Humans are Weird - Boxing
Her thought vine was interrupted by the sound to nearly dancing feet and she felt her frill warm with pleasure as her beautiful mate came around the corner, his broad triangular head tilted to the side and up as he chatted eagerly with a fluttering cloud of membrane and fur that hovered over him. He had some soft cloth draped over one arm he was rapidly gesticulating with the other as if explaining something. The box was almost ready to be lifted into the transport so First Mother paused a moment to admire the gleaming of his green membrane and the bold ultraviolets that danced with the red in his psudo-frill. It was obvious when he spotted her, his antenna curled like a youth just seeing his intended for the first time and he danced up to her with delight in his pheromones.
“Do you need help with that my giantess?” he asked, indicating the box that towered over his head with a flick of his antenna.
“No,” she said, ducking her head to give his antennas a friendly stroke with her own.
By the first vine he still tasted a delightful as the first day they had met.
“It weighs hardly anything,” she explained, “and I don’t want you to dirty that lovely…”
She titled her head thoughtfully at the brilliant white cloth that just barely reflected hints of ultraviolet. She was reasonably sure it had something to do with taking care of newly laid eggs. Her mate clicked in amusement at her confusion and gestured for the Winged who were following him to load into the cab of the transport. She gave the box a firm grip and hefted it up and into the bed. She activated the auto-ties and the slithered out and over the box, securing it firmly to the bed.
“Wouldn’t it be better to collapse the box before disposing of it?” asked a voice that probably belonged to one of the Winged who and lingered outside of the cab.
“I am not disposing of it,” First Mother explained as she gave the auto-ties a testing pull. “That should do it. I am going to gift this to the humans for another use.”
“Don’t the humans have their own disposable shipping containers?” a Winged voice asked as she turned and pulled herself into the cab, basking in the close smell of her mate’s pheromones.
“It’s unusual for them to get ones of this volume,” First Mother explained.
“So we like to share ours when we can,” First Father agreed, from where he was working over the glittering cloth, doing something with a tuning stone that seemed to be making the cloth more ultraviolet.
The Winged took up a continuous chitter that was rather hard to follow over the wind whipping by the transport. First Mother thought she caught questions about the trees, the canopy density, and speculation about what the humans could possibly use the box for once it had been opened and the structural integrity was comprised, but none of them dipped down into her line of sight so she ignored them. They pulled into the open yard of the human hive and into the shade shed that provided proper solar shielding. They were met with a rush of small humans and First Mother smiled down at them. Picking out the Human First Sister whose name she couldn’t quite remember.
“I brought you the box Human Second Cousin Betty was talking about,” First Mother said, patting the item in question.
There was a shout of delight from the humans and First Mother had far more help than was strictly helpful getting it down from the transport. The children carried it off making plans about windows and doors and arguing about who was old enough to use the knife.
“It this quite safe?” First Father clicked, coming up behind First Mother and clutching the cloth nervously between his hands.
“Human First Sister is very sensible,” First Mother said, giving him a soothing pat. “She won’t let them injure themselves.”
First Father gave an unconvinced little click at that but then the Winged visitors swept around the transport and Human First Mother came out the door and boomed out a delighted greeting.
“Time to meet our local humans,” First Mother said waving the Winged forward.
The meeting went very well. The Winged, a security wing traveling to study how outlying agricultural colonies kept dangerous rodents of unusual size at bay, were utterly fascinated by the layered security approach the human farms took. They were rather disturbed at how lethal some of the traps would be for beings of their size, but clearly understood the necessity. They were just discussing sitting down to a meal, an odd human concept, such a rigid synchronizing food consumption time, but a generally pleasant social interaction, when one of the smaller human children attempted to sneak from the front door to some point deeper in the house. Human First Mother instantly detected the subterfuge dispute her narrow field of vision and called the child over. The child, a Brother of some order, instantly cringed, and slunk forward clearly hiding one hand in the opposite sleeve of his garment.
“What happened Bobby?” Human First Mother asked in a stern voice.
Bobby directed his eyes frantically around the room and then his face relaxed when he saw First Father.
“I can’t tell!” Human Brother Bobby said, giving his mother a grin that spoke of pain and satisfaction.
“And why not?” demanded the human.
“I don’t want to trazmarite First Father,” Human Brother Bobby said nodding his head towards the visitor and attempting to walk sideways towards some point further away from his mother.
“Oh really,” Human First Mother said, moving as she spoke and snatching the child, who was still a fraction of her mass, up in her thick arms, “and what pray tell, might be wrong that it would trazmarite First Father?”
Human Brother Bobby wrinkled his face as only a human child could and pouted.
“Just cuz I don’t know the word don’t mean that you gotta say it wrong,” he complained, attempting to wriggle out of her grasp.”
“I see,” Human First Mother said with a laugh. “Well I need to go take care of this, why don’t you go out and see what the children have done?”
The last she directed at First Mother with a glance of her bifocal eyes and First Mother gave an understanding click. First Father waited until they were out of the main house before asking.
“Shouldn’t his father have been taking care of that?”
“You know it’s different with humans,” she pointed out.
“Was the child injured?” came a winged voice.
“We smelled blood!”
First Father flinched and curled his antenna tight to his head.
“He probably was,” First Mother admitted. “However in my experience if a human child is attempting to hide an injury it isn’t serious enough to require intense medical attention.”
“What are they doing?” one of the Winged suddenly demanded.
Multiple large holes had been cut into the box and a human head appeared at one displaying a wide grin. Then the side of the box burst open and several children came tumbling out emitting sounds that were high pitched enough to be mistake for Winged chatter.
“Come vithit our houth!” one of the children called out waving at either the Winged or the tree behind them, before attempting to scramble back into the tightly packed packing box.
“This is some game of pretend!” one of the Winged suddenly declared.
“The human child must have cut himself making the holes!”
“No!” came a shout from inside the box and Human First Sister’s head appeared at one of the holes. “I did that! He just stole the knife when I was done!”
“Should we go in and investigate?” asked one of the Winged.
“I would strongly advise against it,” First Father cautioned them, the set of his antenna stuck between amusement and mild horror. “They do not look as if any of them know what do do with all those limbs, much less what all those limbs are doing.”
As he spoke the box toppled over on one side, uncovering a pile of laughing human children who scrambled to disentangle themselves while the largest set the box up in whatever the proper position was.
First Mother gave a click of contented amusement as she settled back on her legs.
“This is what the humans wanted the packing box for?” A Winged demanded.
“Only the big ones,” First Mother explained tugging First Father closer to her for some antenna grooming. “When it looses all structural integrity they will cut it up and recycle it in a more...traditional way.”
The human children had split into two groups, one taking up a defensive posture inside the box, the others dancing around the outside hooting and smacking the sides of the box with their club like hands.
“That probably won’t take long,” First Mother added.