"What the fuck are you?" he grunts, rolling over onto his side and blinking.
You realize you liked him better when he was asleep, and now you are suddenly growing a little annoyed with him. "I'm the person that saved you, you dummy," you say tartly.
He sniffs, his lip curling with disgust. "Oh, my god. OH, my GOD!" he shouts, coughing and sneezing. "Ugh! What's that horrific odor? Eww!" He starts spitting as if he might be able to get the smell out by spitting, and he sneezes violently.
"You get used to it," you say flatly. "Or just sort of resigned," you admit, dropping your eyes and remembering how you felt once.
He shakes his head, his face scrunched in disgust and no longer looking so boyish or attractive. "No way am I getting used to that. It's horrible!" His accent sounds sort of English, you think.
"I said get used to it!" you snap. You realize that you find men to be horribly annoying, sometimes. Were you ever that annoying when you were a man? Embarrassing.
"I'm trying!" he says, sitting on his rump, with his legs sprawled-out, and wiping his nose pitifully with the back of his arm.
He looks so funny to you this way, you find him winning you over again in a different, more earthy sort of way, and you giggle a little bit. "Well, it likely saved your life," you say, failing to suppress your smile.
Just then, he takes in what he's seeing, and gasps in shock, backing away with his jaw dropped and his eyes popping open. "Dear God. That butterfly blasted me to some African jungle Hell. I'm dead or hallucinating while dying."
"A butterfly?" you ask archly. "I've never heard of butterflies exploding like that bomb did."
He sighs, dropping his head to the side impatiently. "A butterfly bomb," he explains. "They send shrapnel flying everywhere." He grits his teeth grimly, and he growls, "Nothing else is quite like a Hun."
You shrug, knowing your own people have created and used worse, and half of them still thought they had the approbation of God Almighty. You say nothing, and you think that might be wise for the moment. "Well, I don't know if it's registered with you, but you're not quite any race, for right now, that you're familiar with.
He is taken aback. "What do you mean?" He looks down at himself, and he screams, sticking out his leg to the side and looking at himself. "What? What is this?"
"It's from when I sprayed you."
"You WHAT???"
"Well, it was an accident, and I accidentally changed you, which I didn't mean to do just yet." This is going downhill, you realize.
"What do you mean, JUST YET??" he yelps. "You mean you were planning on mutilating me like this, and you are sorry that you did it before you had planned on doing it?"
"I might have been sorry for doing it, anyhow," you admit. "I really sort of have to because, if I didn't do that and the rest of what I'm supposed to do, I have to leave, although I am not sure where. I think most of us end up going there eventually, though, although most of us are scared of it."
"It sounds like this is some dreadful purgatory," he says. "That's what this is, then. It's purgatory. This is supposed to cleanse me of my sins or some shit like that, and I'm not even a Papist."
"Papist?" you inquire.
"I'm sorry," he says hastily, seeming to fear he's offended you, rather than just confusing you. "I didn't realize you were Catholic." He wrings his paws together. "Or maybe we both are now," he adds in a small voice.
You scrunch your face. "I'm afraid you are mistaken, sir," you say to him. "I never had such beliefs before I got here, and now, I'm not sure WHAT to believe. For all I know, this is Heaven, or it's pleasant, anyhow. For me to stay here, though, I have to make sure you finish becoming one of us."
He looks himself over, and he snaps, "Well, I suppose that's done, then. Can I leave this nightmare, now?" He looks around and calls out at the trees. "Hello? God? Can you hear me? I have learned my lesson. I realize that I have been bad. I repent everything right now. I swear I have. I want to be a good boy, but MY UNIT IS IN TROUBLE, sir. They need my help a whole lot, and I am very worried for them. If it would please you, may I go back to my old life long enough to figure out their dilemma, and THEN I can quietly hop the twig after that? Please?" He kneels and shakes his laced-together double-fist at the silent canopy. "Pretty please?" he adds with a squeak.
"Calm down, man," you say with disgust. "It sounds like you've left a war-zone, and now you're in paradise, or at least it's a well-furnished waiting-room for whatever else there might be. That's a positive change of fortunes, I would imagine. Now, if you would please..."
"GET ME OUT OF HERE!"