Calvin & Hobbes - #56 Taste
Title: These aren't Jelly Bellys
Fandom: Calvin & Hobbes
Prompt: Taste
Words: 538
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Calvin & Hobbes
A/N: First ever attempt at writing Calvin and I'm not sure if second person was really the best choice to convey that uniquely Calvin personality since I don't really write in that style.
You gallop down the stairs in what has to be the fastest time EVER and manage to just barely avoid being tackled from behind by Hobbes.
Hah!
It is all skill and prowess and clear superiority that win today’s First-one-to-the-bottom-of-the-stairs-first-thing-in-the-morning race. And you snicker as Hobbes huffs with disappointment and wanders behind the couch to lick his wounded pride.
You’re doubly excited because tomorrow is Easter and there is nothing more fun than eating chocolate bunnies head first and terrorizing all the little Cadbury Egg-people before you maul them with your razor-sharp teeth and spill their sticky insides down your chin. And YES Mom has already put out a small dish of jelly beans! You rush over and pick out all the green and brown ones because Watermelon and Root Beer are your absolute favorite.
You pop a Watermelon one in your mouth as you walk to the kitchen to see if what you smell really is pancakes. You stop. You gag. You convulse then gasp then crumple to the floor.
This is NOT a jelly bean!
It tastes awful, like sugared, booger-colored play-doh, and you make the most disgusted face you can to express just how disgustingly, terrifyingly terrible this jelly bean is! You wrinkle your nose, scrunch up your face and snarl you lips exactly like . . . the dread man-eating jaguar Sundarban does when he’s trying to dislodge the arm of the least-tasty human ever from his teeth and suddenly has to sneeze.
You roar your displeasure at these puny (and probably just as bad-tasting) men as you swipe your giant paw at what’s left of their hunting party. Their little spears can’t pierce your thick hide! You are the Master of this beautiful jungle and you’ll prove it by trampling their tiny village!
“Calvin don’t jostle the table, you’ll spill my coffee.”
Sundarban isn’t concerned with a measly cup of coffee!
“Calvin.”
You halt your crashing rampage to the tiny village and . . . blink; yes he used that tone, the one that means that all children everywhere aren’t ever allowed to have any fun. Because not having fun evidently builds character. As if you could possibly have fun with this “character” when building it is less fun than bedtime on Halloween night.
What a stick-in-the-mud. His coffee probably tastes like mud too. It smells like burning dirt. You open your fist of vile, trick jelly beans and notice the brown and green stains that spot up your palm. You frown, honest jelly beans don’t bleed into your hand. Well, you won’t be the only one that suffers!
You peek around the recliner . . . excellent! Dad is still in newspaper world. You stand back up and declare that pancakes are exactly what you wanted for breakfast and there had better be plenty of worm-syrup waiting for you. You drop the Root Beer ones in his coffee as you pass the table and throw the rest away in the kitchen before Mom can turn around and catch you wasting food.
You vow that each and every unattended glass, mug and cup at tomorrow’s Family Easter Brunch will have surprise, trick jelly beans at the bottom until she stops being cheap and buys the real ones.
Fandom: Calvin & Hobbes
Prompt: Taste
Words: 538
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Calvin & Hobbes
A/N: First ever attempt at writing Calvin and I'm not sure if second person was really the best choice to convey that uniquely Calvin personality since I don't really write in that style.
You gallop down the stairs in what has to be the fastest time EVER and manage to just barely avoid being tackled from behind by Hobbes.
Hah!
It is all skill and prowess and clear superiority that win today’s First-one-to-the-bottom-of-the-stairs-first-thing-in-the-morning race. And you snicker as Hobbes huffs with disappointment and wanders behind the couch to lick his wounded pride.
You’re doubly excited because tomorrow is Easter and there is nothing more fun than eating chocolate bunnies head first and terrorizing all the little Cadbury Egg-people before you maul them with your razor-sharp teeth and spill their sticky insides down your chin. And YES Mom has already put out a small dish of jelly beans! You rush over and pick out all the green and brown ones because Watermelon and Root Beer are your absolute favorite.
You pop a Watermelon one in your mouth as you walk to the kitchen to see if what you smell really is pancakes. You stop. You gag. You convulse then gasp then crumple to the floor.
This is NOT a jelly bean!
It tastes awful, like sugared, booger-colored play-doh, and you make the most disgusted face you can to express just how disgustingly, terrifyingly terrible this jelly bean is! You wrinkle your nose, scrunch up your face and snarl you lips exactly like . . . the dread man-eating jaguar Sundarban does when he’s trying to dislodge the arm of the least-tasty human ever from his teeth and suddenly has to sneeze.
You roar your displeasure at these puny (and probably just as bad-tasting) men as you swipe your giant paw at what’s left of their hunting party. Their little spears can’t pierce your thick hide! You are the Master of this beautiful jungle and you’ll prove it by trampling their tiny village!
“Calvin don’t jostle the table, you’ll spill my coffee.”
Sundarban isn’t concerned with a measly cup of coffee!
“Calvin.”
You halt your crashing rampage to the tiny village and . . . blink; yes he used that tone, the one that means that all children everywhere aren’t ever allowed to have any fun. Because not having fun evidently builds character. As if you could possibly have fun with this “character” when building it is less fun than bedtime on Halloween night.
What a stick-in-the-mud. His coffee probably tastes like mud too. It smells like burning dirt. You open your fist of vile, trick jelly beans and notice the brown and green stains that spot up your palm. You frown, honest jelly beans don’t bleed into your hand. Well, you won’t be the only one that suffers!
You peek around the recliner . . . excellent! Dad is still in newspaper world. You stand back up and declare that pancakes are exactly what you wanted for breakfast and there had better be plenty of worm-syrup waiting for you. You drop the Root Beer ones in his coffee as you pass the table and throw the rest away in the kitchen before Mom can turn around and catch you wasting food.
You vow that each and every unattended glass, mug and cup at tomorrow’s Family Easter Brunch will have surprise, trick jelly beans at the bottom until she stops being cheap and buys the real ones.