Work Text:
One day, Mordecai received a piece of mail that was blank. No set sender, and neither a recipient either. Just a envelope that enclosed some folded piece of paper, a verification that took a nice shake from Mordecai. He wouldn’t normally receive something anonymous. If this was a threat then he’d know. But there was nothing inferable from what little he could note about what could be inside.
Eventually, after some brainstorming on what to do (that made little progress), and further thinking on who could have sent this untraceable delivery, eventually he finally got the courage (that he would tell you he DEFINITELY had the WHOLE time!) to end the mental tease and open to see what's happening.
Mordecai unfolded the note, and without thinking, immediately opened to read these words out loud:
Mordecai, minion man
He does all minion can
Mordecai, minion man
He entrusts to any plan.
Mordecai suddenly put down the paper after finishing. There was nothing funny with that smug poem they placed in—
It was Rocky.
Mordecai looked to the bottom to see Rocky's self-illustrated, charming little diminutive form, smacked at the bottom, waving happily, albeit quite sneer at the moment given the circumstances.
Just one of my test poems.
Mordecai placed his hand over his face. He, out of all people, was one of the ones he made a poem for? He had to be the subject, the test dummy to his incorrigible and deviant daily conducts?
“Unbelievable…”
Although Mordecai was quite perplexed on Rocky’s mindless and certainly provocative anecdote, he knew that being betwixt in his sort of literary style would be unreasonable to decipher a context from yet. And so, despite numerous reasons not to, he continued:
Mordecai, minion man.
He is small, but be weary when
he takes anger, or pain again
Mordecai, murder man.
And he thought “serious-face” would be the biggest insult to his intellect since he left.
Mordecai, murder man.
He is smart, like I sure am!
Not.
But now no one understands me here?
Why did you have to disappear?
Mordecai had to re-read what Rocky was writing. Rocky had lots of people left in his life to talk to. But only he could understand his immense and profound vocabulary. He’d relaxed his intent to speak in unintelligible volumes so most could understand what he’d say. But around Rocky, his true savancy could bloom, and he could read it in Rocky that he appreciated it too.
Mordecai, how long it’s been…
Hope we can see eye to eye again
Not in threat, but in happy lands.
Mordecai, handsome man :)
Mordecai spit out the tea he was drinking, and coughed for a while until he looked again. He was surprised. Very. But there was some sort of antithesis to how he felt about him deep inside. The only thing Mordecai had yet to understand, despite his boundless search for a normal qualification to identify himself under this subject, was love. The portion of his psyche he left behind, in his urge towards regularity, and equilibrium with the common man, resurfaced above, in a rosy haze that seemed to radiate from his face.
”No… no. No.”
Mordecai hastily placed the letter back inside its envelope, and placed it quickly into a drawer, before closing it and leaving him back where he was from earlier. Physically.
Mordecai wouldn’t understand what this truly meant to him, but there was a quality he lacked in life, and he thought it would be untouched. But he felt different today. Maybe later he’d gain some insight on what this odd “feeling” was.