Chapter 05.0 - Trash

Zorana's morning was always tamer than the previous night, emptying the trash. The first of the 'trash' that she collected was what she kept in her room. Her all-natural silk bags were the average size and shape of a human body. She could easily carry three of these in one hand as the contents were drier than the husk of a cicada. Being a Drider was more manageable than people thought, as her spider mount was flexible. Zorana's problems, however, all seem to begin and end with her thorax.

Comparative to the rest of her chitin-covered spidey body, her thorax was the largest part of her body and was the only flesh-feeling part of her mount. It got stuck going in and out of doors because of the sheer bloat it carried like a balloon filled with milk. She left behind several pearly-coloured silk strings every time she left any door. In the Rustic Cafe, the new guy ordinarily cleant everywhere other than the outside of her door, which had been covered in several layers of unremovable, dried webbing topped with a fresh daily supply. She thought of two perfect words to describe the state of the inside of the room, and they hung on her doorway, Zorana's Web.

She continued her trail when she picked up the lobby and kitchen trash with the same ease as her personal trash. Outside of the charming Rustic Cafe, there was a disposal unit. The Crusher, as the staff called it, crushed, minced and burnt trash. It took two yanks and some cranking to even get the outdated device roaring to life. The mouth of the device could easily fit thrice the load she put inside it. Once in, it was time for her favourite part. Over the roars of The Crusher, she could pick out the individual noises. Zorana didn't care about the crushing of glass and plastic. A growling formed in the pit of her stomach at the sound of the faint, tasty crunch of human bones. This experience for her was akin to a chef preparing a meal before a hungry patron. Her favourite part was the scent she could distinctly smell over the plastic: human flesh and hair.

Her human half was dealing with a rumbling stomach, and she could already feel the throbbing in her thorax for her next meal. Bain came outside to smoke while she was lost in her perverse thoughts. His thick Stinger accent snapped her back to reality, "The bloody hell, Ana! Stop adding your trash in the Crusher!"

"Ah. Sorry." She had no intention of ever doing such a thing. Ana was already heading back when she felt a nudge on the side of her mount, and it was the first time she looked at him since he spoke.

Bain was a Cracker. Humans struggle to name the nonhumans they lived with on the creativity scale of 'Plants'. Crackers were referring to the varied group of nonhumans who had qualities of familiar household companions. Bain was a great Dane in qualities and personality. His flat, floppy, grey dog-like ears rest on the side of a mess of hair of a darker shade. Large brown eyes and a greyish beard were slightly thicker than bum fluff covering his chin. A gracefully ageing fifty-something-year-old man almost made people forget his years with good health, youthful demeanour, and Stinger accent. To Zorana, he was just her douchebag boss. Her opinion of him wasn't helped by the apron he kept nudging her with. So it was going to be this conversation again.

"No. I don't want to wear it." She gestured over the natural outfit that took her nearly a year to grow for this job. Zorana had grown enough fiery hair to cover one breast and the extra pairs of eyes people had complained about. His patience went faster than expected, "Ana! Just wear the damn apron!"

"I am not a chef!"

"Yes! You are a bartender, and we can't have your bamps just flopping around!"

"Your bamps are the only ones that flop!" There was a gasp as Bain was speechless. They were both cutting each other down with their gazes. Toby peeked in to see what the commotion was about. Bain spoke in a low growl, "Take it back. Right! Now!"

"Watcha goin' ta bloody do!?" Zorana said in her worst impression of a Stinger accent as Toby swung open the door, "Okay, okay, enough. We open in one hour. How have you guys not made a compromise on this yet?"

"We did!" Bain and Zorana said in unison. This made them both smile to Toby's disdain. He pointed to Bain first, who calmly said, "We agreed that she could grow out her hair but that if I was still getting complaints, she would put on proper clothes."

"Alright, and disagree with anything, Zorana?" Toby's finger turns its aim to herself.

"The same thing except for everything he said after the word but." A childish grin briefly forced its way on her lips at the last word she said, but they both saw this.

Just like that, she was snatching the apron from the dog's grubby paws and tying it on from behind the counter as the shift started. Everyone was here except for Loana. Bain was setting everything up for his usual evening speech by sorting out the complaint forms by name. Dike and Toby discussed their favourite show, 'Harlot and Knot'.

"All I am saying is that Harlot makes the show for me. She is the perfect comedy relief to that huffy detective." Dike countered with a smug grin on her lips. She was a rare breed in the nonhuman world. Her race was given the clever name of Bees on the account that them being yellow with many characteristics of their namesake: wings too small yet still allowed them to fly, a fine layer of fluff on their bodies that looked indistinguishable from the skin, and all of their bodily fluids (except for tears, blood, and waste) were addicting honey. Outside of being a Bee, Dike stood out by rocking the Harlot look to a T. Her hair was dyed a tacky, platinum blonde with black vertical streaks across the messy surface. The best way to describe it was if a woman spent an hour on her hair before deliberately messing it up in five minutes. A slim chin and upturned nose fit the pompous whore look that Harlot fans loved. Unlike Zorana, Dike was in full uniform; however, Toby countered, "Really? Knot always has good one-liners."

"But he is an asshole...."

"An asshole that gets shit done! That is why the ladies love him." Toby did not ape the look of Knot but the personality of the K. He was the only chef but pretty much played the role of whatever was needed in the bar. He was never seen without his all-black, iron-pressed chef suit or the goofy-looking, muffin-like topped chef hat. Only wisps of his brunette hair peeked from under his stupid hat. The only parts of his ensemble that Zorana liked were the kitchen knife and money. Nothing special about the blade beside the handle wrapped in the golden silk cloth she made him for his birthday. Ana dug the charcoal-rubbed leather sheath it was in too. The most attractive part of his uniform was how full his pockets were with pieces, his Native vanilla skin, and his fat ass. Nothing like a man with a fat sack and bottom to boot that got her engine going.

She just had to interject at Toby's smug look at his remark, being a fan of Harlot and Knot as well, "They don't love him afterwards, though."

"Nothing wrong with a little case of Dickends. Am I right, Zorana?" Toby gave her a knowing wink. Dike grimace, "Ew! Sorry, but I like my snatch the way it is. The last thing I want is a case of Dickends. Did you know--"

"Bloody fucking hell! Can you cunts talk about your venereal diseases anywhere else but at work!? Now! Complaints!" Bain had just finished separating the complaints into five stacks. Today there was not as much as usual, but Zorana stack was still higher than anyone else's. He quickly handed her the stack and coached the other two on what they needed to improve. Ana's eyes glazed over the complaints; they were the same as usual: nudity, poor customer service, refusal of service, and inappropriate behaviour. She usually liked to fantasize about how she would devour every name on the compliant list, but something was off today. Bain was on her before she could finish going through all the complaints, "Hey, Ana. What's up?"

The genuine concern in his commonly stern voice disgusted her, like she was some weak-willed human, "Piss off!"

"Alright, fine, give me the bloody apron back, ya spoiled cunt." At first, the offer made her lips curl into a smile before a more profound realization began to settle into her, "No, that is fine." The words came out in a monotone cadence, like she hardly gave them a thought. Zorana felt her entire spider half stiffen under his gaze, "Ana, then can ya at the very least tell me why ya spilt such a hessie over it?"

A deep sadness in his words compelled her to speak up. Dike and Toby stopped their conversation to listen to her response, "It is just that my skin is the only thing that makes me feel normal. I want to show it off to the world without covering it with clothes like humans or ink like Pests. For a Nonperson like me, my skin is the nectar in an otherwise harmless Venus flytrap." Her comparison made Toby grimace, Dike laugh, and Bain smile.

"And I understand. I just want the pinafore back, as long as you can answer one more question." Zorana hardly paid heed to her boss anymore as she was overcome with the urge to stroke her porcelain baby doll skin. The new mineral scrub she was using was doing wonders for her pores. This daydreaming made Bain's question strangely invasive, "Please allow me to touch you?"

Zora's only response was an upraised eyebrow which was as good as a 'yes' given how vocal she was with rejections. One of the first warning signs was how gently Bain took her hand like he was holding on to a thin sheet of summer's frost. Something about his touch made her immediately embarrassed by the fact that they were now touching each other. His words did not help the butterflies in her stomach, "Ana, your father and mother were good friends of mine, and they helped me get to the point of success that you and I are living off of today. I have known you since you were hatchling. Do you know what that means?"

All Zorana could do was swallow the acidic poison defensively building in her mouth and nod her head. A feeling felt like stomach flu mixed in with an odd sensation only comparable to eating a handful of roaches whole. She saw his movements as clear as day, yet she still jumped when the palm of his callous hands met her ribs, "Lil' Raven."

"Papa..." She was already deathly embarrassed that he was the first to notice, but more so that this bonding moment was spoiled by two of her co-workers. The soft look on Bain's face made up for it, "I can tell that you have not had any real food in two weeks. Your thorax grows bigger while your human half withers away. What is going on?"

"Papa... Can we talk about this later?" Zorana leaned in to whisper in a whine. All the blood in her flesh and mount felt like it was rushing to her face.

He gave her a light tap on her exposed ribcage before nodding and mouthing the words, 'Tonight.' Zorana's lips stung from how long it had been since she last smiled like this. This small chat with Bain made her feel ten pounds lighter in her soul. Papa's only warning about what would happen was her cheeks puffing like a chipmunk. Bain was quick enough to move his hands from her, but just as he started back up, he was met with a faceful of her lovely pink-flavoured poison, "What the hell, Ana?! Towels, you bumble cunts! It is in my eyes. God, I think I swallowed some of it."

Dike and Toby rushed to him like he was a man lit on fire. Her pink venom was one of the least harmful ones in her arsenal. Her stunning yellow and the acidic green followed in ascending order, so the most Bain would deal with was an erection lasting over an hour. Zorana's co-workers treated her like she had just melted off his face, giving her a wide berth when she scuttled out of the bar.

Zora tossed the apron in the nearest bin before stretching her arms to the sun. Breathing deeply as the sands, wind, and heat kissed her skin like a forlong lover, Ana smelled the skin of lesser creatures. The tender meat of humans complimented perfectly with the weaker nonhumans like Crackers and Stingers. She felt a slight rumbling in the stomach of her human half, which felt quaint to the monstrous rolling roar that her thorax felt. Her hunger for gristle and muscle was unavoidable when they combined like this.

It was midday, and she was about to drain some poor bastards to an inch of their life. That touching moment with Bain was a double-edged sword. Ana, indeed, still felt ten pounds lighter, meaning she could undoubtedly devour another twenty.