//------------------------------// // 2. Frankly being Frank // Story: Catherine the Great // by Scarheart //------------------------------// Edited by DJ_Neon_Lights. Frank awoke to the sounds of buzzing. His memory was fuzzy, filled with nightmarish images of dark figures with glowing eyes and sharp fangs. Recalling the disturbance in his daughter’s room was the easy part. Opening the door and flipping the light switch and seeing monsters had ended in darkness. A hiccup of consciousness was another bad dream. Glowing eyes and smiling fangs. He shuddered and wondered if he should cut back on drinking. Or was his stomach telling him to lay off on the starches?     The man groaned, rolling on his side as he became aware of his surroundings. He was laying on the couch. Frank could not remember how he came to find himself on the sofa. It was a comfortable thing. The cushions were broken in just right and the armrests were padded to allow for a lazy afternoon of watching sports with a bowl of popcorn on his stomach. Yet, he kept his eyes shut as he allowed his mind to adjust to where he was. His mental logic processes went back, trying to piece together the series of events which had placed him in the living room.     There was a buzzing sound. The four year military veteran and independent contractor for carpentry regarded the sound, wondering if someone was using some sort of newer model electric saw. His eyes flew open as an image of his daughter playing in his power tools came to mind. He found Beatrice sitting in her chair next to him, her hand in his. Instinct told him to sit up, but his wife pressed a hand firmly down on his chest. Her blue eyes met his greens and she heaved a sigh of relief.     She gave his hand a squeeze. “You’re awake!”     Bleary eyed, he asked, “What happened?”     “You fainted, honey.” Her eyes flicked up and around nervously before settling back on him. The buzzing stopped abruptly and the room seemed to grow still.     “Fainted?”     “Are you okay, Daddy?” Frank could hear his daughter. “Mommy, is Daddy going to be okay?” She sounded worried. What a sweet little girl!     What happened to make him faint? No matter what he tried to recall, there was nothing but shadows with fangs and...buzzing?     “Frank, please get up and don’t faint again,” his wife pleaded. There was also urgency in her voice. “I’m barely holding it together. There are… monsters in the house.”     Monsters? Frank blinked, unable to comprehend as he wrapped his mind around what was currently going on with his wife’s distress. His recollection slowly undimmed, became brighter. The shadows became more defined in his memory. Slowly, he became aware of something else in the living room. A lot of something elses.     “The sleeper has awakened,” intoned a buzzing voice. Frank thought someone was talking through a microphone with a slight sound distortion in it.     “Wesley, give the poor guy some air.”     There was a sigh. An inhuman sigh and it was above Frank’s head. He turned his head towards the ceiling and saw something dangling from it. It was large, the size of an average dog. It had translucent wings and they flitted restlessly as the owner had glowing solid blue eyes staring down at him, unblinking.     “Don’t you dare faint again, Franklin Benjamin Thomas!”     The man swore even as panic welled up within him. Beatrice had both of her hands on his chest and shoulders, trying to calm him down with a reassuring voice. His legs kicked as he stared in horror at the thing grinning down at him.     “What is that?!” he screamed, pointing a finger at the black winged monster. The monster laid its ears back and jerked its head away from the offending digit.     “I’m a changeling!” it snapped as if scolding a child bereft of common sense. “My name is Wesley!”     “It’s okay, Daddy,” chirped Catherine happily, the corners of her mouth upturned in a wild grin. “I’m his queen!”     “Cathy!” admonished her mother sharply. “You are not the queen of anything, young lady! Your father and I are going to discuss this as soon as he stops panicking.” To her husband, she pleaded, “Please pull yourself together! They’re everywhere and they want our daughter to be their queen!”     “Please, Queen Father, we mean you and your family no harm,” said a new voice filled with concern. “We only wish to be loved and accepted. We are new to your world. We have nowhere else to go. Please, will you not listen to us?”     As the new voice pleaded, Frank’s head whipped towards it. He found his daughter petting a bug... thing. It was a big bug thing. It looked armored and dangerous; a wicked horn growing out of its head. “Cathy, what are you doing with that thing?” If he sounded frightened, it was because he was.     “Petting him, Daddy. Don’t you like Speaker? He’s a nice changeling! They’re all nice changelings!” To show her father just how safe and nice Speaker was, she gave the changeling a hug. The changeling named Speaker squeaked like a rubber ducky.     “Huh?” Frank blinked, shaking his head. “What is going on here? What is all this?” He turned to address the unwanted collective. “Why are you here?”     “Get the hooman some water!”     “Water for the hooman!”     “Agua!”     “Right!”     “Glass? Where are the glasses?”     “Top right cabinet, bottom shelf!”     “Found it!”     There was a yowl, several yelps, a feline hiss of fear and anger, the sound of slamming doors in the kitchen, as well as the clatter of what sounded like silverware upon the floor. A gray and white streak darted briefly in the corner of Frank’s eye. The changelings hopped out of its way or took to the air, hissing at the spitting ball of fur heading for the basement.     “Cat!”     “Kitty!”     “Rat slayer!”     “Meow!”     “I taut I taw a puddy-tat!”     A changeling sneezed somewhere in the group. In the chaos of the family pet streaking through the throng of dog-sized cockroaches, Frank finally began to get the idea his house was full of the things! He sat up, propping himself up on his elbows. Beatrice leaned away from him, allowing him to see every inch of the living room was covered with changelings. They were everywhere, like ladybugs in winter. Every eye seemed to be on him and the man imagined they were holding their collective breath, waiting for him to say or do something. An avalanche of disappointment seemed to hang over them. All he had to do was sneeze.     “Hello Mr. Hooman,” said one of the changelings. It sounded like a female. “My name is Angela. I’m a Virgo. I am sorry our appearance made you faint.” She stood very still and wore a smile that did not reveal her fangs. “We will get you some water. I’m sorry if it’s a little crowded, but there are forty-seven of us in your house. We can’t go outside because we don’t know how your world will react to us.”     “Okay,” the man said dully, his voice a monotone. “Okay...” He could feel his brain still trying to understand and make sense of everything. This day was starting out weird.     “Reggie, do you have that water for Mr. Hooman?”     A glass floated in the air and hovered in front of his face. Frank cried out and shied away from it.     Angela tilted her head towards Beatrice. “Mrs. Hooman, you married a wussy.”     Unafraid, Catherine let go of the changeling she had been holding and slid off the overstuffed chair. Boldly, she seized the floating glass, completely unafraid. “It’s just magic, Daddy. It can’t hurt you! I’m the queen and they can’t hurt you because I’m the queen!”     “We will do no harm to the parents of our chosen queen,” chanted the entirety of the buggy body.     Gingerly, Frank took the glass of water. He warily glared over the throng. “What is it? Are you guys sharing the same brain or something?”     “What do you mean?” Speaker blinked his eyes quickly. Frank mentally noted how large those eyes were. They were cute-ish. “We are brothers and sisters. We are telepathically linked. It is a part of the magic we share. It is through our familial bonds we are linked. I don’t know what it’s like for you humans. The air of this world is very alien to us. Your magic is different.”     “Magic? What magic?”     “We are creatures of magic,” Speaker said. “The magic…” The other changelings nodded in agreement. One of them had to have his head restrained as he bobbed uncontrollably like a bobblehead. A chirp went out. It sounded like some form of thanks. “Charles, contain yourself!”     Frank gulped down his water, some of it dribbling down his chin and onto his chest and lap. His eyes were round saucers. None of this was real, it couldn’t be! He had to be hallucinating. It was college all over again! “Magic isn’t real.”     “Whatever,” dismissed Speaker, as if he had just been insulted. “We came here to find our queen. We traveled from our world to yours because we want to be loved. Mother made it so love would be very difficult in the future for us to get. Us changelings need love. Mother was once our queen. Our queen became greedy. Angela has already explained to your mate. We sang our abbreviated tale. We faced the Pink Bubble of Doom!”     “It tasted like victory!” chirped one of the changelings.     “I dunno, tasted kinda like cinnamon tarts.”     “It was victory for those fleabag ponies!”     “Rupert! Calm yourself! Did you take your medicine?”     “All I need is love!”     “All together now!”     The changelings all chorused, “All we need is love, love! Love is all we need!”     “Oh, God, the Beatles are real!” moaned Frank sullenly. “Which one of you is John?” His wife loved the Beatles.     One holy hoof shot in the air. “Me!” cried out a female changeling. “My name is Jon!”     “I’m going to learn all of your names,” announced Catherine as she stood up on the couch. “Because I am your queen!”     The changelings gave out a cheer. It was an odd, buzzy cheer, complete with stomping hooves from those on the floor.     Frank glared at his wife. “This is your fault.”     Beatrice flinched, her mouth hanging open. “What do you mean this is my fau–Catherine, get your feet off of the couch! You know better, young lady!” She was grabbing for her daughter as she re-addressed her husband. “Again, how is this my fault?”     “The whole princess thing. You encouraged her she could be a princess!” He snorted, throwing his arms in the air. “Look where that got us!” Frank gesticulated wildly at the changelings, who had gone oddly quiet.     “We don’t like princesses,” said Speaker, who was ignored by the parents as they glared at each other. “My queen!” he turned to Catherine, pleading. “Please, say it ain’t so! You can’t become a princess! We need a queen! You must be our queen! We just want to be loved, don’t you see? Please, love us! We need you to love us! We are pitiful without love!”     “Just like Liza Minnelli,” proclaimed Reggie. He plucked the empty glass from Frank’s hand unnoticed. He was on his way to refill it.     The growing argument between husband and wife abruptly died a rather sudden death. “How do you know who Liza Minnelli is?” asked Beatrice in confusion.     “The Enquirer,” said the changelings in one confident voice.     “Inquiring minds want to know!” declared a changeling.     Another replied loudly and proudly, “I want to know!”     “Mother was a lifetime subscriber,” said Speaker, waving off the unrelenting looks of confusion. “But enough about this. We need to discuss crowning Catherine to be our queen. We need the Queen Mother and the Queen Father to be in agreement with this. We will do whatever you need us to do!”     “Except toilets!” cried a voice in the crowd. There was a buzzing of muttered agreement.     “Yes. No toilets. And unlike Discord, we do clean windows!” Angela lifted her head proudly.     “I’m so lost,” muttered Frank. He slumped into the couch. “My life is over. If this is real, then there is no way we can escape scrutiny. We’ll have to go into hiding. We’ll have to move to Canada. Canadians are nice. They’ll take us in.” Helplessly he regarded the changelings, who all had fallen silent again and were staring at him.     “This is why we want to sit down and talk,” soothed Speaker, daring to draw himself closer to the large human. He imagined he was large as the man was easily twice as tall as the changeling. Probably twice as heavy, too. “We have chosen Catherine to be our queen. For us, it is a matter of survival. This is how we must stay alive.”     Again, the changelings broke into a chorus. “Stayin’ alive!” one started.     “Ah-ah-ah-ah, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive!” the others finished.     Angela raised her voice, “Silence you nincompoops!”     Reggie returned with the refilled glass. It had a tiny umbrella in it, as well as a wedge of lime. “Gin and tonic, anyhooman?” he asked politely.     “Anyone,” corrected Speaker absently.     “Anypony.”     “Anyone.”     “Anyling.”     “Anyone!”     “Anybirdy!” Reggie snarled. Both changelings by now were forehead to forehead, their horns crossed and their snoots pressed firmly into each other.     “And then they kissed,” mused Angela before giggling. Catherine began to giggle as well. Reggie and Speaker broke away from each other, hurling icy daggers at their sister.     “Can I keep them? Pleeeeease?” begged Catherine, assuming the needy pout. The changelings noted their chosen queen’s choice of facial expressions and emulated it.     It was the creepiest, cutest thing either man or woman had ever seen.