Pickle Juice

Juliet Moonsong · 09-13-2011, 01:54 AM

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.: OOC :: Poor Daddy. I think he is getting to see the coldness of the aspergers. WC :5+

She looked down at the furry thing and then back to her father she still wasn’t sure what her thoughts should be about this thing, however if her father wanted it that day, well and it didn’t act like it wanted her to eat it, then she guess she would let it alone. Though if it came over to her and acted like it wanted ate, she would do it. The ferret might be covered in fur and might be long and lean, but there had to be some good meat in there.
The child looked back up to her father as he went on about Why he had made that statement, she made sure that her father knew that she was listing to him, while her sponge like mind took in every little thing that the male spoke and told her that she took into her hungry little mind and locked it all away, where she would keep it and hold onto it forever.

It was unclear to her, that these words, these little bits of information that they gave her upon a simple request was the best things that they could ever do for the autistic child. She gave a slow nod; she thinks she understood what the tall male was trying to tell her.

”Why do you guys say one thing and mean another?!” the child stomped down one of her little red tipped paws. Bring her furry little face into a sours curl she looked up at him, waiting on an answer from him. She was so blessed to have a mother and father that allowed her to ask all of these questions, no matter how big, small, or even foolish.
As the next batch of information was softly feed to her, she found her minds twisting and turning some more. The child looked up to her father, her face curling up again, this time it was with a look that she was in the middle of talking and he had stopped her, but really he hadn’t. He gave her the fuel that her mind needed to go on. ”Well if they don’t live like a family who teaches them where to get food? Who teaches them that they are food to others? They can’t expect us to teach them everything can they?” The child would always be damned with asking questions and if there ever came a time when a question wasn’t needed surely something would come out that just wouldn’t be what her mother or father would be happy with, something blunt and to the point. Weather it was nice or polite and all that junk just didn’t seem to functioning in her mind.

Then for the first time her father asked her a question back, she looked at him with the same eyes as before as she gave a nod, would she or would she not let something die in its own infancy of its life? She knew that question, she would in not even in a flat second of her life kill it, or walk away from it unless it was clearly able to say that it needed help. So once again something came out of the child’s mouth blunt and to the point, ”Yes.” She didn’t look to her father to see if that was a right answer, to her there was only right and wrong and if he asked her, then surely he must have thought then this was from her mind and her own thoughts.

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