Redbeet can barely contain her anger.
“Shut up the lot of you!” she screams, “Shinybeet, on with your speech, we’re ALL listening.”
Shinybeet begins where he left off:
“Yes, we can mix and match. We can mate with insects quite different from us to create better, stronger species. Then we shall be able to cope with any new given situation and environment, and with whatever life throws at us.”
“Breeding perfection to overcome your defective breed, are we now? We’ve seen it all before,” Spidey interrupts once more. “Who the hell do you think you are, you and your by now obsolete new age positive reinforcement type speech, you hell-made-two-legged-freak and nut-loose-minded-bug?”
This is when some of the General’s kids, who have remained shyly on the side, decide to make themselves heard.
“Dad,” ventures a dejected looking beetle-cross-spider that looks like a fly with too many legs, a body with too large a stock of thread and wings kept open above it like an umbrella, “I would like you to acknowledge me as your son.”
“WHAT ARE YOU? WHAT WOULD YOU?” the General screams, one corner of his mouth distorted by sheer contempt.
“I’m my father’s son. YOU are my father, like it or not. My birth is no mistake and for that I do not have to pay. For that, you CANNOT make me pay. I am proud of my mother’s doing. She gave me life through labour pains and for that, I’m grateful. She gave me a life I could never have dreamt of before. For that, I’m grateful. She gave me wings and thread that no other bugs in the universe would have considered having, ever. For that, I’m grateful. She gave me gifts.”
“Go back to where you came from!” the General says his eyes closed, some battle taking place within him.
To be continued…