Stuck On You

Stuck On You

His first memory is of falling, tumbling end over end in an exhilarating rush that was over far too soon. He didn't even notice the pain of landing because he was too concentrated on the feeling of skidding forward, hoping and hoping there would be another drop off in his future. When he finally came to rest, though, it was in the corner of the container, flush with the frost-laden wall. There was only one other cube nearby, as most of the others had ended up in a jumbled heap right under the Spout-thing. He could just barely hear them, still settling in, the harsh sounds of ice against ice reflecting off of the plastic walls.

His inertia gone, all he could really do was lean up against the wall and think about how much fun the tumble had been. He allowed himself a bit of pride for having escaped the crush of cubes, as well--he was certain he'd have hated being stuck at the very bottom, having to take the superior attitude of those of the upper echelon.

"You'll get stuck like that, you know," a grumpy voice beside him said. It was the nearby cube, whose lower left-hand corner was a bit rounded, as though it had chipped off and been melted smooth again.

"Stuck?" he replied, not sure he liked this chipped cube's tone.

"Yes, stuck," it said in a lofty voice. "Don't you know anything about Temperature States and Melt Physics?" The way it said this made him upset. It wasn't like he'd had much time to learn anything, after all. Still, some things were instinct, he supposed, and he could feel something in the air around him--if he rested too closely to the slick wall, it would want to bond with him. He wasn't sure he was ready for that.

"Is that how you lost your corner?" he said, a bit defensively.

"Isn't that just typical," Chipped muttered to himself. Then, a little louder, it said, "You don't have much room to talk--at least I don't have a mutant edge . I thought there were regulations against that sort of thing."

The frost on the wall dulled any sort of reflection, but he knew what Chipped was talking about, he could feel the extra ice there. He kind of liked it, actually.

"Size matters," he said diffidently, enjoying Chipped's spluttering reaction. He was sure if the temperature in their freezer had been any cooler, it would have actually shed water in indignation. "Calm down there, Chipped," he said. "Think of how much worse it'd be if we were stuck in that mess." He couldn't gesture, but Chipped had to know what he meant. It looked really distracted--at the thought of more rounded corners, no doubt--before it spoke again.

"Chipped? Chipped ! Do I look like I've got rough edges to you, you... you... Spikehead!"

He wisely kept silent during the tirade, though 'Spikehead' sounded wrong to him, so maybe Chipped had a point about the name thing.

"Well, what would you like to be called, then?" he asked. "Splutter?" he offered, waiting for the reaction.

"Oh, that's just awful. You don't get to name anything," Chipped/Splutter said disgustedly. "I'm... well. I'd really rather have been spherical--ice absorbs a lot fewer... contaminants that way. So, you can call me... Rod."

"Rod."

"What? You don't think I want to be completely round, do you?" Rod huffed. "What do I call you, then?"

"Whatever," he said. It really didn't matter to him much, though he had to admit 'Spikehead' wasn't something he'd answer to.

"Very helpful, thanks," Rod said sarcastically. "So..."

Rod didn't get to finish his thought, however, as at that moment there was a rush of unwelcome air from the door to the freezer as it was pulled open. He and Rod looked at each other helplessly as they heard and felt the loud thumps of different things being moved around. Suddenly, their container tipped sideways, and Rod slid smoothly across to land very close beside him, almost touching. The air around them felt wrong, and he felt the entire container vibrate as the freezer's motor kicked in, blowing deliciously cold air across the top of their hiding place. It wasn't enough, though.

"Oh, this is bad," Rod said, a twinge of terror in his voice. Rod started muttering something that he couldn't make out.

"What are you doing?"

"Shh, I'm calculating something!" After a long pause, Rod spoke again, not even disguising his fear this time. "We are so screwed. If that door stays open just five more minutes..."

"This is something about Melt Physics, isn't it?" he asked, trying to cheer Rod up.

"Yes, of course it's--oh, funny, Cowlick, that was brain-melting humor right there," Rod hissed.