Dopey: A Short Story
***FEBRUARY***
The first thing I did was hide the body, then I called my mother. She told me not to worry, that she would take care of everything. I hung up the phone and fell into my dad's Lazy Boy. I hoped my mom would get home before he did. Dopey was his favorite.
"What the hell is going on?"
My sister, January stomped her way into the living room and stood in front of me. Her fingers tapped her hips while her blue eyes danced furiously. "Where is he? Where is the little cretin?"
I glared back at her. "What's wrong with you?"
"My silver necklace is gone, the one with the diamond that Roger gave me," she spat. "I know that little mutant took it again. Where is he?"
"Maybe you left it at Jonathan's house last night," I suggested, clicking the television on. "Beside his alarm clock on his night table perhaps?"
"You little -" she began, the huffed back to her room.
January had a very strong dislike of all dad's "little men", but she hated Dopey the most. She ordered him to clean her room, wash her car, do her share of the chores, etc. and if he were the slightest bit disobedient, she would beat him. She would beat him senseless. She would beat him within an inch of his life.
I never liked my sister January very much.She was a cold-hearted, two-faced bitch princess. Definitely, she was the most evil of the three of us. My other sister, March was almost too kind. She volunteered at the hospital, a few rest homes, an animal shelter, a daycare, the soup kitchen and worked at the grocery store; for free.
"Hello, February," March greeted in her candy-coated voice. She sat down on the couch and smiled. "How was your day?"
"It was okay," I shrugged, turning the channel to MTV. "Dopey is gone."
March gasped. "What do you mean?"
"I found him when I got home."
"That's awful," she cried. "Does daddy know?"
"Nope," I told her, flipping to another channel. "MTV plays nothing, but garbage anymore."
March stood up. "How can you just sit there and watch TV at a time like this?"
I had to chuckle. "March, there is a row of six little graves in the backyard. I was kind of expecting Dopey to kick it sooner or later."
"Well I wasn't!" she sobbed, throwing herself to her room.
I shrugged and turned on the Playstation. January screamed from the depths of her room then pounded back into the living room.
"I'm going to kill him!" she shouted, beating the stairs on her way down to the basement.
***JANUARY***
I marched right over to the little monster's basket bed and tore out his blankets. He always hid the stuff he took from me under the cushion. Just the thought of his stubby, furry fingers curling over my necklace made my blood boil. I tossed the dirty, red plaid piece of stench from the basket.
"Damnit!"
I flew back upstairs. "Where he is February?" I demanded. "I know you're hiding him somewhere. You and March always hide him from me."
My sister ignored me, her attention glued to her stupid video game.
"Put down that damn controller and tell me where the little freak is!"
February dodged a virtual tree on her virtual snowboard. "He's with God."
"Excuse me?"
She jerked the controller to the left. "He's dead. I found him on the living room floor when I got home." She jerked the controller to the right then slid the snowboard through the finish line. "I guess someone didn't notice his lifeless body when she walked into the house."
"Well isn't this just wonderful! Roger will be here in half an hour expecting that necklace to be around my neck."
February looked at me like my head was a flaming ball of water. "You don't even like Roger so why do you care?"
"His parents are, like, the most important people in town, February. I just can't break up with him."
"You told me he was a boring, conceited moron."
I rolled my eyes and went to the bathroom to look for my necklace. February was such a loser. She didn't understand anything about social circles. She didn't even care! She was always climbing onto my last nerve to jump on it as hard as she could. It was true, Roger was boring, conceited and a complete moron. I didn't like him. Not an ounce, but he had money.
"What are you looking for?"
I shut the medicine cabinet to discover my sister March looking at me with swollen red eyes, holding a dripping wash cloth in her hands.
"What's wrong with you?"
"Dopey died," she sniffed, plastering the wash cloth to her face.
"Yeah, I know. Have you seen the silver necklace that Roger gave me?"
March looked horrified. "Not you too!"
"What? He's died just like all the rest," I said. "What did you think was going to happen?"
***MARCH***
"I don't know how I can even be related to the two of you!"
I turned on a heel and walked back to the living room. February was playing one of her video games. I hated to interrupt her, but I had to see him.
"Where did you hide him?"
She put down the controller and turned off the machine. "Under my bed. Come on." We walked down the hall towards February's room. "Jan! Stop whining about your stupid necklace and get in my room!"
January mumbled some obscenities, but followed me through February's bedroom door.
"Brace yourselves, ladies," February said, reaching under bed, dragging Dopey's body to the middle of the floor.
"Oh my God," January laughed.
"I know," February agreed, suppressing giggles. "I don't know how he got that magazine, but I couldn't pry it from his fingers."
I stared down at Dopey's body. His eyes were almost popping out of their sockets and his mouth was stretched into a capital "O".
"Why is he so stiff?" I finally managed to ask.
My sisters laughed. "March, when boys get excited-" January started to explain.
"I know about that!" I cut her off, disgusted. "But his whole body is stiff, even his tail. He couldn’t be that stiff yet. He was hopping around just fine this morning."
February shrugged. "Just be glad I put his overalls back on. You couldn't have handled that sight, March."
I knelt down beside Dopey and brushed his soft, brown fur with my fingers. He was by far the cutest of daddy's "little men". I would come home from school, or the nursing home or where ever I had been and he was always jumping up and down on the porch waiting for me. On my birthday, he dug up mom's roses and handed them to me roots and all. When my hamster died it was Dopey that hugged me while I cried.
"Did you call mom," I asked.
"She said she'd be home as soon as she could."
I nodded. "What do you think daddy will do?"
"Who knows," February answered. "He was certain he had perfected his recipe this time."
I started crying. Dopey was so sweet, not like Doc at all. Doc always ripped the blankets off my bed. Sneezy was always depressed. Sleepy died after a month so I didn't get a chance to know him. Grumpy was nice, but all he did was play with daddy. Happy was born without feet or hands so he survived as well as a fish in the desert. It was Bashful, the first of daddy's "little men" that was the oddest. He was hyperactive. He ran around the house like a chicken with its head cut off most of the time.
***DOPEY***
The front door opened then shut.
"Dad's home!" our father announced. "Where's my little man?"
The triplets looked at each other.
"Shove him back under the bed!" March hissed.
"I thought mom said she'd be home before him," January grunted, helping February shove me back under the bed.
"I can't help it that he got home early."
The girls rushed out of February's bedroom to greet father. I relaxed and flipped through the copy of Playboy I found in mother's dresser drawer. I couldn't wait for January to empty my litter box.
***
So yeah... That's "Dopey". Also, my "student" never showed up for class. Devastated, I vow to never attempt to "teach" again. I blame my unorthodox methods and the insanity that somehow slips through my filter and actually forms itself into tangible word structures. Stuff like that is what I'm talking about. 
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