Polyester Girl

All I want you to say

is nothing at all

And all I want you to do

is stare at the wall

Rico smiled at Miss Perky. She smiled back. Her plastic hand felt smooth and cold against his wing tip - a good feeling. Nothing like the fleshy textured warmth of a living being. Miss Perky was perfect like that. Just perfect. No complaining about stupid feelings, no holding him back from what he wanted to do in life. Just blank, smiling acceptance. He loved her.

There wasn't anyone in the world quite like Miss Perky. Well, perhaps that was incorrect; technically speaking, there were millions of copies of her, but his Miss Perky was special. His first Miss Perky was the girl of his world, but this second one - she was the girl of his universe. As Skipper had said, the universe, which needed to settle a debt with him, was just waiting for the right girl. And that was his beautiful, smiling, artificial Miss Perky.

Rico thought girls were awfully funny. Sure, there was the… Incident back in Guatemala, but aside from that, he'd never been particularly keen on women that could hinder him like they had his brothers. Doris and Kowalski. Lola and Skipper. Cupid and Private. The ones who'd gotten away. Dames - who could figure 'em? Rico didn't need that in his life, some woman induced by crazy chemical reactions and living emotions that were subject to change based on circumstances. Nah, he had enough of that for more than one person. That was why he and Miss Perky fit so well together. They were just right.

He was careful to never disrespect his beautiful queen, but she didn't seem to mind even when he might have messed up here or there. Ever forgiving, because she didn't have the capacity to comprehend mistakes to begin with. Just a sweet lady who always smiled, wide eyed and accepting of whatever he did. The perfect girl. The right girl. No chemicals.

She had spoken to him, a handful of times, but in the end he'd decided she was better when she didn't have anything to say. She had, for a moment, seemed as if she wanted to run away to Las Vegas with him - a notion he was quite agreeable to - but then spontaneously decided to just be his 'special friend'. Dames. Who could…?

Too many chemicals. It hurt his brain to think about.

Kowalski had referred to what he had as a 'chemical imbalance'. Aside from that, Rico was an enigma, even to his 'superior genius intellect'. So many words. So many stupid, pointless words. All Kowalski had to say to Rico was that he was unfit for conventional society, and be done with it. No need to formulate pages of diagrams and detailed drawings to file away Rico's 'condition'. No need to look away uncomfortably when Skipper asked (when they were mere hatchlings, of course - naive enough) if Rico would ever be able to be 'normal'. No need for the redundant and blatant reminder of what was obvious enough.

Miss Perky didn't mind that Rico had problems. She didn't care that he was dangerous and messed up. No, she just smiled. She was perfect. And around her, so was he. He didn't have to worry about hurting her dainty little chemical emotions with his own unstable ones. He didn't have to worry about her worrying like his brothers did. Worrying that someday, he would snap. That someday, his rage, his extreme emotions, his chemicals… They would be too much. That one day, he'd…

No, Miss Perky was just right. The perfect gift of a perfect girl of a perfect smile and a perfect, plastic love without a worry to worry about. Bright blonde hair, sky blue eyes, pink lips, tan skin and a nice curvy body that she liked to flaunt when he slipped off that pink dress. Everything about her was perfect.

People - real people - they talked too much. So many words, so many feelings, so many chemicals, shooting from their brains into their bodies to make them do so many things that just didn't make sense to a guy like Rico. There was just so much, all at once. How could they expect him to understand it when they weren't even aware of what was going on within their own bodies?

Kowalski was too calculating. Private was too loving. Skipper was too paranoid. Marlene was too frantic. Julien was too enthusiastic. Miss Perky was just right.

That was the beauty of it all, wasn't it? Miss Perky really was perfect for him. With her as his girl, he didn't need to worry about suddenly ruining everything, because she wasn't like everyone else. She was different, she could understand him because she couldn't. Which was great, because really, he couldn't even understand himself, even if he understood himself better than anyone else did. Miss Perky would never leave him. He'd never scare her away, never hurt her.

Miss Perky's smooth, cold plastic felt inviting and refreshing against his feathers as he sat with her in the HQ. He watched over his brothers as Skipper examined some plans for a secret operation, Kowalski poured highly reactive liquids into one beaker to combine them, and Private stared at the television with rapt interest while his favorite program - the Lunicorns - played. Soon, he would ruin them. Soon, they would break under his chemicals. The awkward glances, the under-the-breath mumbling, the redundancy and wordiness, the disconnect. It would be too much. They would leave him. Miss Perky would stay, though, eternal in her polyester love.

Miss Perky smiled at Rico. He smiled back.