Entry S1: The Family Trip

(Trigger Warning: Self-Harm, Disgusting Imagery/Topics)

Ew, humans, ew. Remind me why in hell I had to see these creatures again? Oh, because some idiot released us. Yes. Idiot. How stupid could someone be to open a box that clearly wasn’t meant to be opened? Was his prefrontal cortex damaged? Maybe that was for the best. It wasn’t like humans would use it anyway.

The humans breathing and slithering in my essence did have some perks, depending on how you looked at it. On the one hand, I was forced to immerse myself in them. Think about living in a clogged toilet stall, but worse. On the other hand, maybe I could enlighten them about what disgusting and lowly vermin they always have been. I doubted the practicality of the plan. Did I mention how stupidly stubborn humans are? Well, it is a point worth repeating.

They forget things so frequently that they might need this point written on their eyelids. At least then, when they blink, they would subconsciously be primed instead of relying on their laughable reasoning thoughts.

Let’s see. The Morales family. Was their family name meant to be ironic? Nope. I always find the word ‘morality’ useless. Why set a standard that humans could never achieve? At most, they would move the goalposts and claim to be saints. But I had rambled too much, carrying on.

Alejandro had always prided himself on being a dedicated father. Arrogant much? He has a ‘beautiful’ wife (humans all looked the same to me, like differently shaped feces) named Lucia. And a ‘mature’ daughter (his words, not mine), Beatriz. And he got the cliché idea of going on a family trip for bonding or something, as if the daughter wouldn’t leave them the moment she got a job.

So, Mexico, what ‘fun’ activities did Alejandro have in mind? Would it be Hierve el Agua? A majestic set of rocks carved by nature, though defiled by human tourism, was still holy and awe-inspiring, as if one were before a god. Would it be Laguna de Bacalar? Where nature declares that creativity can persist everywhere, that uniform color was a guideline more than a rule for the divine sea?

Nope, a goddamn resort in Cancun. That was where they ended up. For what? Cheap prices. “Look at the deal! We can’t spare that much money for a trip now, but this is a great destination.” Alejandro used his mouth-hole to spew these discordant sounds to his wife, somehow convincing her to get on board. Give me a break. Were they gonna smash genitals next to construct another demon spawn?

“We should vlog our trip. Something new to try. Ey?” What’s next? Uploading it online to milk your family for Internet attention? The daughter had a similar reaction. A shameful blush and avoidance of eye contact with her father. But this guy, this dimwit, somehow thought that the daughter approved and was excited by this blatant exhibitionism.

Alejandro took the first video at the airport. There wasn’t anything to film. He didn’t even point at the high ceilings and crowds of intersecting journeys, but at himself, his wife, and his daughter, plainly walking. I had seen fly copulation more interesting than this atrocity.

His wife humored him with some poses when the phone camera pointed at her. Dancing at the mercy of producing a pattern of light that could be captured by electronic signals? I had misspoken; this phrasing wasn’t accurate. It was way too generous.

It was the behavior of whores.

Beatriz was having none of it, clutching her own travel bag. From the outside in, it would seem like she and her parents were complete strangers. I would understand a sense of disgust, but that wasn’t her primary feeling.

It was a bottomless void. A vacuum that emptied all emotions. Her face looked as if on default settings, an obvious sign of her sorrow.

“Beatriz, cariño. Smile for the camera! We are going on a vacation! Woo!” Alejandro tried to infect his daughter with joy, but like all other pathogens, the act was despicable and psychotic. He should be quarantined in a psy ward for that stunt.

Beatriz countered his insensitive remark with a fake smile. One that Alejandro couldn’t decode amidst the putrid, jolly atmosphere that he created for himself.

***

The resort they stayed at had great food; if only there weren’t this many humans around, one might have a better appetite. To my bafflement, they could eat with no hesitation. The power of habituation was truly impressive, only that could be the reason humans could bear ingesting food while inhabiting their disgusting meat sacks called a body.

Beatriz got the idea of not eating, but for impure reasons; the loss of appetite stemmed from her mood. Her parents could only react in the only way they knew how, the only way humans knew how: insensitivity.

“Eat a bit more. You don’t want to become one of those anorexic girls, do you?” Alejandro made his futile point. The argument was nowhere near logical. And him directing his camera at Beatriz didn’t help.

What is this? A performative mukbang? She needed to be pumped with at least fifty more kilos of slimy fat first.

“Boys won’t find those bony girls attractive, so come on, eat.” Lucia also chimed in. Forgetting that conventional beauty finds any traces of lipid in a woman, except in the breast and gluteus maximus area, to be on the level of moldy cheese. Personally, I wouldn’t put the word ‘beauty’ on the same planet as humans, but that was just my opinion. An opinion that still weighed heavier than those of apes that got a little lucky with natural selection (I’m talking about humans, if it wasn’t obvious).

“I said I’m not hungry.” Beatriz lay on the table, face down, so as to avoid her parents’ endless conversation, with the added bonus of not having to look at any other humans, but I doubted she cared about that.

The family ate the rest of dinner in awkward silence. Needless to say, Alejandro still tried to push the vlog angle, only to give up after five minutes of nothing. I thought his ugly stubbornness wouldn’t let him stop; guess he was more spineless than I thought.

In the following few days, they remained in the resort and never set foot outside. Trapped with the other sweaty, mushy, and squishy bodies. The torture was somehow acceptable to these masochists. Though, Beatriz kept herself in the room.

“We already paid for it, might as well use the amenities,” Lucia suggested.

“Stop bothering me!” Beatriz rolled into a ball, truly looking like a turd.

“Don’t talk to your mother like that, young lady.” Alejandro joined in the berating.

“Whatever… You two have fun or something… Just leave me alone.”

“Cheer up a little. We’re on vacation. Leave the worries back at home!” Alejandro had to open his lip flaps again. Being an expert on making things worse, he should have cut off his tongue and sold it, and still no one would have bought it because of its poor quality.

Silence followed afterwards, raising the question of whether Beatriz was still awake. Spoilers, she was, but only wallowing in her shame. Justified shame, might I add, for being human.

“We will be going, Beatriz. We will leave you here alone.” Alejandro tried to bluff his way to get Beatriz to follow them. It failed, of course. The same way that human sacrifices didn’t stop diseases from spreading. Because of the lack of rationality, obvious paths to failure didn’t prevent humans from taking them.

At least Alejandro and Lucia went to take part in a few of the activities; their minds stayed back in the room the whole time, on their brooding daughter, screaming signs of helicopter parents. Alejandro wasn’t even in the mood to record anything.

***

They planned a beach day, of course. Guy wanted to leer at his wife’s gyatt (translation: do I have to? Human slang is just so low-level). Oh, and they forced their daughter to buy a swimsuit too before the trip. Lucia brought Beatriz to the lingerie shop, ‘graciously’ helping her to pick out a bikini. Yes, Beatriz was only fifteen, had only just had her quinceañera (another can of worms I wouldn’t touch on).

The parents dared to have good intentions, thinking that a nice outfit could help their daughter with the boys. Not noticing the subtle grimaces from Beatriz. Not noticing that Beatriz was lying when she said that she liked her swimsuit and wanted to show it off. Not noticing Beatriz’s general facial expressions had been flat and stiff for quite a period already.

Beatriz had been refusing to wear her swimsuit for a long time; today was no different, because it would expose the scars on her arm. Self-inflicted wounds. Yes, and as her parents, they had no idea. It was so obvious from the way she never wore a top, and that was when human teenagers love showing off their shoulders.

“Are you unwell? Do you want us to cancel going to the beach?” Alejandro still acted like he was a caring father, when his question only served to guilt-trip his daughter.

His daughter forced a smile. “You two have fun. I must be in the way, right?”

“No. No. You’re not in the way. But… if you really want to stay here…” Lucia added in. Holy crap. I almost forgot how much I hated this woman’s voice. In fact, all female voices sounded much too sharp for me, no different from the screeching of a blackboard.

After getting confirmation from their daughter, they left her alone in the hotel room and went outside. Let’s be honest, in the conversation, part of Alejandro’s mind flew to his wife’s gyatt. Absolutely despicable, he was talking to your daughter. How could humans have had no control over the automatic processes in their brains?

Alejandro held the hand of his wife, a little too tight, I might add. What an insecure asshole. He stopped near the hotel lift, spotting a woman crying at the other end of the corridor.

Her presence was faint, but Alejandro had to ruin my plans by noticing her. I deliberately picked a plain-looking one that would cry silently when she was sad, and made it so her crypto investment tanked, all so she would cry around the resort, as one of the many crying women that would act as an ironic element for later. Well, the preparations were all tainted thanks to Alejandro.

“I think we should stay with Beatriz,” he said, while part of his mind still stayed on his wife’s gyatt (I wanted to vomit just saying the word). Disgraceful. He was thinking about… ass while talking about his daughter. He might as well have committed incest, because that was what I felt he had done.

The husband and wife returned to the hotel room. Tapping their cards and nudging the door open, like any other time they did it. But this time, it was distinct. Beatriz slumped on the hotel bed, red-handed with a razor blade in one hand, her other arm exposed, revealing the scars from varying time frames in the past.

No one knew how to react. They would have if they were smarter. But they were all just mindless monkeys. And these monkeys soon would break the peace and quiet.

“What are you doing?” Lucia shouted. Oh. It was that high-pitched nightmare again. Could she shut up for a second?

Beatriz tried hiding the razor blade, but Alejandro was quicker, dashing to her and snatching the blade away. Not a care that he was doing it with his bare hands. It always amazed me how impulsive humans are.

“What? What?” He could only mutter the same words, his mind overloaded. Yeah, he was guilt-tripping his daughter more.

Sure enough, his daughter collapsed into tears. Nice job. “I’m so sorry, Papa. I’m sorry. I’ll try to be happier. Don’t be sad. I don’t want to ruin the vacation that you looked forward to for so long.”

Alejandro dropped the blade, his hand still bleeding (yuck). And he put his unsanitized hand around her daughter for a hug. Snot and tears oozed out, an unseemly display for a man. “Don’t be sorry. Don’t be sorry. I…” He couldn’t find the right words. His limited brain capacity couldn’t comprehend her suffering.

Lucia joined in the group hug, like something of a parasite. She patted her daughter on the head, without asking for consent, I might add. “Mi hija, it’s fine. We love you. And we are… we are sorry that we failed you. I…” She broke down in tears, unable to express herself. I’d rather her not speak, so I welcome this development, though the fluids out of her face-holes were foul as always.

What I didn’t want to watch was how long the three of them were hugging. Somehow, they were all neglecting how vile it was for the parents to have noticed their daughter’s depression so late. They understand humans so little that it reminded me of how humans used to justify slavery. The ignorance was of the same bitter flavor.

“Should we go home? We can… talk about this more.” Alejandro broke the silence.

“But…” Beatriz lowered her head; her heart sank again. Thanks, Alejandro.

“Everything else doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you are hap… I meant for you to feel… comfortable.” If his intentions were truly pure, he should have said this in the first place.

Lucia had to encourage him. Nodding. She didn’t speak at least; that was a start. Beatriz was silent, but eventually, she let out a muted ‘okay’.

***

They really left the resort soon after, packing in no time to catch the flight that Alejandro had rescheduled. Beatriz had a long nap in the air-conditioned tranquility of the plane, leaning on Lucia’s shoulder. Alejandro checked the bit of footage they had of their vlog. And he found the Easter egg I planted in each of the clips: a crying woman in the background.

I was hoping that in the event of their daughter offing herself. The parents would look back at their family footage and notice the irony, so they would finally feel disgusted with themselves for not noticing the signs. Well, what did I expect? Humans ruin everything, even a chance at enlightenment. But it didn’t matter; failure meant little. There were plenty of hagfish in the sea.

I can never get the investments in humans that the others have. It is like rooting for maggots to devour a piece of rotten pork; actually, that might be more scientifically rewarding than believing in these repetitive and doomed humans. But who am I to stop the others from playing with those metaphorical boogers? Human infants will do it without question.