Bundle of Fury

Our story begins, like every other story, on a day that was just another day for most of the world, but the most important day in life for certain of its residents.

Somewhere out there, someone was gathering up the courage to propose to the love of his life, and she would say yes. And somewhere out there, the love of a man's life was dying. For some, a totally new life, a life born from their love for another, would come into being.

And for those, life was just beginning.

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At the edge of the sky and the heavens, at the very tip-top of the highest clouds, the storks were gathering. The very storks that brought new life from the heavens into the bittersweet world below. Those brand-new bundles of joy, made of hope and stardust and their expectant mothers' love, and all that sickeningly saccharine drivel.

The head stork, a magnificent creature who seemed not far removed from the clouds and stardust herself, stood perched on a high spiral of cloud, glistening blue like the morning sky and shining like the untouched dew. Her underlings, the storks, the messengers of joy (oh dear, how long must I really keep up this cheesey nonsense?), would approach her, and she would hand off the precious packages (obviously a little bit longer), the little cloths filled with squealing baby beings. She would direct the storks where to go, and off they would fly into the gloaming, carrying the future on their wings.

An awkward, ungainly stork- somewhat of a new recruit- flew up to his superior, lit on the cloud-top, and saluted.

"Mornin', Miss!" he squawked.

"Hello, Roger," said the head stork, with a gentle smile that, even in its subtlety, was like the rays of the breaking sun. "Are you ready?"

"Quite ready, ma'am!" answered this Roger, hopping back and forth on his lanky legs and punching the air with his wings. "Wherever that baby needs to go, I'll get 'im there as fast as these feathers can fly!"

The mistress stork nodded with pride, then turned to grab the next package behind her. But as she did, she suddenly paused, looking a bit disturbed- an expression Roger had never seen on her placid face before, and indeed, nor had many more experienced storks.

The next bundle was wrapped not in a white cloth as usual, but a red one. It was a warning label from the guys in Packaging.

"Oh my stars…" she said softly. "It's this one."

"Somethin' wrong, milady?" inquired Roger with concern.

The lady turned back to her subordinate, resuming her smile, although it didn't seem quite as stable as before. "Oh, it's no big problem," she said. "It's just that… well, this one's a little different. Just… don't look at him, alright? Deliver him, but don't take a peek, and you'll be fine." She nudged the little red bundle over to the courier.

"Ehhr… alright, Miss, alright!" said Roger, brightening. "Now, where does this little fella belong?"

"He's a Beanish child," said the mistress, and she gave him the address.

"Ah yes, I know the place, I think," assured Roger. "Shouldn't be too hard to find."

"I have faith in you, young man," said the beautiful stork. "Just… remember what I told you."

"Will do, Milady!" he answered, and he took up the tied ends of the bundle in his beak. "Good day!" he mumbled as best as he could through his closed beak, and with a salute, he took to the air.

The stork flew over the brightening landscape, which was just now being kissed awake by the sun. (Kissed awake? Uggh. Honestly, I can't believe myself here.)  He rocketed over various lands, and soon found himself high above the borderlands of the Beanbean Kingdom.

At this point, he decided he should take a break, in order to appear as fresh and perky as possible when he made his fateful delivery to the lucky parents. If indeed they were lucky at all. His leader's comments had made him incredibly curious; it was only out of extreme respect for that lady that he hadn't snuck a peek after all as soon as he was out of sight of his fellow storks.

But now, as he fluttered down and landed, the delivery boy felt his curiosity overwhelm him. He was practically there- he could afford a look. He didn't think he could go on without satisfying his wonder. Roger considered it his reward for a job done speedy and well.

He was in a clearing in the middle of some woods. The woods had somewhat of a strange, damp, enchanting air to them, and there was a mansion off to the side of the clearing that looked rather unfriendly indeed, but he refused to let these things bother him. He would only be stopping here for a moment, after all.

And so, Roger set his precious bundle down, and gently, skillfully, with the tip of his beak, untied it.

Lying before him on a blanket of red cloth was a little green baby.

This first glimpse of the child paralyzed Roger- with confusion. The little thing was absolutely adorable! It was staring back up at him with wide eyes, and it already had a little tuft of black hair. Its mouth curled into a little smile that seemed somehow eerie, but it wasn't so bad a deal. Really, what was so unusual about this baby? Must've been a prank by his superiors…

As the stork looked back into the little bean's eyes, he couldn't help but break into a huge smile.  "Awww!" he cried. "You're nothin' to be afraid of, are ya, little squirt?"

And the baby- as babies do- echoed his smile and his glee. It broke out into a huge smile and a loud burst of laughter. And that smile was filled with teeth.

Huge teeth.

A full set of shining chompers. On a newborn.

"GAWWWK!" squawked the stork, leaping backwards in alarm.

"GAWWWW!" echoed the baby, laughing maniacally. And it seemed to the terrified stork that those teeth were coming out at him, that they were trying to get at him and chase him and bight his head off and eat him for the demon-spawn's first meal and-

"GRAWK! GAAAAWWWWK!" Roger took flight in a panic, so fast that he shed a few feathers along the way. But then, even in his mortal terror, his professional responsibility took hold. He fluttered back down, and in extreme dread, quickly bundled the baby back up. Then, as if picking up a deadly cobra, he took up the package in his beak and fluttered over to the porch of the mansion. He dropped the newborn child there unceremoniously from a few feet in the air, and without ever touching the ground, rapped wildly with his beak on the door.

And trailing more feathers, he flew off like an arrow and was gone.

(Roger never delivered another baby again. He quit the business and quickly spiraled downwards into a Chuckolaholic. But that's not part of our story, really.)

"Gack! Who could it possibly be?" someone within the house complained. Its sole occupant, as a matter of fact, and as she was speaking to no one in particular, she was probably a delusional villain. As she was indeed. "No one ever comes to visit. Especially not this early in the morning. I haven't even had my coffee yet, and I tell you if this isn't important-"

Cackletta interrupted herself by throwing her front door open and seeing no one. Now being quite sure there was no one to hear her, she actually gave up on the monologue. She was just about to slam the door shut again, infuriated at this game of ding-dong ditch that some young twerps were playing on an old lady, when suddenly a red package on her porch caught her eye.

"Ah, must've been the BURPS," she mumbled. (The Beanbean United Rapid Postal Service, if you didn't know.) "Usually I have to sign for these things. Hmm… I wonder what it is? I forget all the spell ingredients I've ordered recently…"

She bent down and scooped up the package. To her surprise, it was- warm.

And it made noise.

"GAWW HAW HAW!"

"GAAACK!" cried Cackletta, dropping the package in her surprise. As she did, the hastily-tied bundle came undone, and a tiny green baby tumbled out.

"Oh- oh my!" stammered Cackletta. "A- a baby? For me? But it couldn't be, I didn't- I haven't- it's been years since I- oh dear." She strode quickly over and scooped up the little thing, picking up the cloth and wrapping him in it again, but allowing his head to poke out. "Must be a mistake. Oh my. What am I to do with a baby?" She continued her monologue as she took the newborn inside her house, closing the door behind her. "Well, there are some powerful spells that call for babies. This is a rare treat indeed! I wonder what I should use it for… Gack ack ack!"

In her arms, the child was staring up at her, his eyes wide.

Suddenly Cackletta remembered that, for a mean person such as herself, few tricks afforded more joy than being mean to a baby. Thus she decided to frighten the poor thing out of its barely-formed wits. She leered down over it, and contorted her face into the most frightful and sadistic smile she was capable of, snarling and baring all of her razor-sharp teeth.

In almost no time at all, the baby reacted.

And it reacted by laughing hysterically, and breaking into a huge smile of its own.

"FAHH HA HA!"

It had teeth. Big white glistening teeth. Teeth where there should just be gums on a little baby.

Huge. Teeth.

Cackletta was so surprised that she dropped the little guy. Again. But unlike the stork, she hastily bent over and picked him up.

"Oh my, little dearie!" she cried. "You're not… terrified of that? You haven't soiled your diaper or anything… eh, have you?" She sniffed the air. "Don't think so."

"FAAH HAH HAHAHAAHA-!!"

Cackletta then realized she had set the little thing into a dangerous momentum of laughter, and she wasn't sure it would, or could, ever shut up.

Still holding the laughing baby in one arm, she dashed into her kitchen and threw open the fridge. There was some milk, but- but she didn't have anything that could serve as a bottle. Why would she?! Nor a pacifier, not even a lollipop to shove in this creature's toothy mouth.

"FAH FAHAHAHAHAAAAW!"

Yeah, it was making her crazy. Time to end this.

She spotted something that was quite bottle-like in the fridge, something ideal for a baby to suck on.

It was mustard. A plastic, squeezable bottle of mustard.

Cackletta grabbed it, popped the cap off, and shoved the dispensing end into the baby's mouth. He started to suck on it happily, and such a joy came into his eyes that one would think he was feasting on the nectar of the gods.

"You're a freak, kid," said Cackletta as she closed the fridge. But then… she looked back at the baby and smiled. Not a terrifying smile, but a gentle smile. A smile that she hadn't performed in years, and it cracked a few wrinkles in her face that hadn't been there before. "…The only kind of kid I could stand to have."

Thus nursing the baby with a bottle of mustard, she sat down on a big chair in her parlor.

"I guess I might have to take care of you after all," she said to the child. "I mean- well, I'm not a young rose anymore. I'm over the hill. I'm getting old, little guy. I do need a successor."

The baby stared up at her, sucking away.

"Heehee," she laughed, and suddenly, she didn't feel quite so old as all that. She felt, in fact, younger than she had in decades.

"But what shall I name you, then? I haven't had time to think about it like most mothers do. You came into my life rather suddenly, you little brat. Quite rude of you."

She sat for a moment in silence, absentmindedly supporting the bottle while she considered. Then she took the bottle out of the infant's mouth. He started crying, but she hushed him and ran her bony fingers over his head and through his tuft of hair. "Hush, little one. I need that for my hot dogs." And after a moment, the baby calmed down. Cackletta felt somehow accomplished.

"Now, now… a name. How about…" she looked at the brand name on the bottle of mustard: Franky's.

"Frank?"

The baby stuck out its bottom lip.

"Ah, quite right. Too normal. Doesn't suit you at all. You need something… insane. How about… Dimentio?"

The little one made a strange face, quite hard to describe, but obviously not one of pleasure.

"You're right. Somehow that seems to be taken already. And besides, it's kinda sissy. Alrighty… Krankfried?" The baby shook his head. "Jawohl, zu Deutsch, oder?"

Cackletta sighed, one arm around the baby and the other with its elbow on the arm of the chair, her chin in her hand.

After a full minute of consideration, she looked down at the little bean. "Well, it's a shame, but I can't think of a name for you," she said. "Perhaps you weren't meant to be mine after all. I guess I'll just have to put you back out in the wild. And to think, you almost had a life with me to look forward to."

The baby smiled its beastly smile once more. Cackletta smiled back, warmly, and said, in the most affectionate sense possible:

"You're an awful little creature, you know? Just awful."

"FAH-FO FAH-FO FAH-FO!"

The child had been silent for such a nice while now that its return to wailing clamor caught Cackletta off guard. She tried to stick the mustard back in its mouth, regardless of those hot dogs, but the little monster batted the bottle away.

"FAHHH-FO!"

He was repeating this over and over and over, though gradually slowing down in his iterations. Suddenly, it dawned on Cackletta what he was trying to say.

"Awful… " she repeated. "Awful."

"Fawwfoooohl!"

"Aaaaw." Said Cackletta, opening her mouth wide. "Awwwwful."

"Fawwwwwful!"

Another thing dawned on her, that this beast's huge teeth were getting in the way. Most babies couldn't even make an F sound, as they lacked the teeth to catch on their lower lips and hiss through. But this little child couldn't help doing it. His teeth were just… so… big.

Huge. Teeth.

Cackletta burst into a grin. "Fawful!" she crowed. "Well, isn't that the cutest thing. Fawful.. heh heh! GACK ACK ACK!"

"Fawful!" said the little Bean.

"Fawful you are," said Cackletta. "A Fawful creature indeed." And she held him close to her chest and felt something warm explode there and seep out through her, something that she had never encountered before in all her years, something she couldn't explain.

It was the start of a relationship some would call hideous, or disastrous, or terrible; a relationship born of fury and havoc and insanity and accident, of two freaks.

But some would call it beautiful.