Unfinished Smurfs

Chapter 7: A Walk In The Park/Somesmurf To Listen When You Speak/Not Exactly Not-Friends

Most days, when Glasses awoke, he'd go straight to Papa's library and read until somesmurf — usually Mama — made him come back to the house to eat breakfast. He'd learned a long time ago that the sooner he woke up, the more time he'd have until breakfast, and so always bounced out of bed the moment the tiniest bit of sunlight hit his face.

(He'd wake up even sooner, but a little passing-out incident that was hardly his fault had led to a rule that he could only get out of bed once the sun did)

(Pointing out that the sun didn't actually have a bed did not get the rule lifted)

Today, however, he didn't hop into the air and scramble to find his glasses so that he could leave, backpack carelessly thrown over his shoulder as he scrambled out the door. Instead, he scowled and pulled the covers over his head, rolling over to further block out any sunlight that had found its way through the window.

Today wasn't a day he could study, because today was one of the worst days imaginable. He could hear Papa and Mama moving about, already up for a special day like today, and inwardly groaned. Maybe if he was very still, they'd forget he existed and he could just skip the horrid occasion...

"Are you excited for the picnic, sweetie?" Mama asked. He sat up and gave her a flat look, just shy of glaring. She chuckled. "Oh, it's not that bad, Junior."

"It is so," he responded, knowing he sounded childish and whining, but he hardly cared. The monthly Town Picnic Days were his least favorite days ever, and he was going to make his displeasure known. "Can't I smurf home just this once, please?"

"Now now, my little Smurfling," Papa admonished, smiling gently. "Picnic Days are important for community smurfing. We're a vital part of this community, and we have to be there. Besides, you could do with some sunlight, and you can smurf your friends."

"I have no friends," Glasses complained, reluctantly hauling himself up to get ready, namesake groggily slipped onto his face. His voice took on a pleading note as he asked, "Can I at least smurf a book?"

Papa sighed, sharing a meaningful look with Mama. He was sure they must have developed telepathy somehow, with the way they silently communicated like that, and made a mental note to see if there was a book on telepathy in the library.

"Okay, one book," Papa finally said, and Glasses' brain stopped working for a second. They never let him bring books to these things! Before he could get too excited, Papa hurriedly clarified. "One small book, and you still have to participate in something active and talk to other Smurfs. You can't just smurf yourself away all the time, son."

"Of course, Papa!" Glasses agreed, hurrying to pull out his private stash of books and pick a small one. Of course, in his family, small books weren't really that small.

Talk to other Smurfs and join one of those ridiculous physical activities hosted every month — that was easy, and definitely worth it to bring a book to the picnic.

Even if Papa had said he had to join every activity, it would've been worth it. Nothing was worse than going an entire day without reading, after all. Why Papa couldn't get that, despite being an avid reader himself, Glasses didn't think he'd ever understand.

It was a beautiful Spring morning, sun shining with hardly a cloud in the sky, animals of all sorts happily going about their day, flowers blooming in dozens of colors; perfect for a picnic.

Blankets of various sizes and patterns were spread out along a grassy field, a clearing free of trees, with Smurfs busy setting up tables and games between them. Food was everywhere, the sweet scent of berries filling the air, and happy chatter could be heard as the Smurfs worked.

It was Glasses' own personal definition of hell, and he didn't care that his hatred didn't make any sense. There was noise, and idiots, and too much sunlight — nothing was ever enjoyable about these things. But at least he had a book this time.

"Go on and smurf a table," Mama told him, gently pushing him towards the area where the other kids would be sitting. "You don't have to smurf with everysmurf, but try to be a little social. Alright?"

"Yes, Mama," Glasses agreed, wondering how little socialness he could get away with as he trudged over the grass. It wasn't like he had any friends to talk to, after all, and surely he couldn't be expected to exchange more than a few words with kids he barely knew, right?

He found a table at the edge of the area, near enough to a tree to get shade on part of it whilst leaving the rest bathed in sunlight. He carefully sat down on the wooden bench connected to the table, setting his book in front of him but not yet reaching to read it — he wasn't too bored yet, and he needed it to last him the entire day.

He idly let his gaze drift around, ignoring the twitch in his fingers and the itch in his mind that demanded he immerse himself once more in the realm of knowledge. He needed to decide which activity to join, something that wasn't too taxing but would reassure Mama and Papa that he was getting enough exercise.

The race was definitely out, he had no hope of winning, though probably wouldn't quite get last place depending on who else joined. He could do the bean toss, but that wasn't very active, exactly. He'd gotten a bit better at jumping, maybe he could try the hurdles? Of course, he'd just make a fool of himself if he joined the obstacle course, he learned that a long time ago.

His thoughts were soon interrupted by a series of crashes, shouts, and muttered apologies making their way across the field. His face twisted with annoyance, but in his heart he knew it was mostly for show. To himself, and only to himself, he'd admit the familiar sounds lifted his spirits to something more manageable than they had been before.

He looked up just in time to see another Smurfling trip and fall into the grass next to him, barely not spilling the plates of food he'd been carrying (years of practice was the only explanation he could find for how the other managed not to drop them).

"Heya, Glasses!" The Smurfling smiled shyly, his freckled face looking up from the ground. He was as he always was — smaller than most but not overly so, his hat perpetually slipped half over his large eyes, and with an expression that was too open and trusting for his own good.

"Hello, Clumsy," Glasses sighed, reaching down to help the other up and onto the bench. Clumsy was the only Smurfling he knew that already had a name, having had it basically since he could walk, and he'd long ago gotten over his jealousy of that fact.

It was rather hard to stay jealous of a Smurfling so unpopular, destructive, and dimwitted, after all. He caused chaos wherever he went, but was too dopey and friendly to realize just how much everysmurf tried to avoid him because of it. He was a living safety hazard, with the brains of a particularly oblivious caterpillar.

"Ah saw yah didn' have no food yet, so ah smurfed yah some." Clumsy smiled, pushing one of the plates towards him.

Glasses didn't even have to look at the plate to know he would like what was on it. Clumsy may have been a dimwit, but he was as well the only Smurfling that bothered to listen to his rants on food rankings, and had never once brought him something he disliked.

They weren't friends, of course. Clumsy had friends already, miraculously, and Glasses didn't have friends. There was no Smurfling worthy of such a title, certainly not an accident-prone numbskull. Why he even let Clumsy hang out with him was a mystery to Glasses.

"Uh, gee, ah don't think ah've smurfed yah with that book afore." Clumsy pointed to the book Glasses had brought, eyes crinkling in excitement. "What'cha readin' 'bout?"

"'What are you reading about?'," Glasses corrected, holding up the book. And that was his answer, wasn't it? The rest of the Smurflings refused to learn from his wisdom, but Clumsy never stopped asking questions. He didn't ever need to force a conversation with Clumsy, because the other was always willing to listen eagerly to whatever topic he was obsessed with right then.

(Why Clumsy chose to do that instead of sitting with his real friends was yet another mystery, one Glasses didn't have a good answer to yet).

"Fl-flora..." Clumsy's face twisted as he tried to read the title, squinting as he leaned a little closer. Glasses smirked slightly at the habit he knew the other had learned from him. "Uh, Florazoo-logi?"

"Florazoology." Glasses nodded, putting the book back down. "It–"

"Wait, wait!" Clumsy shouted, waving his hands. Glasses frowned, confused because the other was one of the few who never interrupted him, and impatiently waited for him to speak. "Flora! Ah know that, ah think... It means, uh, it means..."

Clumsy started lightly thumping his head with both hands, muttering to himself as he tried to remember. Anysmurf else and Glasses would've already told them the answer, assuming they didn't actually know.

Clumsy, however, did know. A few weeks ago, the walking disaster's excitement over a pretty floral arrangement had prompted an etymology lesson from Glasses. So he already knew, he just had a little trouble with retention and recall.

Glasses leaned back a little, waiting patiently as the other tried to figure it out. Well, 'patiently' might have been the wrong word, but he was managing not to snap at him to hurry it up. Close enough.

"Flora... Plants, flora means plants!" Clumsy snapped his fingers, looking very pleased with himself. Then he slumped a little, suddenly unsure. "Uh, right?"

"Very good, Clumsy!" Glasses praised, genuinely pleased. Okay, alright, he was rather fond of the natural disaster. But that hardly made them friends. It was more of a mentor-student thing, since Clumsy was the only Smurfling interested in learning anything from him. "Now zoology, on the other smurf, has to do with the study of fauna — animals."

"Plant animals?" Clumsy asked, giggling. "That's funny."

"Florazoology is the study of Floric Fauna and Faunic Flora," Glasses started into a long rant about the topic he'd barely begun studying, pausing occasionally to nibble on a piece of food or other. Most of the science he talked about were direct quotes from his book or Papa, but a few things were gaps he'd inferred and figured out on his own.

He knew Clumsy didn't understand most of what he said, despite the way the other Smurfling leaned in eagerly and paid attention to every word. Out of what he did understand, Glasses doubted he'd retain any of it. But once in a while he did actually learn something, like with flora, and that – for a reason Glasses hadn't smurfed out yet – made it quite worth it.

Well that and the opportunity to talk to somesmurf outside his family without bored yawns, eye rolls, or requests to shut up, that was.

Sometime later, when most of the other tables had been filled and Glasses had almost forgotten his hatred of that particular day, his speech finally wound down. Despite popular belief, he could indeed run out of things to say, and was content to enjoy a peaceful silence as he finished his food. 

"Gee, y're really smart," Clumsy said after a few moments, like he usually did. He played around with his food, not really eating it, looking off to the side. "Um, uh, Glasses?"

"Yes, Clumsy?" He watched as the other frowned nervously, not meeting his eye, stammering too much to speak. Glasses sighed, letting his concern filter out as annoyance. "Clumsy, speak up, I can't undersmurf you when you mumble like that."

"...d'yah wanna hear 'bout a cool rock ah found?" Clumsy asked quietly, twirling his fork around with his fingers until he accidentally poked himself and dropped it. "Ah mean, uh, it's alright if yah don' want to, o'course. Clever guy like yah probably has more important things ta smurf 'bout than mah silly rocks – jus' forget 'bout it."

Glasses usually ignored other Smurfs unless he was trying to teach them something or make them understand how intelligent he was, but there were a few things he noticed. Now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure he'd overheard Clumsy saying something about rocks to the other Smurflings a few times.

He was also pretty sure they hadn't been very interested in it. Truthfully, Glasses wasn't very interested either. He doubted Clumsy had any scientific knowledge, certainly not any that he himself did not already possess, and would probably just ramble about its color or something. He did indeed have far more important things to think about, like his book or which activity to join.

"Sure, Clumsy, I'd love to smurf about your rock." Glasses smiled, enjoying the way Clumsy's entire demeanor changed. Instead of nervous and meek, he was suddenly bright and excited, grinning as he started describing a fairly plain-sounding rock.

It was grey and round, but with this one little chip that was sharp and could cut you if you weren't careful — he'd discovered that the hard way. He'd found it right outside his house, by the garden. Its name was Gerald, and it dreamed of flying someday. It was apparently very sensitive, so Clumsy was unsure how to break the news that rocks couldn't fly to it. Every day he checked to see if it had grown wings, even though he knew it couldn't, just to keep from snuffing out its hopes.

Glasses listened to and retained every inane detail, smile never leaving his face, occasionally making an interested sound or exclamation. It was boring and nonsensical, but he acted as if it was as fascinating as his own lectures. And he had a million excuses why it was practical to throw out a bone every once in a while, keep the only Smurfling willing to listen to him happy, how this was actually a selfish move.

Honestly, though, he just knew how it felt to finally have somesmurf listen to you, even when they couldn't really understand what you were talking about.

He and Clumsy weren't friends. Clumsy had other friends, and Glasses didn't do friendship. But maybe Glasses could admit, to himself and only himself, that they weren't exactly not-friends either.