If you notice hints in this draft that it had been intended as a longer
work,
the reasoning is thus: It had. I have dropped this project for a new
insight
I've had, but for now you can enjoy this. Don't hold your breath for a
finished draft, though, because it is not in my mental schedule--for
now,
at least.
Own Your Own Sanachan!
Art Ventro lived in a boring room in a boring house on a boring street
in
a boring city. He longed for something to happen, just once, that would
make his life interesting. Even the most minute adventure...ah, the
very
thought made him drool.
Lacking this, he devoted his time to the study of Aikidou and the
practice
of Watching Anime. Occasionally, he would invest in The Odd Bit of
Fan-fiction
on the Net, where he would read (or sometimes, when he felt that there
really
was nothing better he could be doing, submit) a down-home-style author's
partaking of some of his favorite animated series.
It was during one such occasion that he happened to come across what
he'd
been looking for all his life.
It was a message that had been addressed to him, and him only, from an
unknown. Art had tried replying, but his computer denied the
possibility
of his clicks' existence by not reacting. Strange as it was, he was
still
convinced it was some joke...yet he gave in and followed the link that
had
been captioned: "Own your own Sanachan!"
Kodomo No Ocha was one of his favorite in the broad range of anime, so
when he arrived and saw the product priced at a mere thirteen dollars,
he
gave in. Such acceptance was partially due to the fact that there was
not
a mention in the ad anywhere of the Sanachan in question being any kind
of toy or stuffed doll, or package of cheese, or whatever. It was a
statement
which only presented that it could be YOU, yes YOU, who owns a limited
edition
Sanachan! Take her to school, impress your friends, listen to her
sing!
The purchase placed, Art popped a boring game into his boring game
console
and played level after boring level of some zany jump on 'em game that
he'd
never even bought, he was sure.
The next morning was greeted with a knocking. Art flung himself forward
out of bed as his dog began to bark by his ear, and he slowly kicked his
way up and stumbled to the living room to end the ceaseless noise by
giving
it the attention it was dying for.
The knocking ceased the minute he stepped into the living room and saw
The Box.
It was a box that deserved capitol letters. It was huge, about ten
feet
squared, and had "Fragile" written across one side in large, red
lettering.
Double arrows with a label of "This Side Up" pointed toward the floor.
This alone may not earn a box capitol letters, but the fact that no way
in the universe existed to get this thing in the house short of sorcery
warranted
it having said name, The Box.
It took him an hour to pry it open, and when he was finished, two
skinny,
small legs popped up from that neat little green puffball packaging, and
flailed about desperately.
Art didn't even invite the thought that he may be dreaming. In his
experience,
dreams tended to be boring.
After much shuffling, the person inside the box finally poked her head
up over one side--hair ridden with packaging materials, and shouted,
"Sana
da!!!"
Art blinked. A card fluttered to the floor in front of him, and he
picked
it up and read:
1 of 1 made.
He was a very happy anime freak. For about an hour.
"You ate EVERYTHING!?" Art held his forehead in one hand and sighed.
"How
much, exactly, do you have to eat?"
Sana muttered happily in Japanese. Art didn't understand a word except
for "desu." She used it three times. That was about as far as he'd
gotten
with her the whole afternoon. Sana couldn't speak English, wouldn't
quit
following him, had an endless amount of what can only be called Sugar
Energy,
and had eaten everything in the house in about the time it took to
empty
the recesses of an ancient drawer. She'd left an equivalent mess, too.
"You'd better be glad my parents aren't home for the week!" Art waved
a finger. Sana ignored him and began dancing on furniture.
By Monday, Art looked worn and bent over, like a tired old man. Every
night, as he tried to get some rest, she would storm into his room with
either her recording device, or the dreaded Playskool instrument that
she
was obviously convinced she had mastered, and was very, very wrong.
"Hi Art!"
It was Billy County, an old friend of Art's who never ended up playing
significant roles in any stories anywhere. Art thought of him as the
best
boring person he could know.
"Eh..."
Billy patted him on the back, then spotted Sana.
"Is that your sister? She's cute. Hi there, little girl!" Billy waved
to her. Her reaction was to run around them in circles, shouting things
in Japanese that neither could understand. Billy blinked.
"I think she's hungry again," Art heaved.
"Geez, you look like you haven't slept in days. SHE been keeping you
up,
then? I know I'm wide awake after seeing that routine."
"You haven't heard her sing yet. And she won't quit following me."
"Who is she?"
"Sanachan."
Billy said, "..."
"Like in the anime, yes. Only she's real. Don't look amazed, it's not
worth it. She's the biggest hassle you'll ever meet."
Art told him about the message, the morning and The Box. Billy
whistled.
"I guess you really CAN find anything on the internet. I should look up
the dragon balls..."
"There are more pressing matters. How can I get rid of her?"
Billy was placing his jacket inside his locker, when Sana stuck her
head
up between the two of them with a large smile and nothing more to add.
Billy caught the look in Art's eyes, and before morality could play a
role
in the affair, they both shoved her in the locker and slammed the door
shut.
Billy brushed his hands together.
They both gave a small chuckle while around them students milled to
their
respective classes. For three seconds, they'd thought the problem was
solved.
Then, from the locker, and resounding off every wall in the hallway,
came
a crying noise the pitch and loudness of which no man, machine, or
animal
could possibly be capable of making. Billy and Art began to panic as
eyes
turned to them and the sounds eminating from their keep.
"Hurry! Unlock it!" Art whispered loudly.
Billy fumbled with the combination, trying to block out that terrible
cry.
In a moment, the locker was open, and the scream stopped almost half an
instant after. Sana had tears in her eyes. Art looked at Billy in
desperation.
They both received a mighty kick in the shins.
For the rest of the day, Sana drew silly pictures of cats on all the
blackboards
that they happened across, and bothered Art's teachers, and cried when
she
didn't have enough money for food. Sana had quite a bit of money, but
their
was a currency problem in the lunch line; the first they'd ever had.
When Art finally made it home, he flopped miserably down on the couch
and
pulled a pillow over his head as the hideously annoying Sanachan did
everything
in her power to lay to rest any plans of Art laying to rest.
It was going to be a long, long week.