DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is the property of Paramount. No money is being made from this and if it were I'd probably laugh my head off.
DEDICATED: To the terrible teens ... thank God I'm not still twelve.
From the Diary of Miral Torres-Paris
Valentine's Day is stupid!!!
First Morton Brigham, the sleaze, tries to give me some mangy bit of red paper covered in glitter and shaped like a human female's most private parts. Which is bad enough, believe me. But then mum and dad got all stupid and mushy. Gross!!!!!!
Ms Cragen called mum to the Principal's office to moan about how I was an unruly element and a danger to the state of the whole Federation or some such rubbish - just because I cut off Morton's hair with a laser scalpel and glued the stupid red paper thing to his head, that woman has no sense of humour, it's probably because she's so old. Anyway, old Craggie Cragen started giving mum the 'Spawn of Satan' speech when all of a sudden my mum giggled!
I mean at first I thought it was some kind of Klingon growl thing that signal a level of displeasure I hadn't managed to invoke up until then, which would have been fine, I'm not scared of her. Or at least I didn't think I was. Then I recognised the sound for what it was, a giggle. That scared the shit outta me (and that's not swearing, that's biologically true mother, just in case you start sneaking looks at my diary - which you better not be!!!).
I'm not saying that mum doesn't laugh. Hell I've seen her laugh so hard she's wet herself and with a Klingon's constitution that's damn hard to do. But giggling, that's something else entirely. Janet M'lar'C giggles, and she's about as empty headed as you can get outside of my goldfish Trevor. That Delaney creature used to giggle too, just before she'd try and get my dad to show her around the upstairs of our new quarters, for the eighth time. I don't want my mum turning into an idiot or a...a slut (and that's a valid word too mum, I heard Aunt Kathryn use it to describe dad the Christmas before last... okay, so she'd been at the brandy again, but it's still valid).
Well to make matters worse, and believe me I thought that was impossible, old Cragan starts tittering alongside her - I think I'll need to visit the Doctor's holographic psychiatric simulation for a decade to recover from that one. Naturally being the honest and responsible student that I am I tried to put an end to the madness by reminding them that Morton was still hairless and attached to a red paper hat. Do you know what happened? Do you!!!!
My mother. The woman who single handedly with her crew (multi-handedly? Oh who cares) saved Voyager from becoming a floating piece of designer scrap. Patted me on the head and continued giggling.
I'm adopted. I know I am.
Eventually we get home and I make it to the sanctity of my room and away from mum's continued deterioration, when I get a holo-vid message from dad. Finally someone with a little sense - okay so I was reaching, but after seeing my mum and old Cragan acting like brainless barbies, I was feeling a little desperate.
I should have known dad would only make matters worse. It's not that I don't love him or think he's a great guy, but I'm old enough now to realise that he can be a bit of a jerk. What I hadn't realised before was that he could also be a simpering jerk.
Since mum chucked him out of our quarters when I was four, I've gotten used to dad bringing by a parade of clueless women. They'd sit by his side and try and talk to me in their simpering voices and all the while dad would beam at me and pat them on the knee encouragingly. They never lasted long. One visit, two at the most, and dad would arrive with another specimen on his arm. I didn't mind. He only brought the women about once in every four visits and even then he made sure to make me the centre of attention - which is just natural if you ask me, although mum tries to make out like he spoils me rotten. But over the last year that's changed. The stream of women have disappeared and now when he comes he's invariably with Uncle Harry. It was odd, but I love Uncle Harry so I just basked in the fun.
But now dad's looking out at me from the holo-vid and asking my opinion on whether or not he should serenade Harry with an old Barry White song, and didn't I think Uncle Harry had the sweetest soul and the dreamiest eyes. I think I'm gonna be sick!!! Don't get me wrong, it's great that dad and Uncle Harry are together, it really is, but does that really mean my father has to turn into a besotted idiot? Having a parent fascinated with the most dire century in Earth's history was embarrassing enough, but one who insists on asking me to help him pick out a teddy bear for his boyfriend was beyond a joke.
Eventually we settled on a stuffed blue bear carrying a tiny clarinet. How humiliating, I hope to Kahless that Marsha and Prooleni never find out.
So that's one parent reduced to a simpering, 'do you think he'll like the bear? Do you really? Truly?' and another who was last seen giggling over a secret data padd. Did I say how much I hate Valentine's Day? It just sucks!
After a couple of hours I went down stairs to the kitchen for something to eat and nearly lost my appetite for the rest of my natural born life. There on the kitchen table, for all the world to see, was my mother decorating a big white cake with red iced kisses. I've gone to Hell and there are skipping Klingons in it.
So mum is officially insane. That's okay, I can handle it, I'll just call Naomi Wildman and ask her to section mum to the same facility where they keep Uncle Chakotay. It'll be nice for them both, to have a friendly face at the madhouse - yes mother, I know I'm not meant to call it that, but you're insane so what do I care!
The door chimes and my mum squeals in excitement and panic and hurries me off to answer it - which as far as I was concerned was as good a way as any to escape the surrealism of it all.
Watching that door whoosh open was like being handed a miracle on a silver platter. Seven! The always rational, always understanding, saviour of my sanity. God, I thought, if Seven couldn't sort things out I might as well just pack up all my belongings and catch the first shuttle to la-la-land.
Seven did not giggle. Seven did not simper. And Seven most certainly did not skip around the kitchen planting icing kisses on oversized fairy cakes. I thought about asking her to adopt me.
Seven has been a regular visitor to our house for the last three years. She and my mum were friends years ago on Voyager, although they do tend to smirk when they mention the friends part. Anyway, Seven went on some long range mission not long after they first got back to Earth and no-one saw her again for another eight years. Then all of a sudden she's back and Aunt Kathryn is holding this massive welcome home party for her and even Uncle Chakotay is let out of the nuthou... sanatorium long enough to attend. She was an impressive sight, what with her flowing blonde hair and body that seemed to do weird things to my dad's powers of concentration. I liked her because she played kadis kot with me and told me a story about a young girl and a dragon named George. I didn't see her again for another six months, but I think mum had been visiting her, because when Seven started coming round they were much friendlier than they had been at the party. Much friendlier.
Seven started to talk to me about school and my latest science project to make my teachers invisible, but I cut her off to explain about the weirdness that had taken over my day. She listened intently, as always, and asked me a few pointed questions before nodding her head wisely. God she's amazing! Didn't I tell you she'd fix everything? Okay, so maybe I didn't use those exact words but it was implied, sheesh, everyone's a critic.
Carefully Seven explained to me that she'd come across this phenomena before and that I was lucky in so far as it only lasted for twenty-four hours - which was a good thing really, because I'd miss mum if she was in the sanatorium for a long while. She explained that it was all connected to Valentine's Day and part of a strange cultural programming that had obviously been exacerbated (I dunno either, but I nodded anyway) by the time my parents had spent in the Delta Quadrant and dating each other.
I was relieved. Twenty-four hours was child's play. If I could handle singing lessons with the Doctor, I could handle another four or five hours of my mum being a psycho.
What I couldn't handle, and will never get over, is what happened next.
Mum finally emerged from the kitchen; her clothes, hair and makeup immaculate, and says hello to Seven in this really weird voice - kind of low and, hell, I think she might have been purring. Which was odd enough, but par for the course when your mum's temporarily insane, but it's nothing compared to what happened then. Seven of Nine, my rock in a sea of love-sick puppies, blushed to the roots of her golden hair and sighed like a braindead cheerleader.
Naturally I order 'end program' thinking I'd wandered into some weird holo-program, but no arch appeared and my mum and Seven continued to move around freely. In fact they kind of collided in the centre of the room where more giggling was heard before the two of them began making out. Gross!!!!!!!!!!! Do they not realise that sensitive teenagers are in the room? Oh God! Now they're looking at me as if I'm a cute little kitten. I know some huggie-feelie moment is just seconds away.
I hate Valentine's Day!!!!!
So mum and Seven are a couple. Great! Fantastic! Couldn't be happier! But why the hell do they have to include me in all their sweet declarations of love and harmony? I mean I'm not a kid, I'm not gonna get all bummed out of shape because my mum's found someone. I think it's great, I really do, it'll mean mum will be far too busy doing couple-y stuff to watch me as closely as she used to. But why in Kahless' name do I have to sit here while they hold hands and tell me between the giggles about how they fell in love almost the moment Seven returned to Earth but had been afraid to say anything to each other until a month ago. I mean, do I really need to know all this crap? I think I'm suffering from sugar overload.
Finally I escape their saccharine clutches and make my escape to my room. I made the mistake of looking back as I reached the stairs and let me just tell you that seeing one of your idols with her hand inside your mother's shirt and tongue down her throat is not something you want to witness until you're old enough to drink.
Yep, it's official, Valentine's Day sucks.
I hope to God I'm not like that when I grow up.
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