Learning to Communicate

[Author's Note: This is an alternate universe fanfiction containing the likeness of members of My Chemical Romance. I do not own them, nor am I affliated with them. That said, my other note is that this tale is rather bizarre and contains a high element of fantasy (which is very rare that I write), but the inspiration got to me. Please review if read, because I am unsure of continuing with this. Thank you.]

This was the third time I had been to the shelter. It had been my brother's idea originally, but I guess it had stuck with me. Of course, Mikey didn't usually start pointing out how lonely he thought I was. I had just kind of stared at him. "No, I mean it Gerard. You need something to occupy yourself with. Or someone. You know, someone to communicate with."

Michael lives with his wife, Anna, not far from me. I always end up eating dinner there on the weekends. Anna's pregnant now, so the three of us started painting a nursery. So far, we as a collective have switched from green to light blue to pale yellow walls. Even though I know they don't mind, I was beginning to feel like I was suddenly a third parent. I don't want that. I don't want to intrude on their life together. If I had say something, Mikey would just say I was being silly.

The first time I had come to the shelter, he had brought me. "Just look at them," he had said. I didn't want to. Years ago, science had started mixing human DNA with various animals. I was not a science person, so I don't know why. The whole thing got out of hand though, and accidently (at least, I choose to believe it was accidental), humans had created a sub-human race. In short, freaks. I used to remember watching cartoons with anthropomorphic characters, only now it was real in a sense. It was also apparently very marketable. The science was watered down and perfected, customized, if you will. Sub-humans were suddenly very popular pets.

We both had walked in without knowing what to expect. This kind of thing wasn't very common in New Jersey, not like in huge cities like L.A. and New York. A woman's whose nametag read "Marla" showed us in. It was like a dog pound, only the huddling creatures were humans. Er, sub-humans. Mikey paused to look at a girl with long brown hair, whiskers and mouse ears. "Hi," he said loudly. No response. "Oh no hun, they can't talk to you. Well, not like you and I are talkin'," said Marla, waving a hand vaguely.

He frowned. "That's not very fun. You can't talk to it."

"Oh no," Marla continued. "You learn to communicate though, sometimes easily. They can understand you perfectly, but they don't have voices of their own. Only mews, whines, barks....you know." I felt overwhelmed a bit. Was this really for me? As I thought about it, one caught my eye. It was not in a corner like the rest, but chewing on it's fingernails, it's face pressed into the cagebars hopefully. I slid over. We blinked at one another. Out of a shaggy mess of brown hair, his ears twitched. They were orange in colour, little tufts of white hair sticking off the ends. My eyes ran over his cage tag. Male. Approximately between 20-25. Crossbred with red fox.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a peanut butter cup. I ate those things like they were air I was breathing. Maybe that's why I had...well, I was pudgy. And usually utterly depressed. The chocolate made me happy. I unwrapped it and tossed it in. He grabbed it and ate it without question. He twitched from head to tail, its bushy orange fur prickling down to the white tip. I threw in another. He ate this one before it even hit the ground. I had a new admirer. And a new fan of peanut butter cups.

Here I was, back again by myself. I sighed and looked down. He was curled up in a shredded blanket, his ears dropped to each side as he snoozed. "This one," I said. Marla took his tag from his cage and walked off the get someone to start filing adoption papers. At the sound of my voice, his ears perked and he sat up. He smiled. I didn't. He probably only liked me because he associated me with food. I was taking my chances on Male- 22-25- red fox though. He looked lonely. I was lonely. This was crazy.

They let him out after a moment. He was dressed in a plain white shirt and loose pants that reminded me of hospital scrubs. It suddenly dawned on me how little I knew about these....people. "Um, I was wondering...do I have to, you know, dress him?" I asked Marla. She shook her head, walking around a counter.

"No, no, he can dress himself, just give him the clothes. And make sure if you buy him normal stuff, you cut a hole for his tail." I looked. He had a tail. I knew this already, but hearing it aloud was still strange. Marla pulled a huge book out from the counter. "This will certainly help you Mr. Way," she said, handing it to me. I read the title. Adopting a Sub-Human. A giant rule book for my new pet. She pulled out a second. A book all about red foxes specifically. She was scribbling something down when my cell phone rang.

"Hello?" I said, answering. He had sat down on the floor by now, chewing his nails again and rocking back and forth.

"Hey Gee," came Mikey's voice. "We came back from the docs. Anna and baby lookin' good. What do you think of the name Gigi?"

"That's a weird name. Sounds like a hooker," I said. Marla cleared her throat. "These are his registration papers. Please sign," she said, holding out a pen to me. I started signing all the lines she was pointing to. Mikey gave me another option. "Anna said maybe Nicole for a girl, but I still think it's going to be a boy." I nodded, 'hmm'ing into the phone. My adoptee had flopped over and was licking his arm up and down. Either he found it fun or hadn't figured out he had nothing to groom there.

"All of his shots are up to date, so don't worry about that for awhile. He'll still need to come back in a week for a check up," Marla was saying. I signed for this too and put the vet's card in my pocket.

"What about Gregory?" asked Mikey.

"Too formal," I said.

"Um, Gabriel?"

"Too much religious undertone," I said. Marla held out more papers. "These are his legal documents including his sub-social, his birth certificate, and his breeder's certification papers."

"Okay, thanks," I said, taking these as well.

"And his name?" asked Marla.

"Francis?" said Mikey.

"Francis?" I repeated. "That's a terrible name."

"Francis it is then. Francis Way," went Marla.

"Huh?" I said, looking at her. She beamed. "Frankie is what we call our neighbor's boy." I looked at the figure on the floor. He was flicking my shoelace back and forth. "Yes...Frankie," I said vaguely. "What?" asked Mikey. I told him I'd call him back and hung up without his reply.

We stepped outside the shelter after awhile, my giant pet manual under one arm and the other holding the door for Frankie to follow through. He had a funny walk and small skipping way of moving around. I could see the top of his head. He was shorter than me. Careful of his tail, I let the door close and he followed me to my car, stepping on my heels. I opened the passenger door. He stood. I sighed, setting the books on the hood and taking him by the arm, sitting him in the car with some diffaculty. I buckled him in while he squirmed around, pulling his knees under him. I finally shut the door, grabbed the books with all his papers inside, and got in on the drivers side. I opened the windows. He stuck his chin out the window, leaning on the door happily. The wind made all the little white hairs on their tips fuzz out. The ride home was silent. I had tried to tune the radio, but everytime I hit a button, he would hit one too. He became fascinated with chewing on his seatbelt so I left him to it. I pulled out my cell phone at a stop light.

"Mikey?"

"Hi Gerard!" Anna. I could picture her auburn hair and big smile.

"What are you doing?"

"I made casserole," she said in a sing-song voice that meant she wanted me to come to dinner. I smiled. "Do you think you and Mikey could come over tonight?" I asked.

"Of course. I'll just put some foil on this," she said, and in the background I could hear rustling. "What's the occasion?" she mused back to me.

I looked at Frankie. He was still battling his seatbelt. Only now it had a huge wet spot. "I want you to meet someone," I said vaguely.