Scrub-bucket had been acting strange lately—well, stranger. Eta was a bit ashamed over how long it took her to notice; she’d been too wrapped up in her daily calls to the boss, and though she thoroughly enjoyed flirting casually with the boss, Boss wasn’t capable of taking the place she had for Scrub-bucket in her heart. Even if she caught the boss’ attentions for a thousand years it wouldn’t be enough to replace her dear companion.

Thinking back, his shift in demeanor happened right after he broke his leg. Superhero entrances…ugh!. Today was no exception.

Thump. Clank. Thump. Clank. She heard his two very distinct footsteps echoing down the hall. Lately, why one foot clanked while the other thumped, she hadn’t a clue. With him, it was better not to ask too many questions. The times she tried understanding his behavior only netted her an indecipherable answer. An eloquent gentleman he was not.

But today—today he’d gone too far.

Scrub-bucket strode through the doorway with his usual unrestrained grin. That part was fine. He had such an infectious smile, so sure of himself. He carried with him the usual platter of skewers. That was fine too, better than fine since he was an amazing cook.

None of those behaviors bothered her. In fact, she really appreciated the gestures.

It was that mannequin arm. For some reason she dare not ask, he was holding a plastic mannequin arm in the sleeve of his trench coat. One arm carried in the platter, while the mannequin arm draped idly at his side.

As he greeted her, Eta couldn’t help but blurt out, “what is that!?”

He tilted his head. “It’s a trench coat. Superman wore one to protect his secret identity, you know.”

Yes, yes, she’d read the scriptures. She knew the works of Superman and Mother Martha by heart, so the trench coat was no big deal.

“No, why are you carrying that thing around?” She asked, immediately cursing herself for not being more specific.

Sticking out the platter, he said, “oh! It’s because you gotta eat well to grow up big and strong. You want to be big and strong, don’t you?”

Flabbergasted by the odd turn of phrase she hadn’t studied yet, her attentions swayed. Really, she knew the mannequin arm had nothing to do with her. She was merely being nosy, concerned for her companion’s well-being. But growing up ‘big and strong’, now that was something that directly affected her.

She wasn’t much to look at, no one was when they reached her age. That being said, her body was still dainty and despite the wrinkles, it held the vague outline of a younger beauty. She took pride in the fact that if someone squinted really hard, it was possible to see her as she once was. Okay, if someone squinted really, really hard, to the point of near blindness, it was possible to discern her former beauty. So, his phrasing really struck a chord with her.

Eta narrowed her vision. “I don’t mind the ‘strong’ but the ‘big’…”

“You don’t want to be big?” Scrub-bucket asked.

Eta shook her head. She did not want to be big.

Scrub-bucket's eyes widened. Then his mouth fell open, twitching through every expression from bewilderment to downright horror. Before Eta knew it, he’d scrambled across the room to her bedside, dropping the platter in her lap, and snatching up the phone on her night-stand.

He pulled banana can to his ear and, without any greetings, jumped right to the heart of the matter. “Cancel the big! Cancel the big! Bwing, bwing. Cancel the big! Yellow? Yellow?”

She hadn’t a clue what he was raving about, or why it concerned the boss. All she knew was she’d said something to set Scrub-bucket off into a mad tirade. She didn’t want to grow up to be ‘big’, that wasn’t a big deal, right? Great, now she was questioning herself. He was the odd one, not her; she was mostly sure of it.

Despite his mad ravings that sent her own self into a tizzy, she noticed an immediate problem with Scrub-bucket’s call. Hesitant to disturb him, she pondered whether it would be worth letting him know. As little sense as he was making, it wouldn’t matter if the call went through. No, I just need to let him get it out of his system and then we can get back to our visit. Yup, let him burn himself out so we can visit nice and calm, like normal.

The rational part of her brain told her to let it be. Yet, she still found herself reaching out to tap him on the arm. He didn’t notice. Eta tapped harder, stubbing her finger on his rock hard muscles. Oh. Whoops. Inwardly cursing herself, she realized his muscles weren’t rock hard, they were plastic hard. She’d been tapping on the mannequin arm.

Say what you will about Scrub-bucket, he fully commits himself to his oddities.

It seemed the fake arm was sleeved all the way through his trench coat, presumably all the way up. He must have tucked his real arm inside the torso of his trench coat, holding the mannequin arm up by his shoulder. Chuckling at his antics, Eta poked him in the stomach.

Scrub-bucket’s head whipped around with the receiver by his ear. He glared at her intrusion into his call. That was fine, it just showed how much the call meant to him, even if it was irrational. The rational part of Eta’s brain told her not to interfere in his delusion, but the emotional side…well, if it was important to Scrub-bucket, it was important to her.

Eta ignored his glare and pointed to the string dangling loose off the receiver. He understood immediately. The call couldn’t go through because he had slack in the line.

She wasn’t expecting praise, but when he leaned over to kiss the top of her head, it made her intrusion worth it. She’d made the correct decision, rational thoughts be damned.  He'd always need her, even if he was delusional.

“Bwing, Bwing. Dragon, Dragon, Dragon, Dragon. Bwing, Bwing,” he repeated.

Apparently, he was going to annoy the boss into receiving his call. It was strange how he referred to the boss as Dragon, though. Maybe all those long, sultry calls she’d paid to the boss finally smoothed thing over between him and Scrub-bucket? After all, Scrub-bucket was such a good person. The boss must have finally realized that.

‘Dragon’ was probably a term of endearment, and the boss was a surprisingly nice fellow. He’d surely humor Scrub-bucket’s tirade.

“Bwing, Bwing. Yellow? Oh! Yellow!” He said. “New orders: Cancel the big! I said cancel the big! Don’t care. I don’t pay you to backtrack. No backtrack! What? I—I won’t future pay you for backtrack that occurs in the present. Start over, then!”

It sounded like he was sticking up for her. Eta listened in contentment until she caught Scrub-bucket’s eye. He smiled and nudged the platter closer, indicating he wanted her to eat up. She was hesitant, just for the fact she didn’t want to become big, but Scrub-bucket’s encouragement forced her to pop a chunk of meat in her mouth.

Surely if she became big, Scrub-bucket wouldn’t abandon her. Heck, he might even like the big girls and that was why he never made a move? Stranger things…

Seeing her eat, he finally turned his back to her, pushing his voice down into a grumble so low, Eta could no longer make it out.  So, she finished her meal and waited for him to wrap up. It even gave her time to think of a funny joke to play.

As the call droned on and on, Eta idly flipped through her book. It seemed she’d gotten to the outlandish chapters. One of the pictures depicted a man with a wingsuit soaring through the air. Another showed a man floating to the ground with a blanket tied to strings, funny, funny idea.

The one that really caught her attention was a bubble on skis; above that bubble was a pair of blades that would spin around and around according to what she could translate of the description. She assumed that invention inadvertently got put in the wrong section. That ‘hell chopper’ could only be seen as a weapon of war, skiing down the mountain slopes decapitating enemies with its whirling blades.

Sometimes, the book simply made no sense. It could be a translation error, too, however doubtful that was.

She lost herself for a bit in the book. Might be, it was finally starting to pique her interest. As low as her interest in the book was initially, the only way to go was up.

Seemed the call ended without her noticing and a shadow hovered over her shoulder, followed closely by a mannequin arm reaching across. Its plastic hand pointed to a picture she was studying.

“Those are stupid. I can already fly,” Scrub-bucket said.

Eta stifled a laugh. “Oh, so why don’t you?”

Scrub-bucket scratched his foot. “Cause I’m poor.”

He said it like it explained everything, but Eta had learned not to ask questions. He’d only give irrational answers. Even more unfortunate, she’d missed the timing for her joke. She wanted to tell him that she’d changed her mind, that she was just kidding about not wanting to be big. Then they could go round and round with silly antics.

With a glean in his eye, Scrub-bucket quit scratching the floor and perked right up.

“I have an idea!” He said. “Before long, I’ll show you I can fly. You’ll see! You’ll see how much fun it all is. It’s all a game and I’ll show you how to have fun with it!”

She almost asked him to elaborate but stopped herself. No matter how irrational his behavior, those delusions were important to Scrub-bucket, and Scrub-bucket was important to her. What harm was there in entertaining a few quirks here and there? For truly, he was a gentle soul.