As you may have noticed, I have been neglecting my two stories lately. I haven't replied to LO for about...*checks*...over a week now. So, to make up for this absence, I have provided you with an uber-long chapter! Oh, joy!
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A few days later, the stout Vykker came back to my lab table late at night. This time the papers he was holding were white, and I assumed that they were for Sinister Dr. X. As he tossed them onto my table, I noticed the label. They were documents to be admitted to an Insane Asylum for Vykkers.
Well, no more strange sounds now that Sinister Dr. X will be leaving. I sighed with relief. He was getting rather annoying.
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Weeks have passed now without even one Vykker or Intern coming to my table. I have not been tested on since Dr. X left. Although it was very relaxing to not have painful products tested you daily, it was getting rather boring.
Day after day, I have sat here on this cold, rusty metal table. I think I am going to die here. They haven't fed me in weeks. Nothing at all. My stomach had an aching emptiness that left me constantly wincing and groaning in pain. It was as if thousands of tiny needles were piercing my cold flesh.
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The electric lights slowly flickered on at 4 A.M., as they always do. About a dozen vykkers waltzed in, pushing and yanking impatiently and screeching incessantly. Each went to their own labratory tables and slowly quieted down. A few minutes later, the screeching erupted violently as they hollered down the hall to their interns. A dozen interns then scampered in, rolling their eyes sarcastically as they got the usual lecture from each of their vykkers about being late.
Still no vykker or intern came even close to my table. I groaned and squeaked at them, making every measly attempt I could to try to get at least one scrap of food. They all just ignored me or laughed, poking me occasionally.
About ten minutes later, a vykkerless intern strutted into the lab pushing an old rusted metal cart with some sort of creature on it. The wheels squeaked non-stop as they rumbled over the stained tiled floor. The intern stopped the cart about two feet to my right. I finally got a good look at the creature. I think I've heard about these, I thought. It's a baby elum.
About two feet in length, the young elum was howling, neck stretched desperately in the air. It's skin was pale brown and dusty, with a stitches, cuts and incisions here and there. I stared into it's lonely, longing, beautiful eyes.
"Help...meeeee...." it moaned in a small, innocent child-like voice.
What?! Did that elum just-just talk?!
"Mummy...help..."
I glanced around to see if anyone else had seen--or heard--this strange phenomenon. No vykkers, interns, or even fuzzles looked at the creature with even the slightest interest or confusion.
"Can...anyone hear me...?"
But elums weren't supposed to talk! It's a freak! FREAK!
No, I must be hallucinating. Hunger does very, very strange things to you. It couldn't be real. It just couldn't.
But what if it is? I thought. What if the vykkers had done something to this poor elum, and made it speak?
"Y-yes, I can hear you," I squeaked. But how could it understand me? Even if it did speak the same language as the vykkers, it wouldn't understand me. Nobody could interpret the fuzzle language, nobody ever in history.
"I...I don't know what they're going to...do to me...!" it answered, breathing heavily.
"Just stay calm, you'll be alright." No it wouldn't. It was in the hands of the vykkers. Shame on you, Lily, I thought. Shame on you for lieing to a young...elum.
But I had to keep its hopes up. It only has a few more hours, even days, if its lucky, to live. Make those last hours enjoyable, not fearful.
"Th...th...they took me away from mummy," it whimpered. I saw a tear roll down his smooth, trembling cheek. "I was so happy back then. Mummy and I would play fun games."
"I'm sure they'll bring you back to her soon," I said, attempting to soothe it.
"I hope...s...so. They took me into this cold, dark, scary room and put needles and knives into my tummy," it told me. "Now it's no fun. It just hurts...a lot."
I winced painfully, picturing those horrid, evil vykkers causing pain and suffering to this poor little elum.
"You're...the first one...who's answered," it said sadly.
"What do you mean?"
"I've...been...calling out...ever since the bad men...took me...away," it paused. This was obviously a horrible burden to carry. "Whenever I do, the bad...men...poke me and cut me...the funny men in...swimsuits just...laugh...and point..." I watched another tear roll down the sorrowful creature's face.
"What do the fuzzles do?"
"They...they...roll their eyes..."
"So nobody understands what you're saying?"
"No...I don't think...so..." it paused, and temporary happiness lightened up its face. "Except you..."
This is very odd, I thought. Why would I, out of all of the creatures on Oddworld, be able to understand this elum?
A rather lean vykker with a toupee´ loomed over the elum's cart. In one hand was a large, sharp blade with blood stains on the jagged teeth. In the other was a large seringe with green, bubbling liquid.
"Now, little elum," it sneered, "we can do it the easy way..." he held up the seringe. "or my way..." he held up the large blade, pure evil in his eyes. "Can't decide? Well, since you're such a beautiful young elum, I'll give you ten seconds to choose. One...two..." Several other vykkers gathered around, laughing, pointing and mocking the helpless elum.
"Easy way...easy...way..." it desperately wheezed. What a poor thing. I wish I could just save it, right here, right now. I would gladly take the place of the young elum. Oh, if that were possible...
The vykker continued to count. "Nine...ten! You lose! Well, since you couldn't decide, I think we should poll the audience, don't you, Johnny?" An intern in the distance gave him the thumbs up, giggling. "Okay then, audience, how many of you want to do it my way!" the whole lab erupted with hollering, hooting and chanting. "And how many of you want to do it the easy way...?" he sneered, peering around mockingly. The room was filled with dead silence. I have to try to save it, I thought. I have to.
"Meep...mee...meep...mee..." I squeaked nobily. All of the vykkers stared at me menacingly. No fuzzles had ever spoken up. Never in the history of Vykkers Labs. I looked around. All of the fuzzles were staring at me too. I nodded my head to them, motioning to help.
"Meep...mee...meep...mee...meep..." another fuzzle had started to chant along with me. C'mon, let's show these vykkers, I thought.
"Meep...mee...meep..." another started chanting. And another. Soon, the whole lab was flooded with the squeaking of my fellow fuzzles. Show your pride, I thought. Stand up to these menaces!
I looked at all of the vykkers. Each had a horribly distorted look on their face, truly offended by we noble fuzzles. Many of them were yelling at each other, but their yelling was drown out by our chanting. I noticed one vykker in the corner secretly chanting along with the fuzzles.
An extremely overweight vykker rushed over to a large, metal box on the wall. He opened the latch and quickly typed in a series of numbers on the florescent green glowing number pad. A large red light on the ceiling started to flash red, and an alarm rang throughought each and every room.
Seconds later, a large robotic snoozer and several armed interns rushed into the room. The snoozer shot each and every chanting fuzzle, and the chanting was soon replaced by fuzzle screams and moans. The armored interns ran over to the lab tables and hit each fuzzle with a large, blue stick. Electricity shot out of the stick and shocked each fuzzle that was hit. Soon after, the room was again dead silent. The alarm had stopped, and the guards marched out of the room. I looked around at my fellow fuzzles. Fur was burnt on most of their backs, and many were passed out. There's no way we can overthrow these vykkers, I thought. No way at all.
A muffled voice came on from the speaker above the labratory door. "There has been an unexpected event in Labratory Room Number 4928, and due to certain circumstances, no fuzzles will be fed for two weeks." There were several dissapointed groans and whines from the fuzzles, and many cheers and hoots from the vykkers.
So to silence us, they're going to starve us. What a petty attempt to win.
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