Meep- The Meepening.

Submitted into Contest #101 in response to: Write a story about a character who always repeats themselves.... view prompt

6 comments

Funny Friendship Speculative

"Meep"

I look at the frazzled red haired puppet to my side. "What?"

"Meep." He persists.

"But I have to tell him." I shrug off his suggestion. "I know he's going to get mad but he deserves to know."

"Meep meep?"

"Cause," I pause not really knowing how to answer that question.

"Meep." He rolls his eyes.

"Excuse me?" I look at him offended. "I am not looking for drama."

"Meep." He states blatantly.

"Well. FINE then." I fold my arms, looking away.

I feel the soft plush of his hand caressing my shoulder, and an apologetic Meep is heard.

"Sorry, it's the mood swings." I point to my fattening stomach. "I need a post lunch meal."

"Meep." I feel the understanding in his voice.

Nodding, I guess he's right, "Okay."

----

The next day, I visit my ex-friend in the city.

He's an ex-friend cause he doesn't count. That relationship doesn't count. It's mainly a hook up and we go back to our separate lives, far away from eachother.

But I still think he deserves an explanation as to why I left him so suddenly. We hadn't talked for weeks after things happened. But I know other people would not understand. I'm so scared my ex's explosive temper.

We should get it all out in the open.

What could go wrong, I mean. Either he doesn't talk to me and I don't have to worry about him,

or-

He understand and we'll be friends, then he'll bring me stuff for the baby shower.

It'll be fine.

I knock on the door. My ex-friend answers. His name is Paul by the way. Paul's a tall guy so I'm mainly looking up at him. I immediately forget I originally planned in the car. Sometimes he could be so scary. Better get this out quick.

"Hi." I greet him, "I'm pregnant. It's probably yours. Ok bye."

He grabs my arm before I can leave, looking at me confused and worried.

"Yeah, I was at the gynecologist mostly and well... afraid to tell people."

Paul sighs. I can see the disappointment on his face. He scratches his head, cocking it to the side and raising his brow questioningly.

"Yeah of course, I told him. He's my best friend."

Paul gives an exasperated sigh, annoyed and confused, waving his arms at me.

"Don't... I mean you weren't there holding my hand in the doctor's office. You had a meeting."

He shakes his head, and gesturing me to stop.

"Then what was it like? I said I needed you." I blink away tears. "You could have found out at the office. But no, work is more important than me. When I say I need you- You know I don't say it often and you should have picked up on the signal. You don't even listen to me. I shouldn't have ."

There's a moment, he stopped shaking his head and looking down at the floor. It's not very effective trying to shield stuff from me, I have to look up at him anyway.

Tight lipped, he narrows his eyes at me.

"If that's how you feel..." I turn away but I can still feel his eyes burning through me.

He slams the door.

---

"Meep?"

My favourite red head offers me a chip as he walks out of the kitchen.

"Thanks." I take the food offering.

He sits next to me. "Meep?"

"Nothing."

"Meep." He prods on disbelievingly. He can see right through me, I swear.

"He doesn't want anything to do with me or the baby."

"Meep."

"Yeah, You told me so." I shrug knowing he never misses the opportunity to be right.

"Meep meeping. Meepity meep."

"I know. That's what I said." I eat the chip, then reaches to pry out the bag he's clutching way too tightly. "Anyway, now I don't have anyone else to tell."

"Meep?"

"Nah."

"Meep meep."

I laugh humorlessly, "I agree."

There's a knock at the door.

"Meep." He gets up and heads off to the answer it.

A few seconds later, I hear the words I've been dreading.

"Meep!"

My heart skips a beat as chills run down my spine.

---

"Paul what are you doing here?" I look at him in shock. He could go crazy any moment.

Paul looks at me with pleading eyes. He must be drunk.

"You made your feelings perfectly clear." I look at the floor, not wanting him to see me cry. "You don't have to be a part of anything. It's fine."

Paul nods.

"What are you saying?"

He shrugs, then runs his hands through his hair.

"Don't toy with my feelings like this. It's not good for the baby." I place my hands on my tummy protectively, getting angrier by the second. I can't believe he's so insensitive to me.

Paul sighs and waves his arms frustrated.

"Meep." He interjects, this shuts Paul up. They glare at eachother for an extended period of time.

I hug my self as I watch Paul exit the house.

He's not coming back.

The door shuts behind him.

I barely register the soft meep to fill the silence. Nothing will fix it.

"I'm going to take a nap..." I whisper walking slowly to the direction of my room.

I can feel the worried look of my best friend as I creep awake.

---

NEW P.O.V

It's night.

Paul is sleeping soundly in his bed. Probably passed out from his 15th beer. Looking over him is not an angel, but a red-haired puppet. His eyes are fixated on the unconscious man in front of him.

"Meep meep." He whispers, caressing the back of the mound of flesh.

"Meep." He shakes his head and pads off the kitchen.

A few moments later, he returns with a knife. It glistens in the moonlight through the window. Laying it down on the bed cause he can only carry one thing at a time, he walks out of the door and returns with a mound of blue cheese and a clip on his nose. It's protecting him from the smell of everything, including the blue cheese.

---

It's morning now.

Well mid-day.

Paul is getting out of his bed, he whiffs the scent of something unfamiliar but it doesn't faze him.

He's really late for work but some money is better than no money.

He hops into the shower for a quick bath, rubbing himself with the small block of soap he has to change. It's texture is weird, he looks at the crumpling soap block in his palm.

Confused, he pushes his hand out of the shower to get another soap bar but he just keeps getting another bar of the crumply weird smelling soap.

He rinses himself and gets out of the shower, brushing his teeth in the sink but that feels weird as well. His toothpaste is different.

The alcohol must have finally wrecked his taste buds.

Walking back into his room, he goes over to the closet. Pulling on a suit of clothes, he looks around for a pair of socks but he has none. He scratches at his neck.

No one would know.

He moves to to huge window where he kicked off his shoes the last time and slides his feet in.

His toes are greeted by the slish slosh of melted cheese. He freaks out, hopping on one leg and he feels his throat tightening. Falling backward, he slams into the window cracking it with his skull before falling to the floor of his room.

---

Two days later.

I look at my phone and there on my Facebook feed was the most shocking sight to see.

Paul had an allergic attack and died on the floor of his room.

Turning to my favourite red head, I show him with mixture of sadness and shock.

With a shrug, he says 'Meep.'

I knew he didn't like Paul but...

What was that reaction?

July 07, 2021 02:08

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6 comments

Jiles Ramjattan
14:17 Apr 14, 2022

Idk this story gives me a feeling that the protag is schizophrenic and beaker is just a figment of her imagination that helps her cope with the pregnancy and break up with her ex

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Elizabeth Maxson
14:13 Jul 15, 2021

Your title rocked! I was chuckling and intrigued from there on! This is a interestingly dark exploration of three very different characters. I appreciated the repetition of the prompt in the puppet's constant responses. It added an eerie vibe throughout the story. I did wonder why Paul didn't have a reaction to the puppet since they did have an encounter. I also wondered about the reality of the puppet. Was it only in the narrator's mind or was the puppet real? Either way works, but maybe there could be more of a hint as to which way ...

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18:32 Jul 15, 2021

Nobody questions the puppets in Sesame street and the Muppets. I thought I could get away with it too. Darn.

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Elizabeth Maxson
20:30 Jul 15, 2021

Oh, I totally think the Elmo meets Beeker character works. However, the idea that it could be in the narrator's head is compelling. What if the narrator's conscience takes the forms of a puppet or puppets from her childhood? It shows a disturbed yet childish mind that allows for more sympathy and darkness to be included.

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Rie Sanders
19:35 Jul 08, 2021

So, I'm reading this and thinking it's funny in a bit of a dark way - the puppet talks but the boyfriend doesn't, and the protagonist can read both their minds, she has a serious situation (pg) and she's a little bit off... then bam, the creepy ending. I was oohing out loud, as if I just heard a good ghost story. Very imaginative!

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12:53 Jul 07, 2021

Just... Someone should just take my keyboard away.

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