My name is Sugary, and I am one of Nicky and Vicky's many children. I'm not the oldest, not the strongest, and definitely not the quietest, but I'm the one Mommy trusted with an important assignment today: stalk Daddy.
She didn't use softer words like "follow" or "watch." She said stalk, very clearly, the way she says someone's name before a kill order.
I am almost two years old, which in my species means I can walk, talk, climb walls, and bypass most forms of digital security without thinking about it. That's why I'm typing this. I didn't break into anything; I simply slipped through one of Mommy's accounts.
She has a lot of them—layers on layers, like candy shells—so I picked the one that let me post the fastest. That's normal behavior where I'm from.
I'm an alien baby from a planet where people are born with candy-based abilities, and if that sounds ridiculous to you, that is because your world is soft and under-seasoned. On my planet, power tastes sweet, and children learn to weaponize themselves before they can pronounce their own names.
How do I know all this?
Because by the time we're around nine months old, that's when my species starts processing information at full speed. Memory, logic, threat assessment—everything clicks into place like snapping sugar shards.
Mommy and Daddy were on a mission and a vacation on my planet when they chose to adopt me. I was happy the moment I realized it. I was also a little worried, because Mommy gave off this scary, storm-in-her-eyes vibe, and Daddy gave off a less scary but still serious warrior-and-tree vibe.
So yes, I can type. Yes, I can track Daddy through a resort full of slashers. And yes, Mommy approved this. Some things you just don't question when you're part of a Hasher household.
But Mommy still makes sure to put extra parent locks on everything. She says that just because I can process information like an adult doesn't mean I'm allowed to see everything an adult sees. There are missions, reports, images, and whole folders of redacted nightmares she keeps off-limits.
I call that child protection boot cheeks.
Heheh.
I said a bad word.
Boot cheeks.
Anyway, the mission…
So yes, I can type. Yes, I can track Daddy through a resort full of slashers. And yes, Mommy approved this. Some things you just don't question when you're part of a Hasher household.
But Mommy still makes sure to put extra parent locks on everything. She says that just because I can process information like an adult doesn't mean I'm allowed to see everything an adult sees. There are missions, reports, images, and whole folders of redacted nightmares she keeps off-limits.
I call that child protection boot cheeks.
Heheh.
I said a bad word.
Boot cheeks.
Anyway—this mission didn't start because I wanted to go. It started because Mommy taught me another rule: you can take whatever payment you want, but never work for free. Even with family. Well… mostly never. Mommy says the rule "depends," but that just makes it sound even more important.
So you're probably wondering what Mommy had to bargain with to make me stalk Daddy today.
It wasn't tech.
It wasn't candy cores.
It wasn't shiny gadgets.
It was permission to draw in the rooms we aren't normally allowed to draw in—the fancy kitchen walls and the clean bathroom tiles. The forbidden art zones. The places Mommy protects like holy relics.
That was enough for me.
Payment accepted.
Deal complete.
When Daddy carried me out to the car, he had already pinned my favorite stuffed toy to my shirt. I don't know why grown-ups do that. I like to throw things when I'm done with them, especially toys. But they keep pinning it there "so I don't lose it." Losing things is part of the fun, if you ask me.
Daddy buckled me into the car seat, leaned close, and asked, "Sugary, sweet candy baby… why did you want to come along today?"
And I told him the toddler truth.
"Cuz Sugary wanna be wif Daddy today."
He didn't argue. He just sighed—one of those quiet grown-up sighs that sinks into the air like a tired thought. When I looked into his eyes, he seemed worn down in a way I didn't fully understand. Heavy, like he was carrying something invisible.
So I reached into my pocket and gave him my pacifier. The good one. The one with the sugar crystal handle. I put it right in his hand because that's what you do when someone looks tired: you give them the thing that helps you feel better.
Daddy blinked, then smiled that soft Daddy smile, the one that melts right into your chest and makes your heart go fizzy. He tucked my tablet into my lap like it was a shield and kissed the top of my head.
Daddy started the car, and I turned on my favorite game. That was when a strange man slipped inside, and Daddy said something sharp in Spanish. I can't repeat it. He called the man Ex-Boss Azertoahl, but I just think of him as Daddy's old boss.
They spoke in a language I didn't know—quiet, tense, careful.
So I opened my spy game, the one connected to my secret cameras. Daddy helped me build the system, but I added a few upgrades of my own.
That's when I saw it.
Something outside the window.
Still.
Watching.
Familiar in the wrong way.
It reminded me of the story Mommy told about their resort mission—the ghost or whatever it was that sat in a time-out corner until she told it goodbye… and it thanked her. I didn't see it then, but the feeling of it stayed with me.
Now it was on my camera, clearer than before.
I tried to delete the feed, but Daddy's old boss suddenly took my tablet. I must have made unhappy noises, because he kept whispering words I didn't understand.
Then the thing entered the car.
I went very still.
Daddy drove faster.
Daddy's old boss covered my eyes.
But I could still hear it.
"Thank you… thank you…"
Over and over, soft like breathing.
Daddy's old boss answered just as quietly, "You're welcome…"
as if something terrible would happen if he didn't.
Daddy tried to stay calm for me.
His voice trembled when he said,
"Sugary… remember the game of I Spy?"
My stuffed toy—pinned to my shirt—began to glow.
Light gathered around me, warm and sweet, and suddenly I lifted out of the seat. The glow carried me away from the creature.
But it followed.
It reached me gently, almost kindly, and held me as if rocking a baby to sleep.
I could hear Daddy calling my name, but the world was getting fuzzy. The creature kept thanking someone, and I couldn't tell who. My eyes closed without my permission.
When I woke up, Mommy was there.
She struck the creature so hard the room shook. Daddy held me close. Daddy's old boss murmured an apology, and Mommy's voice turned sharp as ice when she answered him.
They said many things I did not understand.
Mommy took me home afterward.
She let us draw on the forbidden walls, just like she promised.
It helped a little.
But even now, when I close my eyes,
I can still hear it whisper:
"Thank you."