In Odium
(or, On Hatred)
A Thursday Prompt story
© 2024 by Walter Reimer

Prompt: dislike


“Non amo te, Sabidi, nec possum dicere quare;
Hoc tantum possum dicere, non amo te.

I do not love you, Sabidius, the reason I cannot tell;
This only I can say – I dislike you very well.”

-- Marcus Valerius Martialis, 1st Century AD



The Muse watched as I switched off the television and clicked away from a certain website. I like to multitask; it keeps my brain supple.

Yes, Brains. The Wonder Head Filler.

The Muse had adopted a new aspect, that of a futanari otter with a sunny disposition and a ready smile. She lolled in the half-full bathtub but was careful to avoid slopping water onto the carpet. “You really do hate that stuff, don’t you?” she asked.

“You know how I feel about hatred,” I said.

“Of course I do,” she said, “but if we don’t talk about it, this will be a very short story.”

I had to chuckle at that. “That’s true. From my perspective, hatred is a lot like love. Both require a level of physical and emotional commitment that can be all-consuming. However, of the two, love is a little more satisfying.”

“’He was the most even-tempered man in town – he hated everybody!’” the Muse, now a very attractive leopardess, misquoted. The book snapped shut and stalked back to its shelf in something approaching high dudgeon, which is hard for books to convey. “So why do you avoid saying you hate things or people or subjects?”

“Because it’s inaccurate,” I said. “I can’t be bothered to actually hate anyone or anything. I prefer to laugh at them, and steer clear of them rather than invest time or emotion or effort in them.” I glanced at the shoggoth that now filled half of the bathtub, with six eyes of varying shapes and colors regarding me from a stalk-like pseudopod. “You look like a couple hundred pounds of lime gelatin, you know.”

The Muse grew a mouth and said, “Yeah, I know.” She shifted aspect again to a male Komodo monitor. “So you don’t hate.”

“Nope. I dislike.” I smiled. “From my perspective, it’s like the Kinsey Scale. It’s a continuum, love at one end and hatred on the other. I just stop short of one end of it.”

The monitor quirked an eyebrow. “What about The Succubus?”

“Ah, my dear ex-wife. What about her?”

“You hate her, don’t you?”

I considered the question. I’ve done that occasionally over the past twenty-one years. “No,” I finally replied. “I loved her, until the relationship soured. It’s rather telling, you’ll agree, when my in-laws took my side in the divorce. But,” and I raised a finger, “it was a valuable lesson.”

“So you’ve said,” the red panda femme said. “Some lessons – “

“Come at a very high price,” I completed my own statement.

There was a slight splashing as the gray mouse femme rolled over in the tub, placed her folded arms on the coaming and rested her head on them. “How do you define ‘dislike’ then?”

“An aversion,” I said. “Not instinctive, but arrived at as a conclusion based on research, direct observation, or experience.” I smiled. “Like eggplant.”

The Muse and I gave a delicate shudder as the entire Babaganoosh Family stormed out of the house.

Back to a futanari otter, the Muse giggled. “You so silly.”

“Yes,” I readily conceded, “but always with a purpose.”



end