#turtle tots

When it came to living with four young, curious creatures, Sliver was beginning to discover that any task he would have otherwise considered speedy and simple could come at a much greater expense of his time than he had expected. In today’s case that was taking out the trash.

Much as he would have preferred to avoid taking the turtles out with him, lest they risk human contact long before they were ready, it seemed all the trash cans he owned had made it their mission to overflow all at once. He wouldn’t be able to juggle all of these bags himself, at least not inconspicuously.

Blobboid had volunteered to help, ever eager to please. This and a knowing glance from Sliver had led Griddex to volunteer to help him help; they both recognized Blobboid wouldn’t actually have the strength or reach to carry more than one of the teeming garbage bags, much less heft them up into a dumpster.

In truth his motives were probably more so about the opportunity to set foot outside their home base, however briefly, however surreptitiously. He and his brother were even willing to let Sliver wrestle them into their disguises, the human clothing they so despised (Blobboid for how it clung to his slime, Griddex for its claustrophobic stifling of his growth. Fair complaints, honestly. With both of these powers and their drawbacks, Sliver hated it too.) But to take a few minutes outside, the discomfort was somehow worth it. Even if it was under their father’s supervision, just ducking into the nearby alley and back still felt like an adventure.

If they could find any sort of satisfaction or excitement in a mundane, unsightly, smelly drudgery, more power to them, Sliver mused with resignation, but for his part he was looking forward to having this done as soon as possible.

It should have been easy and uneventful. He dropped his bags off without preamble. To reach the edge of the dumpster, Griddex grew as much as the confines of his clothing would allow, grumbling and squirming viciously against them. A few seams audibly popped around his shoulders as he heaved his portion of the load in and then shot his father a wordless, hopeful look under the brim of the cap pulled low over his face. Sliver offered a pat on the hat for his help, only cursory so as not to let any grime from the work leave smudges or residue, and that would have been the end of it, had Blobboid not piped up with a sudden, startlingly loud gasp.

“Whoa! Look, look at the cool bug!”

Griddex jumped, shrinking back even though he had no idea where said bug was, and Sliver winced, hissing, “Hush, my son!”

“Sorry!” Blobboid stage whispered, though he didn’t look all that sorry with fascination bright in his eyes and noodle arms waving wildly to urge them over. “But look! I never saw a bug that’s super bright green like us!”

“Inconspicuous and entirely normal human boys are not green,” Sliver reminded him cautiously, throwing a glance over his shoulder to be sure no humans were passing by to overhear.

“Oh, yeah! Right, sorry. But I never saw a bug like this, come see!”

“We have done our business here, Blobboid,” he protested as he took Griddex’s hand. “I know this outing was short-lived but we cannot afford to—”

“Come seeeee!” he implored. “For just a second, Papa, look! It’s cool!”

Sliver could have mustered a firmer tone and ordered him over but Blobboid was already dropping into a crouch, hugging his knees to further punctuate the point that he would not be budged until he was indulged. To force the issue would no doubt result in whining, kicking and screaming and that would surely draw unwanted attention.

Stifling a sigh, Sliver gave in, drawing Griddex over for a peek despite the tug against his paw and the scuffing of his feet, equally reluctant. Why his biggest, strongest son was seemingly so squeamish around creatures so much smaller than him, he didn’t know. But the one Blobboid had found was indeed such a bright, inviting green amidst the dull, disgusting grays and browns of the garbage, he couldn’t help but perk up ever so slightly, warily.

“What kinda bug’s that, Papa?” he ventured.

“That is a butterfly—not a bug, in fact, but an insect.” It was perched on a rind of rotten, discarded watermelon, paying them no mind.

“So pretty!” Blobboid cooed, unwrapping one of his arms from his knees to extend a finger.

“Ah-ah! Do not touch it, my son.” The haste with which he chided him had Blobboid swaying back to land with a thump on his butt and Griddex’s fingers digging hard into Sliver’s palm.

“Why not? Is it gonna bite?” he demanded, already hunching back into his shell again.

“No, it has no teeth, pincers or stingers so it is entirely harmless to us—and far too delicate for any poking and prodding. We look with our eyes, not with our sticky fingers, Blobboid, remember?”

“Oh, okay!” He nodded so vigorously, he nearly knocked himself off balance again as he scrambled to reassume his prior position. “Sorry, Mr. Butterfly, I won’t touch! Wait. Papa, is it a Mr. or a Mrs. Butterfly?”

“I do not know. I have not yet made it a priority to study the distinguishing of butterfly genders,” Sliver huffed wryly. And he had no intention to in the future.

“Well, I never saw a girl turtle as bright green as us—”

“You never seen a girl turtle at all,” Griddex scoffed.

“So since you’re super bright green, I think you’re a mister! And you look really cool; you’re almost the exact same green as me! Uh, I mean—as green as I would be if I wasn’t a normal, not-green human boy right now! And you look so soft and fuzzy and cute and I really, really wanna touch,” Blobboid wheedled, rocking forward on his toes, drumming his fingers restlessly. “But I’ll try not to, okay? I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I’m afraid it does not understand anything you are saying, Blobboid. It cannot think on the same level we do,” Sliver pointed out. “And even if it could, I doubt it would have much interest. It is busy eating; we should leave it to its meal.”

“Aww, what? Why?!”

“Because even unmutated creatures would probably prefer to eat undisturbed—”

“No, I mean why’s he eating the trash? You shouldn’t be in the trash, Mr. Butterfly, you don’t deserve that! Doesn’t anybody wanna feed you?” The insect’s only reaction was a momentary flick of its wings—simply idle from Sliver’s perspective but in the eyes of a child who was already unduly worried, it must have looked terribly sluggish and weak. Blobboid bit his lip. “Doesn’t anybody want you?”

Griddex’s grip on Sliver’s paw slid loose, softened by a measure of sympathy as he leaned gingerly out from behind him for a better look.

“He’s just a little guy…”

“Why doesn’t somebody give him real food, Papa?”

“He—It does not belong to anyone as a pet, it must provide for itself. But you must not upset yourself over this, my son,” Sliver hurried to add, though he already knew it was too late now that Blobboid’s eyes were watering. Best he steer him away from this before compassion devolved into full-blown crying. “It seems perfectly content here. If it were not, it probably would have already flown away to look for another food source. It is high time we make our exit too, I think. We have taken a good look at it as you wanted, now let us leave it to its business.”

“But—But we can’t just leave him all alone and hungry with nothing but this!” Blobboid gesticulated madly at the rotten fruit; it was a wonder his swatting didn’t scare the butterfly off in an instant. “That’s yucky, bad trash fruit nobody else would eat! That’s so saaad!”

Oh, dear. His eyes had graduated from watering to welling, his voice was wobbling and before long would no doubt rise to a wail. All of this fuss over so small a thing? But Blobboid had always formed attachments and anthropomorphisms in slightly alarming record time. Sliver admittedly stammered, unsure what he could possibly say to soothe the incoming squall the fastest, only for Griddex to cut in.

“Wait! Wait, Blobby, don’t cry! I got some food for him!” he realized, patting down his coat. “I just remembered, I got a granola bar! One’a the good ones with the mini chocolate chips and everythin’! I-It might be kinda smushed but Mr. Butterfly can have it if he wants! See, here—!”

In his haste to appease his brother and their new little friend, the granola bar flew right out of his hand, falling to dislodge a can at the bottom of the trash heap with a clatter. That load-bearing clatter soon turned into a rattle, crumble and slide, and then Mr. Butterfly’s watermelon was rolling with the avalanche.

Blobboid leapt about a foot in the air with a squawk of horror at the sight, instinctively lunging to grab the little insect despite Sliver’s warning, only to skid and stumble over some wet newspaper litter. He would have faceplanted directly into the scattered shards of some glass bottles had his father not flicked his wrist with a timely burst of antigravity to haul him back upright.

“Careful, Blobboid—!”

“Mr. Butterfly!” he cried, heedless to his own near-miss. “No, oh, no, he’s stuck!”

The insect’s attempt to flee the runaway rind had sent him fluttering right into the would-be net of a grocery bag entangled with some six-pack plastic rings. He flitted recklessly here and there, searching for a gap, and only ended up spiraling further into the bag, vivid green darting aimlessly, fruitlessly in and out of sight.

Sliver’s ears flattened in anticipation and—yes, there was the inevitable wail.

“Papaaa! Now what do we do? We gotta get him out! Do something, do something!”

“I’m sorry,” Griddex babbled, shrinking further and further, kicking his fallen granola bar at the wall as though it were to be punished. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

“If you hadn’t dropped it and knocked everything around—!”

“I was tryin’ to help, I was just gonna—”

“My sons! My sons, please, this panic helps nothing! There is nothing you can do for anyone or anything in such an overemotional state, just stop for a moment and—Would both of you just—Alright, enough!” The sharpness of his own bark surprised even him but finally their clamor stopped short. In the blissful silence, outside of the faint crinkling of the grocery bag with the disoriented beat of tiny wings, Sliver took a deep breath to compose himself.

It just as quickly hitched when an unknown voice called, “Yo, you okay down there?”

A human, drawn by the commotion. Blobboid’s tears froze on his cheeks. Without another thought or a peep, he threw himself around Sliver’s leg, burying his face against him. Griddex just as quickly dove to bear hug his waist, treated to another much more necessary, staying pat on the head when his cap was nearly dislodged by the jostling.

For a long moment the butterfly was the only movement across the whole length of the alley. Sliver eyed the long human shadow cast over them from the entrance, hovering on the brick wall.

“…Yes, fine, thank you,” he announced evenly without looking away, as if the slightest turn of his head or blink of an eye might give away the slew of curses running through his mind, the power thrumming tangibly in his veins, ready to drive the human back if necessary. “I simply brought my sons aside for a moment to address a tantrum in private.”

He could hear the intruder’s wince in his voice. “Ah, gotcha. Good luck with that, man.”

As soon as the scuffling footsteps receded, Blobboid sagged, trembling. Griddex’s shoulders slumped. Sliver’s shoulders remained entirely rigid, the internal curses now giving way to the dark, creeping dread of worst case scenarios. If he hadn’t grit his teeth and born the hassle of their disguises…

He would have thought that close call would be more than enough to redirect Blobboid’s attentions but as soon as the coast was clear, he was already peeking miserably back toward the bag. Unbelievable.

“Enough,” Sliver repeated, low and stern, checking the thought before he could voice it. “Your overreaction could have had very serious consequences just now for all of us. If the pest found its way in there, it can find its own way out again. We are going home now. Do you understand?”

Blobboid swallowed hard, sniffed and scrubbed away the fat, viscous tears clinging to his chin, the back of his hand reabsorbing them. “…Uh-huh. M’sorry, Papa.”

“Thank you. I…apologize as well, for raising my voice. Come along.”

But Sliver had hardly withdrawn a single step before Griddex’s arms tightened around him and there was a halting, cautious mumble muffled between his coat and his fur.

“What was that?”

“…Nothin’. S’ just…” Griddex shuffled uncomfortably, uncertainly, before daring to peek up at him. “You always say we’re s’posed to be heroes someday…that we got made to save lives.”

Ah.

Noting his hesitation, Griddex squeezed a little tighter. “…To do the real important stuff nobody else can. Or will,” he went on tentatively. “Big things or little things, like for big lives and little lives. All the things for all the lives. Right?”

Well. Nice to know he had been listening but didn’t that put him in an unfortunate position? He couldn't exactly say no and renege on his own important teaching. 

The butterfly was in something of an unfortunate position too, wasn’t he?

It, he corrected his train of thought briefly, but under the further pressure of the children’s soft, sad stares…He.

Much as he hated to recall, Sliver was once a small, unassuming, trapped creature for whom the lifeforms towering over him with all the power to help had no pity. How might his life, his turtles’ lives have been different if someone had reached out with mercy?

“…Right. Very well then. Blobboid, go stand near the wall, behind the bag. You will need to slowly and carefully grab the topmost handle—you see it there?—without touching any of the plastic rings tangled around it or your touch might glue them further together.”

“O-Okay!” Again he nearly stumbled over the broken bottles in his rush and relief that there was apparently a plan, that their father was on their side. And again Sliver caught him, opting to simply hover him up and over the trash heap to deposit him in the right place.

“Approach it from the side, Griddex. Crouch down. While Blobboid holds the bag open, you must tear each of those plastic rings in half—in small, controlled motions, one at a time, mind you. Do not jostle the bag about trying to rip them apart all at once. When all of the rings have been torn, pull them slowly away from the bag and be careful not to brush them against your brother’s hand.”

Jerking a nod, Griddex dropped to a crouch, then after a moment of consideration he rocked nervously back on his heels with a preemptive shudder. “’Kay, but what if the bug tries to fly right out at me? I-I don’t want him, eugh, g-goin’ in my nose or mouth or anything.”

“I will hold the watermelon rind afloat at the gap. I am sure it—he will find that far more interesting than you, as he did before.”

The process felt more tense than it had any right to, every second marked by the low stretch, snip and snap of each plastic ring between Griddex’s pinching thumbs and forefingers. He noticeably held his breath as he worked, just in case the butterfly decided to subvert expectations and catch him with an ambush after all.

Sliver found himself holding his breath too, strangely enough—silly enough. Ridiculous, even. Perhaps it was only irrational transference, watching them handle it when he was aware of how many other little turtles had choked, struggled and died in the clutches of plastic such as this. For all that Griddex was the biggest of his sons, he was still so small in the grand scheme of this world, and not as brave yet as he’d like to pretend…and if Blobboid were to get stuck in or to those rings! Or suctioned to the inside of a tangled grocery bag, his cries muffled, all light diffused in those wide, innocent eyes.

Humans and their careless cruelties.

Sliver had to shake the jaw-clenching thought away when he noticed Griddex was done, detangling the limp, broken chain from the grocery bag handle in small but firm tugs. The way was clear.

A decaying watermelon rind was proffered, a striking green butterfly procured, perched on its edge once again. Sliver would have expected him to cling to it but as soon as he was clear of the bag, he leapt into the air (to the united gasps of the turtles, Griddex startled, Blobboid delighted) dancing here and there to test the surety of his freedom. Sliver automatically extended a paw in warning, already foreseeing Blobboid’s temptation to get grabby again now that he was dipping and darting within reach.

Mr. Butterfly took an unexpected turn and twirl, landing on the back of his paw so gracefully, so lightly he could barely feel it through his fur. His dazzling wings flicked once, twice and then he was off again, up, up and away out of the alley to become a mere glimmer, then a blip of shadow against the sun.

“He waved at us!” Blobboid squealed, hopping up and down, shaking the sticky grocery bag off his hand to wave heartily at the sky in return. “He waved right at you, Papa, he was saying thank you! ‘Thank you, thank you! My hero! Bye-bye now!’ Did you see?”

Realistically Sliver could say he had simply fluttered like that in preparation for takeoff. He could remind them that simple insects weren’t capable of such conscious consideration.

But…on the other hand, if they could find any sort of satisfaction or excitement in so small a thing…more power to them. Despite himself, despite realism or reason, he found himself allowing a smile of his own, flexing his paw against a faint lingering tickle before reaching to retake his sons’ hands.