove her to do something illegal.
Sitting in her jail cell, trying to find something crafty to do with the industrial orange onesy she had been landed in, Martha had a revelation. She wanted to do something meaningful. Her whole life had been based off of trifles and novelties. Goodness, she wanted to do something that people would remember. Something important to the course of history and pop culture and Dr. Phil. But yet, she had to remain true to herself. How could she do this? How could she bring a revolution to the homes of America? What does every family love… No, she couldn't make a Husband Version 2.0…although it was a nice thought. No, she needed to go deeper. What was at the core of love, never got into arguments, and was present in most American families? Martha shuffled uncomfortably on the two foot wide bed she was sharing with her cell mate, and tried to adjust her GPS chipped collar. It was chafing something awful. The revelation came then. The moment of truth.
Martha went to visit a man named Dr. Frankenswine as soon as she was off of probation. She put on her nicest white suit, and her most pearly pair of earrings. Oh how she loved those earrings. They were almost as pearly as her children's teeth. Any ways, moving on. In fact, in order to get deeper into the mind of Martha Steward, I snuck into her bedroom and stole her diary. Here's an excerpt. I'm posting the rest online later. Lol. Pwned.
Dear Diary,
Today is the morning I get off probation. I have already scheduled a meeting with Dr. Frankenswine. I put on my nicest white suit and my most pearly pair of earrings. Oh how I love those earrings. They're almost as pearly as my children's teeth. Anyways, moving on.
I drove up to the outside of the laboratory that morning. It was a pretty sketchy place. I mean, I'd seen all kinds of things. This though, I could tell there was some bad stuff goin' on. Know what I'm sayin? So there I was sitting in the hijacked car, willing myself to get out and take the final steps. I'm feelin a little nervous here, so I break out a cigarette and light it. My fingers were shaking so bad. I was almost ready to call mah homies for back up. The hood's got my back fo shizzle. So anyways, this geek comes up to my car, all proud like, like he owns the joint or somethin. So I get out of mah car and give him the whole what-what look. You know, the one that says "Hey, yo! I'm 'bout to open a whole can of whoop on that ass of your's. Get what I'm sayin, dawg? Yo grandmama is gonna be feeling my shoeprint on your behind. Yeah, that hard." Then he sticks out his hand like…some kinda presidential candidate or sumthin, and says "Hello, you must be Martha. I'm Dr. Frankenswine. I believe we talked on the phone about that project?" I swagger toward the door of the laboratory and yell back over my shoulder, "You better keep quiet 'bout this, fool!". Yeah I know I'm bootylicious. I don’t blame him for looking.
So, that's how things went down. And that deal, apparently, wasn’t the only thing that went down if you catch my drift. Something else did to, and Frankenswine's marriage along with it, but frankly, that ain't none of mah biznezz homie. Get it? Frankly? Okay moving on.
Dr. Frankenswine was the kind of man who essentially lived in his laboratory. He didn't have much to come home to after all. All there was in his grungy flat was some old video games, some woman who called herself his wife, and an eviction notice. He liked to bury himself in his work, you know, thinking it would solve all his problems. The Dr was just waiting to make the ideal discovery. He was a genius. MIT had tried to recruit him. And after that he had just laughed in Harvard's face. But that's besides the point. Frankenswine was a complete braniac, but he lacked inspiration. Apparently there was so much science in him that his creativity was totally knocked out. He wasn't one of those creative-scientists. He was pure equations and memorization. He needed a focus for his energy. Martha had handed the right project to the right man. He needed inspiration, she needed a genius. They were a match made in Las Vegas.
Dr. Frankenswine had specific instructions on how Martha wanted the "perfect pet" to be built. It had to be soft, for ultimate pettablilty. It had to be entertaining, so the rambunctious children would never get bored. It had to be cute so the little girlies would coo. But most importantly of all, it had to have the appearance of human like understanding. So all the sensitive children and stressed out adults could vent and talk to their hearts content while feeling as if somebody actually cared. At first, Dr, Frankenswine tried mixing different kinds of DNA, but all he ended up with was a genetic milkshake. He came to the conclusion that orthodox methods of genetic engineering were not going to work.
Dr. Frankenswine decided to attempt something so amazing that not even Club Nobel would be so ambitious. He decided to try and play God, creating a life form from scratch. However, as this creation was going to be unlike any organism around, he was going to have to try something different. Instead of carbon, the Dr. was going to attempt a silicon based life form. Scientists had long predicted that because of the easily bonding nature of silicon, if aliens exist some of them are probably silicon based. However, no proof of such a life form existed. Dr. Frankenswine was doing the tango in the uncharted section of the cruise ship's deck.
The next couple of years were hard work. Frankenswine almost went bald from running his hands through his Einstein-fro so many times. The funding for the project almost went kaput. Martha had planned to only spent her inheritance from Uncle Earl. She refused to move on to Aunt Suzy. The last couple of times Frankenswine had failed miserably. Oh he knew he was getting close, but no where close enough. He had called Martha over to the lab for the birth of the last several tries. One had appeared to be some sort of jello with a face. Although it was adorable, Martha hadn't wanted to promote jello because it was a sugary substance. It died after the first three hours anyway. Who would know what to feed a thing like that? Another was a set of fuzzy cubes, each with two inch antennae and large eyeballs on top. Martha hadn't liked those because they had all managed to loose their eyes on pointy objects within 6 minutes of their violent bouncing. The most important failure with his "children" was the human factor. Everything he had created was a complete idiot.
Frankenswine knew he was in his last days. He had been sick for the last week but had not stopped working once. His fever was dangerously high and he had become slightly delirious. Perhaps delirious was what he needed, because delirium certainly gave him the right inspiration to create what he needed. With quivering hands, he held his breath for a moment, and then decided to see if it had finally worked.
He had built a huge machine, full of tubes just flowing with brightly colored fluids. He wasn’t sure what most of them did, having created the thing in a slightly-less-than-sane state. Either way, he walked over to the control box at the front of the thing, and flipped it open. Underneath the cover was a huge red button.
Now we, sane, and well versed in cartoons, know that you should never touch the big red button. When has that ever worked out well for anybody? Honestly, right now, sit still and think. Has the red button ever been a positive experience? Has the red button ever had that friendly poke-me look opposed to that vicious touch-me-you-know-you-want-to vibe? No, I didn't think so. Red buttons are evil. Pure evil. If I ever become a scientist I'll never have a red button, oh no. I'm going with a much more appealing color. Blue perhaps. Or maybe green. Either way it sure won't be red because red would instantly turn the button into pure bad news.
Frankswine, pushed the red button with his thumb. Almost like he was giving a thumbs up to his hard work. Or perhaps he was just one of those people who pushed vertically oriented buttons with a thumb. I like to use my forefinger if I'm in polite company, personally. It looks so much more graceful. However, when opposed by a zebra crossing button, I hammer away on that sucker like theirs no tomorrow. I use anything! My fist, the palm of my hand, my bag, someone else's hand. It never seems to make the pedestrian light come any faster. That's the system mocking you right there.
Anyway.
Frankenswine looked up at his magnificent machine as it rumbled like a lion in all its look-at-me-i-actually-work glory! The creation chamber filled with white steam and the door slid open. The Dr. bit his nails as he heard something step forward, knowing full well that it was his last chance. Out stepped a female youth with long pink hair and black eyes. Dr. Frankenswine dropped dead on the spot, unable to stem the heart break of having completely failed. Instantly, at the horror of seeing a dead body, Chiho turned into her fuzzybunny form and scampered away. If only Frankenswine could have held it together for a couple more moments. He would have seen that he was so close. In his delirium he had just amplified the human qualities of the creation. He had been this close, a strand of hair's breadth away. But no, he had dropped dead and it was too late. People have the habit of dropping dead at the most inopportune moments.
Martha walked in several moments later, having decided to come and fire the man in person opposed to with a text message with Verizon because of their awesome texting plan. When she saw the body on the floor, she instantly ran out screaming. She couldn't be blamed with murder! She had just gotten off of probation! Prison can do bad things to a person's psyche. She used all of that craft-woman skill to remove the tank of gasoline from his car and slosh it all over the inside of the lab. Using her cigarette lighter, she dropped it and ran. It would destroy all of the evidence. Just what she needed. The amazing thing is, she actually believed that it was a good idea, and inconspicuous too. Because its completely normal for buildings to just burst into flames. She danced over to her car, laughing hysterically, and screaming things along the lines of "hahaha! Take THAT Bush! Ha! You and your gas prices!" and then later on, things along the lines of "Drown you polar bears! In your face you green peace enviornmentalists!".
It was a sad day over all. The world lost a brilliant scientist to the heartbreak of repeated failure. Martha, the wonder mom, finally cracked. But what of Chiho?
In the wild spread of the flames Chiho jumped into a small box. It happened to be a portal to Althanas. Frankenswine had been working on a side project that he had never gotten around to testing because he was so preoccupied with Chiho's creation. Well, it was the only one of his creations to have ever worked perfectly, and he never found out. His body, and the box, burned away in Martha's back yard bonfire while house wives all around town roasted their marshmallow Oprahs over the open flames.
That, is the history of Chiho.