Manticore and a Half

If there is a hell, I imagine it's a lot like Mondays. Every week, without respite, this torture visits me and everyone on this bus. The man standing next to me smells like rotten bananas. The woman in front of me is liberating some new form of life from her left nostril, and a child nearly puked on my shoes on the walk here.

I might be in a sour mood, but this Monday has been kind and given my unfortunate curiosity something to focus on other than the delightful sights and sounds of a crowded bus.

Further toward the back of the bus, a tall manticore was standing up, wings pulled in and trying her very best to look unremarkable, except for one thing: she was wearing a bulky trenchcoat in the middle of summer.

I know it's rude to stare, and I've certainly seen stranger things in the city, but... why? She had plenty of mane puffing up around her collar, and her arms seemed covered as well, so she couldn't've been cold. She kept her fiery orange hair tight in a bun behind her head with two loose slivers hanging off her shoulders. A near-glowing red swallowed up her paws and grew darker near her elbows, but large orange spots begin to take over until reaching her tufts of that same orange. Though a bit taller than me, I couldn't find anything physically remarkable about her... except her hair. A redhead. My weakness. God, why did she have to be a redhead?

What confounded me the most to the point of frustration was that no one else was so much as glimpsing at her. Like they were all in on some knowledge lost on me. Surely trenchcoats hadn't become some fashion statement I'd completely missed out on.

So distracted was I that I'd failed to notice at some point the manticore had started staring back at me. We met eyes and hers sent me a silent scoff before she turned around, showing me her back this time.

What was with that look? It wasn't like I was the weirdo here.

The bus hissed and shook as if trying to shake off its passengers. My stop. I shot the manticore one last glance before stepping off the bus and starting on my way to work.

"Why were you staring at me?"

I spun around and saw the weirdo had gotten off with me.

"You look weird."

Ok, that did not come out right at all.

"'I look weird'? How about you keep that crap to yourself?"

"You're wearing a trenchcoat when it's eighty degrees out."

She stepped closer to me. "And you're wearing a haircut suited for someone half your age."

Since when did buzzcuts go out of style? "My hair is perfectly fine! You're the strange one here."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"Whatever!" she huffed, stepping into my personal space. "Leave me alone on the bus, hear me?"

"I didn't even do anything!"

"You were ogling me, don't trying to deny it!"

"I was staring, not ogling, at it was at your coat, not you."

"Hey." She seized the scruff of my shirt. "Back off."

"Geez, fine."

Fluttering her wings, she turned around and stomped off. What a short fuse. I could only hope she didn't make a routine of taking the same bus.

I looked down at my watch and groaned. The only thing worse than Monday was being late on a Monday. I'd have to jog to work to make it on time. I curled my upper lip at the manticore and left, feeling sorry for whoever ran into her next.

**

She was there again.

I made a point of facing my entire body in the opposite direction. I don't know why she chose to sit directly across from me, but hell if I was going to say something. I scooted away, but I didn't want to move too far. Didn't want her thinking I was avoiding her on purpose, that would probably prompt another hissy fit.

Maybe it was just my imagination, but I got the feeling everyone else wanted to be as far away from her as possible. The lady next to me kept glancing back at the manticore, the man sitting against the wall to my side kept fidgeting in his seat, and if my nose wasn't mistaken, that manticore hadn't cleaned her trenchcoat in a while, but I knew better than to comment.

Staring at the window was much more appealing than caring about that manticore.

But why the trenchcoat? Surely she could've answered that at least. I grit my teeth. No, Kevin, it wasn't worth it. Stop thinking about it. She'll just freak out on you again. Tomorrow she might not even be on this bus. Two days in a row wasn't habit, could've been an appointment, or family. All you have to do is ignore her.

So I did.

**

A week later, I was forced to confront the reality that she wasn't going away.

Every day, that stupid trenchcoat. Those shifty looks around the bus like people were out to get her. The way her mane bulged out of her coat like she was puffing herself up. Her fiery hair tied up neat in the back except for those two streaks she let down her shoulders. Those sharp crimson eyes drinking in everything they touched. My nose told me she'd cleaned her coat a couple days ago at least.

Who knew why she didn't fly to wherever she wanted to go. Those wings seemed healthy enough. And that coat definitely wasn't for warmth, I'd seen her sweating in it.

Perhaps she was troubled. Mentally unstable. That would explain why she was so eager to nag me. Yes, nagging, that's what it was. It's not my fault I stared at her, it was simple curiosity! She had no right to get mad over such a simple thing.

My body jerked to the side as the bus came to a stop and the hiss of hydraulics opened up the door. My stop. As the bus hissed and the doors closed, my heart began to beat loud enough for me to hear it. I swallowed a lump in my throat and stepped off, waiting for the sounds of footsteps behind me, busying myself with my watch

And when the footsteps began to fade, I turned around and followed.

I don't know why I did it, exactly. Just one moment I was standing still and the next I was walking the wrong direction with that manticore in my sights. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I kept one eye on her and the other on my surroundings. Now that I thought about it, I'd never walked down this way, even though it was right here.

There were all sorts of food joints, niche clothing outlets, even a few bookstores. Not too many people walking about, but enough that I brushed shoulders occasionally. Instead of the reeking garbage like near my workplace, the place smelled like food. The medley of restaurants gave birth to some sort of weird Italian dish mixed with Thai or something. A cozy, subdued part of the city.

The manticore turned off into an alley between two buildings. Huh. Maybe she was going around the back of a building or taking a shortcut. I approached the alley cautiously, as to avoid her eyesight in case she'd stopped for some reason, but when I got there, it turned out she was continuing on as normal.

As I got further into the alley, I could hear the slaps of wet paws in puddles. I looked up and saw there was some rain runoff from the roofs puddled down here. The view was pretty cool actually. I'd never looked up in an alley before. If you pictured it, you could see the sky as the road and the buildings being upside-down and you were the one walking on the sky. Now that would be—

Shattering any sense of pride I might have had, I yelped like a little girl once more when a paw lashed out, seized my chest, and yanked me to the side of the alley behind some dumpsters. I grunted as I hit the brick wall and scrambled to keep from losing my balance. Standing before me, arms crossed, was the very monster I'd been tracking.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

I brushed myself off and stood up straight. "I was walking."

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure that's all you were doing. Why were you walking here, exactly? You never come this way."

"How do you know?"

"I... It's not hard to tell which direction you walk from the bus stop, and this is in the opposite direction."

"That doesn't mean I never come this way."

"Now you're being a smartass." She stepped forward and pushed me back into the wall. "Why are you here?"

"You don't have to push me, you know."

"Why."

My hands were sweating in my pockets. "I just, you know, I was wandering around."

"You were following me."

"And you were being obnoxious!"

"What?"

"I look at you one time and then you chase me off the bus and harass me. Who does that? There's no way you can think that a furred monstergirl wearing a huge coat in the summer is even remotely normal and I was just curious about it!"

Her expression twisted one way and another between anger and confusion. "What? Are you talking about last week when I started to take the bus?"

"Yes!"

"I'm sorry if I'm a little too different for you, buzzcut, but that doesn't give you permission to molest me with your eyes!" Her paw pressed harder into my chest. "Neither does it mean you can follow me around!"

"I'm sorry, when did they make curiosity illegal?"

"This isn't simple curiosity! It's stalking!"

"Really, I follow you one time and that's—"

"So you were following me!"

"Yes, okay, fine, I was following you! I just... I have to know and you weren't giving me any answers."

"Know what?"

"Why you're wearing that coat."

She looked down at her coat then back to me. "It's really bugging you that much?"

"I don't know, maybe? Yes?"

"Make up your mind!"

"Yes, it is bugging me that much!"

Her arms went slack and she slouched, shaking her head as she stared at me. "What is wrong with you that you care so much?"

"Are you going to tell me or not?"

"I don't know. I'm trying to figure out if I'm crazy for considering it instead of just kicking your ass."

"How can I convince you?"

She tapped her chin in thought. "Alright, how about this. You tell me what exactly made you so curious and also promise to leave this alone after our conversation. That means no more stalking."

"It was one time!"

"No. Stalking."

"You know what? Fine. Fine, if you'll answer my question, I'll do it."

She finally gave me some room. Crossing her arms, she smirked at me and said, "Alright then, out with it."

I scratched my neck and looked away. Oh, god, how did I let it come to this? "I have... a thing... for redheads."

The smirk flickered and her arms went slack. "What?"

As if saying it once wasn't hard enough. "I have a thing for redheads!"

I kept my eyes locked on the dumpster beside me, waiting for her reaction. My guess was it'd be somewhere between a punch and a yell.

"Of course it's that simple." She sighed. "Leave it to a man to do something this stupid for a fetish."

"It's not a fetish, just a preference." I turned to her and was surprised to find she wasn't glaring. Amused, in fact.

"I guess I can let it slide. If you'd tried to make something up I would've punched you for it."

"Gee, thanks. Now it's your turn."

She started to undo one of the buttons on her trenchcoat, then stopped and looked me up and down, eyes full of intent and drinking in every inch. Ho boy. It was 'that' look. I've seen 'that' look before from monstergirls.

"You know what? I have a better idea." Her paws left the button. "Give me your number."

"Huh?"

"And your name. I still don't know what to call you."

"Why?"

"Because I want to call you after work today."

"Okaaay." I leveled my gaze at her. "What's going on here?"

"Surely you've heard of a booty call, right?"

"Wh— what the hell? A minute ago you were about to punch me!"

"If we're both being completely honest, I have a thing for chubby guys with short hair."

"I am not chubby!"

She squeezed the flab around my waist. "What's this, then?"

"It's... a work in progress!" I smacked her paw away.

"Whatever you say. Are you going to give me your name and phone number or not? Because I'm not exactly brimming with patience."

"You haven't told me why you wear the coat, yet."

"If you give me your number, I will show you why. Tonight."

My hands squeezed into fists so tight I could feel my fingernails biting my palms. So many reasons why I should just spit in her face and leave right here. And the way she was looking down at me, arms crossed, weight shifted to one side with a look of half-amusement, half-impatience like the very existence of me was sufferable.

"Fine." I extended my hand. "Kevin."

Her paw enveloped my hand and gave it a firm shake. "Jenna."

What can I say? I have a thing for redheads.

**

I didn't even try to go to work that day.

My phone glowed in my lap, silently asking if I was going to turn it off or not. I mean, Jenna was an ornery, in-your-face, bullheaded monster. It's not like we'd become best friends or anything. I didn't understand her motivation, either. She said she had a thing for chubby guys—which I am NOT—and guys with short hair, but that hardly seemed enough for the 180 she pulled.

Then again, I'd kinda done the exact same.

I started when the phone buzzed in my lap and watched it bounce off the couch toward the floor. With catlike reflexes, I snatched at the phone, whiffing and tossing my balance enough to make me flop over. I had a great view of my phone hitting the floor, though. Grabbing my phone, I glared at the incoming call screen a moment before picking up.

"Hello?"

"Huh. You answered. Quicker than I figured, too."

"I'm good with phones."

"Sure you are. Do you know where 63rd and Greensdale is?"

"Ummm," I tapped my cheek as I worked out a mental map. "Yeah, I think so."

"Good. Northwest corner, two houses up, it's brown on the outside. 811. There should be parking on the side of the street if you've got a car. See you soon."

"Hey, I haven't even told you—"

Guh. She'd hung up on me. Was there room in that head for anyone else but her? Whatever. I'd dealt with worse.

Fifty minutes later, I stepped off the bus not a block from her place. Now that I knew the route, I could understand why she chose my particular bus in the morning... but that still didn't mean I was condoning her behaviour.

I walked down a row of nearly-identical houses, all smushed up against each other, two small stories and not all that deep. Just close enough to the city for a reasonable commute and decent rent. Bigger than my place too, not that it mattered. I wonder how much she makes?

The boring shade of brown of her house looked like black at this time of night, but it stuck out against the blue and yellow on either side. A fiery red like her hair would've fit in better, I think. I pulled at my collar, took a deep breath, and knocked.

A tumbling of footsteps came from within, the light behind the peephole disappeared, and the door opened up. There Jenna was, in all her glory, just sweatpants and a casual t-shirt. Her pale skin looked nice against the crimson and orange of her fur, and the way her hair flowed over her shoulders and down past her mane made her look like, well, like she was just another manticore. I couldn't make much else out given the huge blanket draped over her shoulders and wrapped around her front.

Those deep red eyes reached down to my toes and back up to my face. When her lower lip disappeared into her mouth for a moment, I felt the first stirs of something primal within me. That intentioned stare ended with a bemused smile.

"Come on in, Kevin. I thought you'd struggle to get here for another ten minutes at least."

"I've taken the bus for years. Do you really think I'd have a hard time with a slightly different route?"

"You never know." She started walking toward the back of the house. "I'm going to grab the food. Living room's on your right."

I took a step in and closed the door behind me. The entry hall, which reached all the way to the back of the house, was decorated with pictures of food and restaurants. Maybe she worked at a restaurant or something.

Instead of going straight to the living room, I found myself creeping down the entry hall, wondering if I could get a peek at her kitchen.

And it did, sort of. When I finally got a glimpse inside, I didn't see fancy pots or stoves or spice racks, but rather a whirl of activity centered around a single manticore. She was busy with something, though I couldn't make out much of what as her back was to me and that blanket billowed out. Even then, I could tell something was up. The movement under her blanket made it look like there was something else there, though I couldn't tell what.

The moment the smell hit my nose, my mouth started watering. I hadn't realized how hungry I was. I watched for a few silent moments before one of her movements spooked me into backing off and walking to the living room like she first suggested.

I stood in the middle of the room, looking around, trying to figure out what to do with myself. She didn't have much furniture, but there was enough to entertain a couple guests. More pictures, though this time focused on buildings instead of food, a fake fireplace, a cozy couch and a recliner. I considered the recliner, but she might not appreciate the obvious attempt to keep distance between us. After taking seat on the couch, I rattled off the first thing that came to mind, speaking loud enough for her to hear in the kitchen.

"You seem pretty relaxed with all this."

"Why shouldn't I be? It's my house."

"Do you have strange men over often?"

"Hardly ever."

"Should I feel lucky, then?"

"I'd say so."

I spun to the doorway, where her voice now came from. The blanket was gone, exposing the casual wear underneath and instantly answering the question I'd come here for.

Jenna had six arms.

Now without the coat, I could make out where the light red fur on her paw turned to a deeper crimson up her forearms, which gave way to thicker and thicker splotches of burnt orange. The fur looked rather fluffy, though not so pristinely-kept with bulges and stray hairs here and there. She moved all six arms without trouble.

In a fantastic show of aplomb, I gaped at her. Hard. My jaw hung open wide, giving the manticore a wonderful view of uvula for a solid ten seconds before she decided to walk the rest of the way in the room. Her movement snapped me out of my unparalleled shock, allowing me to notice what was in her paws.

She had a plate full of a generous pile of something in two paws and in two others she had drinks. She set everything down on the coffee table and eased herself into the couch next to me, then angled herself so she could rest her feet on the coffee table.

From behind her drink she said, "It's rude to stare, you know."

"I, uh, well, more, it's I don't know what else to do."

"Let me go through all the usual questions, then. No, I don't know exactly why I got them, I was only ever told it was some weird birth defect. Yes, they're all perfectly functional. Yes, I can get by just fine with four extra arms. They're is helpful at times, but a burden at others. No, I can't detach them."

"Wait, detach them? People really ask that?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Where do you find clothes? With the extra sleeves, I mean."

"Same place scylla and arachne go."

"Oh. I guess that makes sense."

She took another sip of her drink. "You're a weird one."

"Wh— you just revealed you have six arms and I'm the weird one!?"

"Yeah. No one's ever asked about my clothes before. I have a feeling your curiosity gets you into trouble with some regularity."

"Maybe." I was working on it, though.

We stared at each other in silence.

"You should have something to eat and drink," she said, grabbing one of the pieces of food off the tray. It looked like a large roll, steam wafting off the top.

"What is that?" I said, pointing at the food.

"Pork and ham baked into a roll with some spices. Not a complete meal, but it'll do." She'd already grabbed one and taken a big bite out of it. I followed suit, albeit with caution.

"These are pretty good. Do you have a name for them?"

"Ball stuffers."