Topic: How Did You Come up With Your Username?

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It seemed like even the weather had been reflecting Rick's attitude lately. As the storm brewed outside his window, shaking the trees with its tumultuous wrath, thoughts of bubbling unrest tumbled and clashed inside the tangerine-head's mind. The chicken farmer rolled over onto his side and glared at the calendar on the wall. It was marked the 29th of Spring, but his eyes focused on that huge red circle around the 30th. His sister Popuri had been especially careful to remember that day that she tried to make it stand out on the calendar as much as possible, even going so far as to put a little smiley face on the date with that tomato-red marker of hers.

He swore under his breath as lightning shook the house.

"Great" he hissed through his teeth. "Looks like I'll be feeding the chickens in the rain this morning. As if this week couldn't get any worse..."

Rick groaned and rolled over. He slid off the side of the bed and stretched, then walked over to the chest of drawers and pulled out one of his trademark turtleneck sweaters and a pair of corduroy pants. The youth shucked off his night pants and pulled on his new wardrobe before heading downstairs. He found the feed pail in its usual place on the counter (As if it would be anywhere else, Rick mentally growled). Scooping the bucket up, he headed over to the door and jerked his work apron off of the rack beside it. Then, taking a deep breath, he braced himself as he dashed out into the downpour.

The storm was deafening. Huge raindrops almost as big as his thumbnail cascaded down around him, echoing like missile fire as they riddled the tin roof of the chicken coop. The thick mud squished under his boots, slowing his run to a near crawl to keep the soggy silt from sucking the shoes from his feet. The faster Rick tried to get to the coop, the harder the rain pelted him. And the harder the rain pelted him, the angrier the youth got. By the time he finally managed to pluck himself out of the quicksand-like yard, he was so hot with rage that he could have spared the kitchen a dirty pan by just frying the eggs on his forehead!

The wind slammed the coop door behind Rick-hard. He barely had time to make it inside before it smacked him in the back, sending him sprawling face-first into the hard-packed dirt of the shack. He could hear the squawking of the chickens as they flailed to get out of his way.

Why me...? thought an overly frustrated Rick. Shaking off the dirt, he stood up and staggered over to the empty bucket. At least he hadn't filled it yet. There would be no end to his sister's arguments if he wasted feed (even though corn was plentiful in the summertime and the ranch already had enough feed to feed their chickens 100 TIMES OVER!), and that would just upset their mother-which was the absolute LAST thing that Rick wanted to do, seeing as how weak she had become lately.

He ambled past the ruffled chickens, all of which were still puffed up in the corners of the coop after the rancher's little fall. Heaving a nerve-wracked sigh, he opened the hatch to the feed bin and let some of the corn drop into the pail. The nerve-wracked birds forgot their fear of being squashed the moment Rick dumped the out their breakfast. However, Rick, having become well-accustomed to the game of "don't-step-on-the-chickens-while-you-fill-the-feed-boxes" over the years, nimbly danced around the frenzied birds as he walked to and from the bin. Finally, his job completed, he made another mad dash out into the rain and back to the house.

The moment he pulled open the door, he was immediately aware of his mother's presence in the room. As he pulled off his sopping wet apron, he saw her squatted next to the fire tending a huge pan of something. Without even turning around to see whom had entered, she called out to the young man.

"Rick, just bring that wet apron of yours over here next to the hearth," Lillia hollered to her son. The youth complied, shaking his head.

"Mom," an exasperated frown crossed his rain-glistened face, "how did you know it was me?"

Lillia turned from her victuals and gave her boy a warm smile. As he knelt down beside her to drape his apron across the hearth screen, she stroked his dripping orange hair. "Because," she said, "I'm your mother, and I love you."

"That still doesn't explain how you could tell who walked through the door without looking," he knitted his brow. "What if it had been a stranger?"

"Now, Rick..." the rose-haired woman put her free hand on her hip as she stirred the pan with the other. "The LAST stranger we had around these parts was FAYE, and look how good of friends you and Popuri have become with her!"

Rick growled low and scratched his head. His brow furrowed deeper.

"That's not the point!" he jeered. His mother merely smiled wider.

"Oh, I know..." she grinned.

Rick raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Rick's just mad 'cause KAI'S coming BACK!"

A shrill voice made Rick nearly jump out of his skin. When he saw Lillia tilt her head and turn her gaze to a spot at the top of the stairs, the tangerine-head whipped around to find his younger sister hanging half-way over the railing-grinning from ear to ear.

"Good morning, Popuri," Lillia crooned as her daughter thundered down the stairs. "Are you hungry?"

"Mmm-hmm!" the cheerful 'rose-ette' nodded.

"That's NOT funny!" Rick glowered at Popuri.

"Yes, it IS!" Popuri laughed. "It's TRUE, isn't it?"

"POPURI, why, I outta...!"

"Now, Rick..." his mother scolded. "There's no reason to get so upset at your sister. Besides, I don't see what's so bad about Kai, anyway. He seems like a rather nice young man to me!"

"I don't trust him, Mom!" Rick barked. "THAT'S why!"

"Harrumph!" Popuri scoffed, her bony fists making their way to her hips. "I don't see why not! He's never done anything to YOU, Big Brother!"

"Popuri-" the girl stood up and headed over to the kitchen cabinets. Rick got up and walked over to continue his protest, but Popuri threw open a cabinet and blocked her face from view-signaling the end of THAT conversation. Her brother just ducked underneath and walked to the other side. Popuri, her arms now cradling a stack of dishes, strutted smartly over to another cabinet as Rick shut the first one.

"Popuri, he's not from around here, for one thing!" he whined as his sister started taking glasses out of the second cabinet.

"Well, neither is Faye," retorted the maiden," and SHE'S my best friend!"

"But," Rick shut the second cabinet back as Popuri knelt to take something out of a THIRD cabinet (A/N: Anybody think Rick can't take a hint?) ," that's different! She's a girl!"

"Oh, yeah?" Popuri stuffed a cloth napkin in each of the glasses as she stood up. "What about Cliff? You seem to get along with him, alright."

The 'rose-ette' stomped past Rick again to a drawer below the first cabinet, leaving Rick to shut the last one. She yanked open the drawer and began deftly loading the top plate with silverware.

"How does anyone not get along with him?" Rick grunted. "All he ever does is sit in Church and mope! Carter would probably freak out if that kid didn't show up to listen to one of his ramblings!"

"RICK!" Lillia scolded as she scraped the pan.

"Sorry, Mom, but Popuri-"

More silverware clattered against the dishes. "Well, at least Kai has a JOB!" Popuri waved a butter knife in front of Rick's face. "Which is more than I can say for Mr. Gloomy-Gus."

"But, Po!"

The girl whirled around again and marched off to the table. Rick pushed in the drawer and followed her, pressing the matter even further.

"CAN IT, Rick!" Popuri hissed at him, her raspberry eyes glaring daggers into his sunset orange ones. "You know, that guy has been nothing but civil to you. And yet, from the time he set foot on the Mineral Town pier, you've wanted to bash his skull in with a rock!"

"Have not!"

"Have so!"

"Have NOT!"

"Have SO!"

"HAVE NOT!"

"HAVE SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"CHILDREN!"

Both siblings immediately ceased their bickering and turned to face their mother-who now was standing holding a large cast-iron skillet in one hand and a spatula in the other. She trotted over and sat the pan on the table between them. A warm, meaty smell wafted up to greet Rick's nostrils.

"Now, if you would be so kind, Popuri," Lillia asked, "since Rick already feed the chickens, could you run over to Faye's farm and ask for some milk?"

"Of course, Mom!" And out the door Popuri flew, rain streaming into the house because she left the door standing wide open. Rick gaped and gestured his hand toward the door.

"See? SEE?" he protested. "THAT'S another thing!"

He ran over and pushed the door shut, taking off his already damp sweatshirt and mopping the water up with it.

"What," Lillia cocked her head to the side, "Kai leaves his door open? (A/N: OMG, I did NOT just say that...that sounded so wrong... )"

"NO, Mom," Rick drug an empty bucket out of the closet underneath the stairs and took it over the entryway, "what I mean is Popuri's CARELESSNESS! She doesn't pay any attention to things! For example, I've tried to teach her how to take care of the chickens, but when she messes up, she just blames it on Dad for HIS not teaching her!"

"So?" Lillia smiled. "We ALL know that Popuri is just joking about stuff like that. Can you honestly say she means any harm?"

"No..." the orange-head wrung out his now dingy-looking sweater in the bucket. "But when it comes to other guys, I don't want Popuri making a bad mistake."

Lillia just giggled and motioned for her half-naked son to come to the table.

"Rick," she started, "do you remember what you asked of me earlier?"

"You mean about how you could tell it was me that opened the door?"

Lillia nodded.

"Would you like to know why?"

"That's why I asked, Mom," he said, "but I don't understand what loving your kids has to do with identifying footsteps."

"Well," she put her arms around his neck in a motherly embrace, "it doesn't just pertain to one's children. In fact, if you love someone enough, a bond forms between you and that person. It doesn't matter if it's pitch dark or broad daylight, rainstorm, snowstorm, or fog-if that bond's there, you know it's them. Sometimes, you can almost tell the exact moment they arrive back from a long trip, because there's this tiny little feeling that bubbles all up inside you until you think you are going to burst."

Lillia relaxed her hug and began to smooth down her son's stringy tangerine hair.

"And, if that bond's strong enough, you can even understand how they are feeling inside-whether they show it or not. That's what love is, Rick. Now..." she gave him a quick peck on the forehead. "...Go put on some dry things before you catch a cold."

The chicken farmer headed on up the stairs to his and his sister's room. Sure, he didn't really understand exactly what his mother was saying, but it still managed to get him in a cheerier mood than usual.

As Rick pulled on a new pair of corduroys and a new turtleneck sweater, he heard a door slam and Popuri's childish giggle erupt from downstairs. As he headed out of the room, he glanced over at the calendar. At least, for the rest of the day, he could try to be happy-for his mother's sake. It was the least he could do...

...Kai would just have to wait.

And that's how I came up with WaltzElf