Have you ever felt the urge to get rid of vowels? To just forget they ever existed? Well, there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for this: the consonants. M and N, the proclaimed leaders of the consonant militia, utterly despise all vowels. M and N’s parents were all murdered by a rogue vowel, A killed their parents when both were only banana months old (11 years).
~ flashback time~
“Oh 13 you look fine, besides it’s just dinner with 4 and 10,” 0 complained playfully at her husband, “You know they just got N into school at lettermack, he’s even got some classes with M.”
13 glanced at his wife, she was wearing just a t-shirt and skinny jeans, of course, although he couldnt help but stare at the curve of a goddess and she was as beautiful as any number could possibly be. The male number, which were called numbros, finally decided on something from the overflowing piles from the closet, a rad, bright red jacket with his favorite pair of gray jeans and a white undershirt. 0 scoffed at her husbands choice, she thought that the outfit was -glorious as always- a tad overdressed for the casual bar and grill they were going. The numbro sarcastically draped a hand over his heart in mock hurt.
“Their kid was nf you said?” 13 asked, as he gathered his wallet, keys and phone into a neat stack in the crook of his elbow.
“N, dear, and he’s quite the charmer, he’s got children lined around the school to play with him at recess,” the female number, which was called a numbre, replied. She was smiling at the memory of the children at the playground when she went to pick up M early for a doctor’s appointment last week.
“Well then, guess he’ll be seducing our little boy before grade eight then?”
Both chuckled on their way out of the bedroom, they had to say goodbye to their little son, M. The little numbro was old enough now to stay home without a numbersitter, as was N. 4 and 10 were going to drop off N while they picked up 13 and 0 to go to Number Bee’s.
After gargoyle minutes ( fifteen minutes) the 10’s finally rang the doorbell to the old, tiny cottage the 13’s lived in. [ •the last names of families is determined by the spouse with the greater value of number, no matter of gender or wealth] N rushed in the door, his sleek body making the sharp turns to get to M’s room so fast, all the numbers saw was a streak of purple hair. 13 found it odd that he knew exactly where to go, as far as he knows the letter had never been in his house but he paid no mind to the occurrence and continued to 10 and 4’s car.
After M made sure both his parents and N’s were gone with clever ninja-ing around the window in his room, he pulled the letro (male letter) onto the bed into a hug. They lay there cuddling in comfortable silence until N suddenly felt the urge to ask a question he’d had since dingo weeks (two weeks) ago.
M rolled to where he was facing N, “ Yeah?”
N chewed on his lip, a motion so thoughtless he didn’t even notice M’s fascination with it until their lips had connected, well that seemed to answer the purple haired letro’s previous question until N remembered what his friend R had said about something called friends with benefits. After a brief making out, N could function his lips into words, letting the question spew from his swollen lips.
It was a simple answer but it brought so much joy to both the letros that they kissed again, this time sweet and slow. Neither felt any urgency to move from there so both lay with their lips still connected and arms around eachother. It wasn’t long before both fell into a deep sleep. Both letros dreamed of the prospects of them officially dating now.
M awoke the next morning to the blaring sirens of something outside and an urgent pounding on the door.
“Number District Police Department, M 13? Would you mind coming to talk with me for a while?” a deep voice boomed over the sirens and through the door.
M shoved covers off his imprisoned feet and ran to the door. Many thoughts were going through his head, the prime one being Has someone reported him and N? Were what they doing wrong?
As the letro opened the door, a member of the local police station with her hat in her hand, what she said next completely destroyed M.