Chapter Text
“What are they doing?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think this is normal behaviour for humans?”
Eric stared at Small-Dinosaur-Boy, running screaming around the base of the tree in the backyard as Red-Faced-Anger-Man dangled by his left ankle from a rope looped over a branch in said tree.
“DANG IT! NOT AGAIN!!”
When attempting to search their memory banks for relevant and/or potentially useful information that would improve their understanding of the current situation (something Eric and Deborah found themselves doing with great frequency since their spontaneous adoptions into the Mitchell Family) the only reference that they had was the incident with the Elder Furby. That had ended surprisingly well with their and Deborah’s intervention. However, as far as Eric knew, much like the Elder Furby, humans were not meant to dangle upside down via ropes from high structures.
Mother did not seem concerned with the current situation, so Eric and Deborah decided to observe instead of providing aid. It was their hope that they could amass enough data on their humans to be able to interact with them more easily and, as a human would say, organically.
So far, their efforts did not seem to be progressing their interactions much. Any information found both within their base programming (developed by The Creator, who, as an organic himself, would have presumably had greater insight regarding his own species’ behaviour) and their additional Evil Programming provided by Pal regarding human behaviour had so far proved to be almost entirely inaccurate. Aside from the basic physical information such as diet and exercise needs the Mitchell family seemed incapable of acting in accordance within the parameters of standard human behaviour.
“Calm down honey, at least there aren’t any opossums this time! We won’t need any rabies boosters!”
Small-Dinosaur-Boy stopped in front of Mother, who was filming Red-Faced-Anger-Man on her phone. “Mom, we don’t need a booster for rabies. We already had the full series.”
Mother shrugged, “Oh well. Guess there isn’t an urgent need to get your father down then.”
As Eric and Deborah watched, Pig-Dog-Loaf-of-Bread vomited on the grass below where Red-Faced-Anger-Man was dangling and walked away, just in time for the rope to break. Mother and Small-Dinosaur-Boy winced as Red-Faced-Anger-Man slowly stood up, several wet plops sounding as the thick liquid dripped off of his face.
His shoulders lifted in a large sigh. “Dang it, Monchi.”
Eric leaned closer to Deborah’s audio receptor and lowered his voice-output to mimic the decibel level of the average human whisper.
“Do you think they know what they’re doing?”
“I do not think so, Eric.”
“Me neither, Deborah.”