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fuzzydemolitionsquad · 7 years

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Lasat family slice of life story

So I took a short vacation from one project to do a personal project, and I've found that breaking away and changing up really helps reignite passion when it comes to returning to stories that have been in the works for months . . . some even years.

This features my Southern-mountain folk lasat oc's so if you don't reeealy like that sort of thing in the Star wars universe I totally understand. If you're interested though, I encourage a read. I'm trying to improve when it comes to writing engaging characters.

The exaggerated language/words these guys speak is part researched and part imagined. The story is a fiction-y take on old-timey Appalachian culture (space Appalachian culture?) (which I love) It's gradually gets more 'lasat' toward the end.

It doesn't have a title. Maybe someone can help?

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Morning

Southeast Lasan

The sun draped a ribbon of honey-colored light over the highest ridge of the Sou Mountains, alighting the tops of the tallest greenjacket trees. A pale blue moon, flanked by its three smaller satellites, lay low in the fading-star-freckled sky.

Morning had come, and the inhabitants of every mountain home, from Sarrkey Knob to Pricklebush, were awake and bustling with activity. It was the beginning of Spring, a scant few months away from the Dust Season, and the hillfolk in these mountains had much to do. The snow had melted. It was time to plant crops and repair fences and barns. Time to pull hammerhead cow calves and build mud-and- straw nests for farrowing kalgow sows.

Shoog Trodd languished in the cocoon of her feather-down quilt. She knew it was time to get up, and also knew if she didn’t get her furry brown butt out of bed soon, her ma would certainly aid her in the process. ‘The chookens won’t gathee they’s own aigs fer us’, she’d say, waving her apron at her with a flourish.

Shoog lifted the hem of her old nightgown and looked down her skinny legs to her too-large feet and growled to herself. She wished she looked more like her older sister. Sally Trodd was built like one of those Amethyst City gals—the voluptuous ones with glossy fur and whitened fangs—who had their pictures in all the prominent fashion flimsi-mags. Sal would look good in a paper poke, if the occasion ever arose where she had to wear one.

It was Shoog’s Flowering Day, the seventeenth year since her birth, but instead of being happy, she was as glum as could be.

"Gonna have to wear the same dress fer my Flowerin’ Day that I wore fer mah last birthday. And I don’t even have m’ ears pierced. Ma and pa says I’m a woman now, but I still dress like a little ol’ kid. Wish I had some pocket money to least buy some ankle garters."

A chooky rooster crowed on the fencepost and Shoog jumped out of bed. She could hear her ma in the kitchen tossing logs into the iron woodstove. Pa was rousing too. It was customary for pa to utter a few gruff ‘karabasts’ each morning before work. He wished he had more time to enjoy the morning’s light, but soon enough he would be descending into the bowels of the G.R.Gradd-Co Quadranium Mine no. seven, and wouldn’t return home until after the sun had dipped below the mountains. The one thing he looked forward to was ma’s breakfasts, even in the lean times. Today there would be fried scrapple and eggs, sweet gorm porridge and wood-sprite mushroom preserves on last night’s leftover maize bread. And caf, strong and black.

Shoog threw an old coat over her nightdress and ran a comb through her wild hair. She hustled out of her room and trotted for the front door.

"Sugar!"

The lasat girl halted at the sound of her mother’s voice.

"Come sit a spell woodja?"

"Gotta use thee outhouse, ma!"

"I ain’t gonna take long. Sides, Puggles is in there right now."

Shoog tossed her head back and closed her eyes."Chaos, Puggles, I know we is alike, but do yew always hafta go when I need to?"

She marched into the kitchen and sat at the Trodd family’s ancient split log table. She traced her parents initials with her claw. It was a sweet testament to their love, and had been for almost seventy years.

Ma sat down with a cup of caf and propped her strong, brown-furred arms on the table. " Shoog, I was a thinkin,’ I’d like t’ curl yer hair and pin it up with granny’s blue pearl combs fore yer cuzzins and friends show up fer yer Flowerin’ Day party. What’cha think?"

The girl’s pointed ears perked. "That sounds good ma! Kin I ask Sal to pierce my ears? "

Ma’s nasal fold wrinkled in disdain. "Yew know I dun like those. They make a young female look like a fast female."

"What’s a fast female?"

"Thee kind what runs around wid all sorts a’ males. Sparkin’ all thee time and drinkin’ likker! Yew got a reppy-tayshun to keep, Shoog."

Pa, a seven-and-a-half-foot mountain of a lasat, entered the kitchen. He set his miner’s helmet on the table, squeezed ma’s shoulders and gave her a tender nose-press. They exchanged a quick breath.

"Aww, ma, stop beein’ so old-fashioned. If my Sugar wants a cupple lil’ earrings t’ make her head look purtier, then she kin have um. It’s her Flowerin’ Day after all."

Ma was incensed. Her yellow-orange eyes bulged. She pounded the heavy table and it quivered. " Rufus Aloysius Trodd! Donchee dare step on me like that! Iffen I say no, I mean no!"

Pa poured himself a large pottery mug of caf. He quickly pressed the rim of the mug against his lips to hide his smile

Shoog sulked. Sometimes her mother was such a bogan. "Well, kin I at least go to the second-hand and look fer a dress to wear?"

Pa set down his caf. "I’m sorry darlin’. Money’s tighter than a Nemoidian’s fist right now. I still owes the comp-ny store fifty creds from last month. Maybe next year."

"Next year won’t be my Flowerin’ Day." Shoog pushed back her chair and buttoned up her coat. "Pa?" She looked at her fearsome but loving patriarch. "Is yew gonna be at my party?"

" I’m reel sorry darlin. I hafta work all day. We found a new vein a’ quadranium and the boss man want us to fill thee quota afore Secondday."

"Oh." Shoog said, deflated. "I better go git them aigs. Dun want yew to miss yer breakfast."

"That’s a good girl." Ma oiled a skillet and set it aside. "Dun bother lil’ Speckle. Jus’ let her be. Thee other hens wuz picking on her sumthing awful yesterday. I think she’s gonna die."

Shoog winced. "Figgurs. She’s my favrit. What a great day this is turnin’ out to be."

The girl slammed the screened door as she exited the house. Ma and pa looked at each other and smiled.

"Oh, I cain’t stand trickin’ her like this. Do you think she has any idear?"

"None whatsever."

Ma plucked a jar of mushroom preserves off the top shelf and set it on the table."Rufus, yew really owe thee comp-ny store fifty credits?"

"Course not. I’s jus tryin’ to fatten up our story some." Rufus growled low in his throat. It was a plaintive growl, not a scary one. "Cain’t believe my youngest girl-cub is a woman-lasat. Seems like only yesterday she wuz a little sprig, wrasslin’ oalamanders in th’mud."

"An’ Puggles will follow her in a year. Then all of our cubs’ll be growed."

"If Puggles don’ stop sparimentin’ wid them damn farcrackers he ain’t gonna make it to his seventeenth birthday. I swear, that cub’s plumb crazy."

"Yew hesh-up now Rufus. Puggles is just gittin’ out his fluster-ations by havin’ a lil’ fun. Jimbo and Jax won’t stop pickin’ on him. It’s high time they got a few whacks wid Ol’ Skinner."

Pa looked down at the infamous belt around his massive girth and chuckled. One day he’d have to hang it in the shed with the rest of the tools.

"I s’pose yer right. I jus ain’t home enough to discipline them. Heh, at least we kin be thankful Puggles ain’t buildin’ bombs. He shore does take a shine to the boomin’ don’t he? Member how much he loved thunder when he wuz a sucklin’ cub?"

Ma grinned. "Shore enough I do. All dem other cubs wood be quiverin’ under they beds, but Not Puggles. He’d climb all over his crib and giggle and sway like he were list’nin to a funny song."

" Seems like only yesterday." Pa reminisced. "I should take him down to the mine, let him watch the detonite crew at work. He’d prolly like dat."

* * * *

Shoog crouched in the henhouse with a full basket of eggs and Lil’ Speckle tucked inside her coat. Jimbo’s prized hen, a big blue with a row of serrated teeth in her lizard-like jaw, glared angrily at the timid chooken sticking her head out of Shoog’s collar. ‘Lola’ strutted back and forth on one of the henhouse rafters, cluck-hissing, her feathers puffed and her spur toes clacking.

"Speckle, we better git outta here afore Lola shits on us . . . or worse. I’ll keep yew in my closet, but yew gotta be real quiet when I give these aigs to ma. Deal?"

The injured chooken cocked her head. She opened her mouth and waggled her tongue, panting.

When Shoog entered the house, she carried the basket over to the wash counter and set it down. She gripped the collar of her coat, holding it close to her neck, and turned to walk to the small bedroom she shared with Sal. Ma caught her by the ear.

"Yoww!"

"Hold on there. Ain’t yew fergetting something?"

Shoog huffed in indignation. "I has to scrub them aigs on my Flowerin’ Day?"

"It’s yer chore ain’t it?"

"Yeah but . . ."

" Get scrubbin’ missy."

Shoog scowled. She looked over at Sal, who was setting the table. Sal’s eyes met her sister’s as she placed a bowl of fresh churned butter on the table. For a moment, Shoog thought she looked sympathetic.

"Now I know why yew celebrated yer seventeenth birthday in the city wid yer friends. I thought it wuz dumb, but it all makes sense now."

Ma and pa looked at each other, silent as tombs.

Shoog got down to business scrubbing the eggs, trying to keep the chooken in her coat still and quiet. She thought of The Amethyst City—The Royal City—and daydreamed about the King and Queen and their well-dressed court. She thought about the beautiful but air-headed princess, and the handsome, ginger-furred prince. He was tall, with bedroom eyes, a curled mustache and pomaded facial fringes. It was said that he had over a hundred lovers, most of them married, but Shoog didn’t believe it. No lasat, male or female, could have that many lovers! She then thought about the Royal Honor Guard, the cream of Lasan’s military force. They were hand-picked from their barracks by war-council leaders, chosen for their agility and strength and smarts. Shoog couldn’t deny how good the male soldiers looked in their form-fitting armorweave suits, complete with capes, helmets and bo-rifles. A burst of painful pleasure electrified the pit of her belly and she forced herself to think of other things.

When she was done, she dried her hands on the dishtowel and stormed toward her room. Ma shouted after her.

"Breakfast will be ready in about a quarter-tick."

"I’m not hungry!"

Ma’s tough facade melted. She whispered to pa. " I don’ think I kin do this anymore. If I keep it up she’s gunna hate me somethin’ awful."

Pa laughed. " Why don’ yew jus’ let her have her gad-durned earrings? She’ll be as happy as a killow flying through a skeeter storm. They won’t turn her into a wicked woman. Our Sugar is a good girl."

Sal’s eyes narrowed.

Sadie snorted and her slot nostrils flared. "Fine. Mebbe I’ll git my ears pierced too. And buy me one of them low-cut gowns, like thee ones them street corner gals wear."

Sally spat out her coffee and made a high-pitched noise, like a reed-squirrel chipping. The thought of her strong, robust-figured mother in a slinky gown was impossible not to giggle at. Pa however, had a different opinion of the matter. He smoothed down his thick mane of a beard and quirked his brow salaciously.

"Yew git yerself a gown like that Sadie, and I’ll personally throw erryone of our brood outta thee house an tell em to stay away fer three days."

Sally stopped laughing. She rolled her long-lashed eyes.

"Gross, pa. Really gross."

She picked a warty-skinned tuber out of the vegetable bin, tossed it into the air and caught it.

"One set of pierced ears coming up." She said, flouncing and jiggling in a most impressive way.

*******

"I wish I wuz a chooken." Shoog said, filling a box in her closet with old handkerchiefs. Lil’ Speckle flopped around on her bedroom floor. She clucked feebly and pecked at a crumb of food that had fallen between two boards.

"Then I could just strut about, pecking and a’ eatin’ and shittin’ out aigs. I wouldn’t have to worry bout being a Gods-dammed loser on my Flowerin’ Day."

"Aren’t you being a bit dramatic?" Sally said, slinking into the room like a brown-furred Goddess. "It’s hardly the end of Lasan. And you better be careful. Ma will give you the back of the brush if she hears you cursing."

Sally had practiced long and hard to speak like a ‘proper’ lasat, ridding herself of that ‘inherited common-human inflection.’ The humans had left Lasan over a millennia ago, but the ancestors of those lasats who neighbored with them in the mountains still spoke the speak.

"Ooh Shoog, what do you have there? A chooken? Are you, as they say, ‘a’fixing to rile ma up?"

" Cakkhh! Shoog spat-snarled. Stop beein’ so damn snobby. It’s annoyin’! Like it or not, you is a hilltrekker jus like the rest of us, and yew always will be. And yes, it’s a chooken. If stupid Jimbo kin bring his precious Lola in th’ house, I dun see no good reason why I cain’t keep Speckle."

On any other day, Sally would jump Shoog for her insolence. The two would engage in a howling, clawing, hair-pulling battle until ma came bursting in to give their bottoms’ a good beating. But today was Shoog’s special birthday. Sal decided to let it go. She sat down on her bed, rolled onto her belly and folded her arms under her chin. She stared at her sister, a tooka’s grin on her face. "So, how do you feel you little nerf? Different?"

"Why would I feel diff’rent?" Shoog lifted Lil’ Speckle into the box and checked her wounds.

" Because you’re a ‘wahmerr’ now. Sally enunciated the Illasano word for ‘woman.’

"Don’ feel like no wahmerr."

" I mean, what do you think about the jackbeards around these parts? They give you the belly tingles yet?"

Shoog flushed. "Sometimes. But Hells, half of the boys round these parts have scrawny beards and bony shoulders."

"True. However, there’s a handsome jack visiting the Boggs. A dark blue striper without a tail. And he has a nice beard coming in." Sal sighed wistfully. "Wonder who he is and where he comes from?"

The younger girl shrugged. "Dunno. I ain’t never seen him."

"If you play your sabbacc cards right, and flirt like I taught you, he might be your boyfriend . . ." Sal said in a sing-song voice.

"Bogan’s balls, I don’ want no boyfriend. I ain’t ready fer all that. I still sleep wid that howler bear toy granny made me when I wuz five."

"I know. And you still suck your thumb."

"I do not! That’s Puggles!"

"Well, I don’t sleep in Puggles’room."

Shoog was about to make a retort when Sally held up the tuber in her hand.

"Why you got that tater? Is yew gonna throw it at me?"

" No, dummy. Ma finally took pity on you. She’s going to allow me to pierce your ears. See the yellow glass studs on my dresser? Those are for you. I liked them when I bought them, but yellow’s not really my color. Happy Flowering Day, Twig."

Shoog squealed. She hopped up onto Sal’s bed and jumped around like a jitter-tick on a hot speeder engine.

"Is yew serious?"

"Serious as a snake-bite. Now stop jumping. That’s all I need is for you to break my bed and have ma thinking me and some jack did it!"

" Ok, sorry." Shoog leapt down. She rocked on her footpads. Her eight toes kneaded the rug beside the bed.

There was a knock at the bedroom door and ma came in, a clean kitchen towel in her hand.

"Here’s the knife fer the tater and a biled safety pin. Yew sure yew know how to do this Sal?"

"Yes ma. I’ve pierced so many of my friends’ ears I’m practically a professional."

"Land a muddlin’ I shore hope so."

Shoog ran to her mother and squeezed her ample waist. "Thank yew, mama, thank yew!!"

"Alright child, alright." Ma held her out at arms length and looked at her. A tear formed in the corner of her eye. "Don’t yew come cryin’ to me if they get infected, ya hear?"

"I won’t."

Ma wiped her eyes with her apron and stood against the doorframe, watching. Sal cut the potato and set it on the clean towel then got the studs. She put them down and looked around. "Do we have any alcohol, ma?"

" Kingdom a’ Ashla and thee Great Bearded One!! No we don’t."

"I can’t do this unless I disinfect everything."

Shoog whined. "Aww, I knew this wuz too good to be true." She threw herself on her bed and crossed her arms like a petulant toddler. She glanced up. A green-bellied arach was spinning a red web on the ceiling.

"Spahder in the house!" She shouted. "Bad luck, bad luck, bad luck be gone!"

Ma ignored Shoog. "I know! Hold on a second."

She left and returned with a jar of clear, sky-colored liquid.

"That’s pa’s blue lightning!" Sal blinked her eyes, shocked. "He and Mossy only made a small batch this year. If he finds out we used it for. . ."

"What he don’ know won’t rile him. Sides, yer only gonna use a little." Ma handed Sal the jar.

The lasat girl unscrewed it and the potent vapors almost knocked her over. She dipped the clean towel in the jar and wiped it all over her hands. Then she wiped the studs. Shoog sat up and held her mid-section. Fairy-bats were flittering around in her belly.

"You ready? Sal held up the safety pin.

"It ain’ gonna hurt a lot is it?"

" Ashla, Shoog. All that whining and now you’re scared? Janey’s the biggest coward in these hills and she let me pierce her ears."

"I know but . ."

"It doesn’t hurt at all. It’s more like a little pinch than anything. Besides, I’m fast. Just close your eyes and hold your breath and it’ll all be over before you know it. Here, hold your growly-bear."

Shoog took the worn stuffed animal and pushed it against her face. Sally moved to her sister’s bed. She gripped her ear and stretched it thin over the potato. Ma steepled her hands in front of her mouth.

Sal stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth and squinted. Her piercing hand hovered over her sister’s ear. "Okay Shoog, little pinch. One. . . two. . . THREE!"

She skewered her sister’s pinna with one punch and removed the tuber.

"That’s it. I’ll leave it in there and let it stretch the hole out a bit."

Shoog removed the bear from her face. "That’s it? I hardly felt that a’tall! Do the other one!"

"Hold your krauntauns. I’m wiping the pin."

Sally pierced Shoog’s other ear and pushed the studs through. Shoog ran to the mirror to admire her sister’s work. The earrings were beautiful, like scintillating dew drops touched by the sun. Ma brushed and curled her daughter’s thick, dark brown hair and dabbed a drop of tinted gloss on her lips. "Look up." She said as she applied two coats of mascara to her lashes. Sal tried to be helpful when she offered Shoog one of her too-small short skirts and a tiny top. Ma vetoed them the moment they exited the closet. She walked her daughter over to the dresser mirror and stood behind her.

"Wooo." Shoog leaned forward and studied the visage staring back at her. "I dun look half bad."

"You look a’might purty if yew ask me." Ma kissed her cheek. " Now rest up a spell. Thee guests should start arrivin’ by sunhigh. I’m gunna go pay yer aunt Daizee a call. Bring her some tack-biscuits and sweet-nettle tea. That baby inner is making her as sick as an anooba in a melon patch."

"Well it is an Orrelios." Sal said, her eyes downcast.

"Hesh-up. I don’t want none of that talk outta you ‘round Daizee, yew hear?"

"Yeah, I hear."

******

Sugar Trodd dreamed that the prince of Lasan had invited her to the Royal Palace. Naturally, he was infatuated with her at first sight. Never had he seen such a delicate mountain flower. He compared her eyes to the torch-fires of Izrothir , her lips to a fount of heady wine and her small breasts to a pair of decadent Aztecan chocolate truffles. He found himself mad with passion and he couldn’t help but beg her to be his wife. Shoog smiled in her slumber when he breathed into her ear and nuzzled her temple with his lips. She traced the prince’s handsome brow-ridges with her fingertips and put her hands on the back of his head. She drew him in close, touching her snub nose to his. They shared a life-breath and then connected in a kiss. . .

The sounds of a gathering crowd whisked the prince away into obscurity. Shoog woke with a snort. She jumped out of bed and drew back her curtain to look at a large gathering of women-lasats arranging food on a long plank table in front of the house. Some she recognized, like her aunts and cousins and friends, but some she didn’t. Did her cousins and friends invite friends of their own?

Wood in the brick fire pit burned hot, and the mouth-watering smell of roasting prongnose wafted in through her bedroom window. She closed the curtain with a swift pull.

"Karabast! That’s all fer me? All that food and all them people?" She knelt in front of the chest at the foot of her bed and frantically pulled clothes from it. Lil’ Speckle looked at her with sleepy-hen eyes, then, unfazed, drank from the water dish Shoog had provided her.

"There ain’t nothing in here worth wearing, cept mebbe this fancy sweaterdress. Uhhggh, No!" She threw it down. "It too hot outside fer that!"

She sat back down on her bed and agonized over her choices. Then,

"You know what? Ma and Sal went through a lot of trouble to make me feel good. Least I kin do is be ‘preesh-ative. That ol’ dress a mine ain’t so bad. Hells, nobody will recognize it from last year. I hope."

Shoog wriggled into her slip and tossed the old blue dress on. It was a little tighter and shorter than she remembered. Was it possible she did that much growing in one year? She buttoned it up.

She went to the mirror and combed her curls, then put on another dab of gloss and rubbed her lips together. Ma came into the room, a colorful box tucked under her arm.

"Oh, Sugar darlin’ that old dress won’t do. Not fer yer flowerin’!"

"It’s not a bad dress ma. An’ look, it fits me better this year!"

"I dunno," Sadie rubbed her furry chin. "What do yew think Daizee?"

Aunt Daizee’s purple-striped face peered into the room. She was a pretty lasat, pretty as a jogan, but a lack of sleep and constant morning sickness had hollowed her cheeks and darkened the sockets of her eyes.

"I reckon it’s okay. But I think you’d like what’s in the box better."

Shoog’s heart skipped a beat. She eyed the colorful package tucked under her mother’s arm and her mouth dropped open. She felt like a magnet drawn to metal.

"Happy Flowerin’ Day my darlin’." Ma handed Shoog the package. It was wrapped in pink foil paper and tied with a big white bow. Shoog whistled through her front teeth.

"That’s the nicest wrappin’ paper I’ve ever seen in my whole life! I don’ wanna rip it."

"Oh go ahead, rip it!" Sal said, coming into the room.

"No. It’s too purty to waste. I kin use it again." Shoog sat cross-legged on her bed with the box on top of her knees. She was dying to see what was inside.

After carefully removing the bow and paper she removed the box top and unfolded the dish towel containing her present. She held her hands to her mouth and gasped. Inside, was an elegant strapless dress the color of fresh-churned butter. Shoog lifted it out of the box. It had a scalloped front and was gathered at the waist. The opening in back, plunging to mid spine, was laced with delicate yellow ribbons.

"Great Bearded One, if this ain’t the purtiest dress I ever did see!" She held it up in front of her and twirled. "And strapless too! Ain’t this gonna make me look ‘fast’ ma?"

" Yer auntie says it’s an elegant dress. It ain’t meant t’ make yew look fast. Hit’s meant t’ make yew look like a lady."

"It’s gorgeous, Shoog." Sal said with a hint of jealousy.

*********

Shoog greeted her guests. They oohed and aaahed and told her to turn around. Great aunts pinched her cheeks and friends and cousins made big productions out of her new look. They ‘Oh my Godded’ and ‘You’re so luckyed’ her so much, she felt like a celebrity. When she slipped away for a second to get some pucker-fruit punch she looked into the throng of lasats and felt her face contort into a confused frown.

Where were all the males?

Every guest, except for the youngest cubs, were female.

Shoog saw her eldest sister Mae placing a bowl of rarrcot and swamp-plum salad on the table. She went up to her.

"Hey mama Mae."

" There she is! The belle of the ball. The most beautiful girl here. And to think, yew were a rough-and tumble little jack-boy the last time I saw yew."

"Aw, I’m still a jack-boy. I ain’t never gonna stop huntin’ and fishin’ wid pa, or stop wrasslin wid the fellers."

"Yew might wanna reconsider that last one." Mae said, wiping the rim of the bowl with a wet cloth.

"Uhm, speaking of fellers, where’s all th’ males at? I ain’t seen a peek of Jimbo or Jax or Muss or Puggles. Not even Mawsy. And there’s beer here, I know it!"

"I’m sure they’re around. Somewhere." Mae winked and tweaked Shoog’s chin. She turned at the sound of a grating female voice. "Oh, I see someone invited that ol’ loon-cootie Lottie Bingo. She’s prowbly thumping the Great Bearded One’s book, preachin’ about the sins of the flesh and fur." She frowned. "Bless her heart. Well, excuse me darlin,’ I have to find some more cutlery. I brought my wedding set of aurodium plate, great-Aunt Tilda and Winnie did too, but a lot more lasats than we anticipated turned up to see yew flower."

Shoog hugged her sister and skipped off. She joined her friends and kin on the grassy hill behind the barn and stood in a long line. They played malogi’-majlogo, a once-competitive game that was rumored to come from the fabled planet of Lirasan. Most historians and lasopoligists believed all lasats living on Lasan came via a human transport over three-thousand years ago, as no bones found in middens were any older. Lasats had to come from somewhere. Perhaps the legend of Lirasan wasn’t so far fetched as many once thought.

The girls clapped their hands loudly, calling out the name of the first girl in line. Cousin Hildi stepped out of line and performed a dance she had conjured up the night before. She flapped her arms like a killow and stood high on her toes and cartwheeled until he landed on her tail. Laughing, she skipped her way to the end of the line. Next was Sally. Her dance—though impressive— was as predictable as it was sensuous, and was hard to clap to. Other girls followed, each one with their own trademark dance style. Then came Shoog’s turn.

Pumped with adrenaline, she ran out in front of the gang of laughing girls and raised a ferocious scream so loud her younger cousins covered their sensitive ears. She crouched low and prowled and paced. She bared her fangs and popped her eyes. They burned a deep orange around their pinprick pupils. The girls went wild. They clapped in quintuple-beat, clap clap. . . clapclapclap. . . a warrish beat. Shoog knelt in the grass and shimmied her shoulders. She slapped the palms of her hands on the ground and whipped her head around then sprang from her crouch, eight feet into the air, landing in a pose reminiscent of that of a sprinter at a starting line. She stood, thrust out a bent leg and raised her face to the sky before letting out another scream. The girls were about to applaud the dance when the most blood-curdling roar they had ever heard split the air through the holler. Shoog stood up straight. A beaming smile covered her face. She knew that roar.

Coming up the rising path was a large troop of males, her father in the lead.

"Pa!" She lifted her dress and ran straight for the giant lasat, her companions not far behind. The eerie moan of traditional polished horn prong-pipes heralded the males’ entrance. The blowing of the pipes informed colonies of lasats that a clan leader was approaching. Even in the royal city they used wrought-ore versions of the ancient instruments whenever the King and Queen made an appearance.

Flanking pa were his sons. Rufus jr. and Zelbert. Muss and Naylor. Jax and Jimbo and Puggles. Even Trapper, who spent most of his life in solitude in the high mountains. As she got closer, Shoog saw Mossy, and also cousin Zeke and Bubba. A phalanx of other kin and family friends followed behind. Shoog leapt at her father who caught her in a hug then hoisted her up onto his shoulder. They marched through the crowd of women-folk and stood at attention in the yard. On the porch, pa’s well-fed anooba Gracie horrked and slobbered and ran her tongue over the jutting spade of a tooth in her lower jaw. She galloped up to Rufus and stood upright, putting her long-clawed paws on his chest. Mossy grabbed a beer from a washtub and cracked it open on the beastly creature’s tooth. The young boys in the crowd laughed.

The male lasats were dressed in their finest woodsmen-warrior garb, which included sleeveless, multipocketed jerkins and arm bracers with pouches. They wore gray prongnose-wool skilts—with clan colors and designs around the bottom— and leather codpieces and knife sheaths. Most bore two bandoliers that crisscrossed their chests and each male carried an impressive arsenal of weapons. Pa’s old rifle was slung across his back and two throwing axes hung at his hips. Whip-killow feathers wreathed his bony dome, and his face, already fearsome, was painted white, like a skull. There were males with shining daggers and lacquered bats. Males with falchions, slugthrowers and plasma spitters, pole-bows, maces and spears.

Each male was fearsome and striking, even little Puggles, whose painted face and shark-jawed visage made him look like a strangely formidable foe. The trio of smoke-screamer grenades in his bandolier also helped.

Shoog kicked Gracie’s paws off Rufus’s chest. " Don’tchu get my dress dirty y’ whip-tailed bitch. I’ll brain ye!"

A lasat in the back, pa’s friend Tabe, guffawed like a drunk at a circus.

"That thar is deffy-nit-ly yer pro-genny ol’ Roof! Shore as a tick loves a furry ass-crack."

"We is gonna have t’ get more beer." Ma whispered to Daizee.

The purple-striped female caressed the small bulge in her belly. "Um, or mebbe not. I’m sure some of them boys brang they’s own distillate. Hey!" She yelped. "Easy little one. Land’ a muddlin’, only five months old and she’s kickin’ like a cow!"

Shoog poked her pa’s snub nose and wiped the white paint on his jerkin. "Hey pa, why is yew fellers all fancied up an’ armed to thee teeth?"

Rufus tickled Shoog’s ear, like he did when she was small."I wuz unner thee impression they taught yew kids history in school!"

"They did! But all we loined about wuz thee portent ‘citified lasats’."

"Damn shame. Well Sugar, hits like this. Back in the day, b’fore miners and mines an’ banks and comp’ny stores, there wuz th’ Clans o’ Thee Forest. Some clans wuz small and sum clans wuz big. Our linny-age goes way back. There wuz Trodds what wuz picked to fight in thee barbarian wars."

"Oh yeah! I ‘member grampy saying somethin’ like that!"

"Anyway, prommy-nunt clan leaders wuz a’might fond of they’s kids. When a girl came of the age for broodin,’ her pa threw her a big party so young-jacks could come to show their talents and try they’s hands at wooin’.

"Hell, I ain’t gonna do no broodin, er, breedin! Not fer a long time!"

" Corse y’ ain’t! This wuz thee old days, ‘member?"

"Oh yeah. So why all the weapons?"

"Well, a Clan leader had to pertect his daughter frum jope-jacks and briggards, so he employeed his own personal army a’ kinfolk an’ frens t’ keep her safe."

" That’s purty wizard pa."

"What?"

"That’s neat."

Rufus lifted his daughter off his shoulder and set her on the ground in front of him. His face was stoic, cool and composed, but under the skin he was weeping. His hook-baiter, his lizard spooker, his fire-starter, was now a woman. Suddenly he was glad for all his faithful ‘warriors’. There were boys showing up at the party that he didn’t know. One thing was for sure. They wouldn’t want to know him if they messed with Shoog.

**********

Ma eventually broke down. From the moment she woke, she told herself that she wouldn’t cry today. She was certain her spirited and independent daughter would breeze through the ceremony without nary a sniffle or a tremor, but as the visitors crowded around the decorated stump and Rufus helped Shoog up on top of it, ma could tell her poor girl was nervous to the point of fainting. She looked so small, so vulnerable.

Pa pulled a dog-eared book out of one of his breast pockets, licked his thumb and turned the pages. The book, with its crackled parchment pages was over nine-hundred years old. It had been passed from clan patriarch to clan patriarch, and when the time came for Rufus to be bested in combat by one of his sons for title as clan leader—most likely Rufus jr.—he would pass it down as well.

Ma stood next to pa. To his other side was Shoog’s sister Hallie, the Trodd family medicine woman. She held a dipper of water with bits of maiden’s-foot fern floating in it.

Pa found the page he was looking for. He cleared his throat. He could speak old Illasano, but he was very much out of practice.

" Shrrwall mirol." He intoned. "Harrkg dasa, harrkg mojallan, miuuk ti, ti’as Sugar bilo nen dauhirra wahmerr."

(Honored guests. Beloved friends, beloved family, we today give our child-daughter Sugar to womanhood.)

" Ashla fuegolo malinta. (Ashla be near)

"Ashla fuegolo malinta!" Chanted the crowd.

" Umdayrr ti’as rrip ti’as pial." (Today she sheds her skin)

"Umdayrr ti’as comass a sharrgo!" (Today she feeds the fire!)

"Pil ti’as songerr naberskerr!" (May she be strong as a warrior.)

"Pil ti’as oovak mana." (May her womb be fruitful.)

Shoog rolled her eyes and blushed and the crowd burst out in laughter.

Jimbo parenthesized his mouth with his hands and shouted. "Dun git knocked up tonight!" Jax slapped his knee and brayed.

" Shet-up yew dumb-asses!" Shoog yelled back, stomping her foot. Pa cracked up. He took a deep breath. He had to regain his composure before continuing.

"C’mon Roof! Yew kin do it!" His brother Jethro cried.

"Ahem. . . "Pil ti’as rrrmaeso, kon hoorr’baerbo mah foshzam." (May she summon the wisdoms, the heart-knowing.)

"Chh lengg ti’as sorrvive." (As long as she walks the land.)

"Ashla glorrae." (Ashla blessed)

"Ashla glorrae." Everyone said, solemnly.

Ma was now sobbing. Daizee squeezed her shoulder.

"Well, I reckon that’s it fer the prayer." Pa said, closing the book and carefully putting it back in his pocket. Ma dabbed her streaming eyes with a handkerchief.

"Oh Rufus, that wuz beeyootiful. Absolutely beeyootiful."

Mossy came forward with a torch and set the stacked kindling wood in a pit in front of the stump on fire.

"Y’ ready Twig?" He asked Shoog.

"Ready as all ever be."

The girl-now woman reached out and took her beloved growly-bear from her father. She looked down at the crackling fire and tossed the toy in.

"Ti’a parrile a muart." (" The child is dead")

Hallie washed her sister’s hands with the fern-water.

The crowd cheered and ran forward. Many held dried snake skins in their hands which they threw on Shoog, symbolically shedding her of the remaining spirit of childhood.

"Time fer vittles y’all!’ Daizee clapped her hands and yelled. "This young’in in me is a’ chompin at thee rope!"

Everyone congratulated Shoog and ran to find a place at the main table. The prongnose was pulled out of the fire, as were fifty chookens, a pair of suckling kalgows and a haunch of beef. It wasn’t much meat, but there were plenty of side dishes brought by guests to be sampled.

Shoog watched her bear burn until nothing was left but a pair of melting button eyes. She sighed, jumped off the stump and joined the rest of the throng.

After supper, the shine came out, which meant roughhousing. A handful of guardsmen pledged to stay sober just in case the fun turned into full-blown fighting. Hallie came up to pa, a concerned look on her face.

"Don’t look now, pa. Bubba is head-sparrin’ wid uncle Bocephus. And a few other fellers."

A passel of lasat men—attended by woman with cold rags—rolled around on the ground, holding their bony craniums and groaning.

Rufus groaned as well. His hefty, good-natured nephew loved to smack skulls with other lasats, even when sober, but he often failed to think about the force behind his weight. In this county, he was reigning head-butt champion.

"Time t’ give fat-boy a spankin’. Rufus pounded his palm with his fist.

**********

The afternoon sped like a hooch-runner into the night.

Shoog excused herself from the crowd—and the boys in it who shoved to the front to ask her to dance—and found a place behind the hen-house where she could be alone. She had partaken of a few sips of snowberry wine and was feeling content and happy. Spark flies hovered beneath the branches of the old greenjacket in the yard and over the maize tassels in ma’s garden. Little cubs clambered about on the tire swing and bigger cubs climbed the tree itself, proving their bravery. She had to look twice to determine whose kids they were. It turned out they were Mae’s grandkids. She waved to them and they waved back with their sticky, cake-and-punch fingers. Puggles ambled over, a Lasan Blue Ribbon beer in his hand.

" Sum party, eh Shoog?" He drained the beer can and crushed it against his furry brow.

"That’s gonna hurt in the mornin.’Hey, how’d yew git that anyway? Yew know pa will tan yer tail if he see’s yew wif a hard drank."

"Beer ain’t a hard drank. Mossy said so."

"Ohh. If Mausee told you a turd wuz a turnip, wood yew bile it in water?"

"I reckon I woodnt."

The siblings sat in silence for a few seconds. The sounds of lasats laughing and singing and debating politics merged with the sweet melody of fiddle music. It was emanating from the barn, where lasats were dancing the night away. Some of the brawnier males took their jerkins off and performed frightening warrior dances. Everyone hooped and hollered and begged for more. Most of the males charged with ‘policing the crowd’ were asleep on the lawn or under the table, their drained jars still clasped in their hands.

"Sorry bout yer growly bear." Puggles looked up at his sister with large honest eyes. "Why didn’t yew pick something else fer the far?"

Shoog smiled at her brother and squeezed his hand. "Well, thee whole point of thee ceremony was fer me to give up m’ childhood. It needed to be a might parful symbol, something sad an’ a lil’ painful, because honestly Puggles, growin’ up hain’t all what it’s cracked up to be."

" Yew ain’t happy bout bee’in a woman-lasat?"

Shoog took another sip of her wine. "In one way, yeah, I s’pose so. I have more say in things now. But in another . . . look what I’ll be missin.’"

She pointed to the cubs in the tree, carrying on like they hadn’t a care in the world. Puggles chhuhhed.

"Beein’ a growed up means more ‘sponsibility, but yew ain’t never gotta give up on fun. That prayer pa said, hits a million-years old. It ain’t meant t’ be follered zactly the way he said it."

"Ye think so?"

"Well, dats whut I think! Shit, ahs’ll never let a-dulthood turn me into a borin’ stiff!"

Shoog got out of her chair and gave her little brother a hug. "Yew is smarter than yew give yerself credit fer."

She smiled sweetly. Then she punched him in the stomach.

"Owwww!! What’s that fer?"

"That’s fer them farworks you sent up. Honestly Puggles, Booger? You spelt my name Booger?"

Puggles gripped his belly. "Errybody else thunk is wuz funny!"

"Yeah I bet they did!" She pulled his sparse beard. He yanked her hair. They started to wrestle.

Ma and pa stood at a distance. " Yew see that Sadie? Sum things never change."

"I swear to the Bogan, ifffen she gits that dress mussed up, I’ll snatch her head bald."

Rufus turned Sadie toward him and embraced her. A devilish smile split his face.

"Why Rufus, what’s gotten into yew?"

" I wuz jus’ thinkin,’ How’s about we talk more about that strapless dress you is plannin’ to buy?"

-Finito-

#lasat #my characters #writing practice

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