Sam and the Accidental Decapitation
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Cat
Rating: K+
Prompt: Sam accidentally breaks Cat's stuffed giraffe and goes to great lengths to fix it before Cat finds out.
Sam didn't remember falling asleep a second time. She remembered Cat jumping on her early that morning. That was her friend's charming alternative to an alarm clock. Somewhere between Cat leaving and this moment, she'd managed to fall back asleep, a situation on which she blamed her warm pajamas and Cat's comfortable bed.
Sam had been sleeping on the fold out couch a few nights ago when Cat had a nightmare. The bubbly redhead sprinted into the living room with sweat dripping down her face, her voice high and alarmed as she yelled Sam's name. Sam hadn't minded being woken up at 3AM, because at least this time she wasn't being closed into the couch by Cat's wacky Nona. Without hesitation she followed Cat and slipped beneath her roommate's covers, comforting her as best she could.
She'd slept in Cat's bed every night since, for almost a week now. She still wasn't used to waking up in this room. The walls were bright pink and seeing them always seemed to jolt her awake. She rubbed her eyes and wiggled around, feeling something stuck underneath her. It was Cat's prized purple giraffe, the stupid stuffed animal she carried everywhere, wedged between Sam's bottom and the side of the bed facing the wall. Tired and stubborn, she pulled at the animal's long neck.
Her eyes snapped open when she heard a loud RRRRRip. Her mouth was wide as she held the head and neck of the animal, realizing with horror that the body wasn't attached.
“Fu-dge!” she couldn't bring herself to curse in Cat's home, even though she knew she was alone.
What was she going to do?! Cat would be devastated if she came home to the mangled body of her favorite stuffed friend. Sam had seen Cat's hysteria over the cancellation of That's a Drag-and that would be nothing compared to her reaction to this. No, Sam had to fix this somehow. She couldn't stand to see Cat upset especially over something that was her fault. Besides, if Cat found out she'd probably never speak to her again.
With a defeated sigh she dropped the decapitated head onto the covers and leaned down to grab her cell phone off the table. She didn't know that many people here in LA, but she needed help. Cat couldn't help her because it was Cat's animal she was trying to fix. Dice wouldn't be of use because he was in school, and, well, pretty useless. She would have to call Nona. Sucking in her breath, she navigated to Nona's name on her contact list and pressed the call button.
Holding her Pearphone in her hand, she listened impatiently for her call to be answered. After about six or seven rings, Nona finally answered.
“Sam? Why are you calling me? Has something happened to Cat?” she asked, sounding concerned.
“No, not exactly. Nona...I did something horrible.”
“Do you need me to help you hide a body?”
Sam couldn't tell if Nona was serious or not. She coughed, her throat becoming dry with nerves.
“Nothing like that, but it's good to know I can count on you if that day ever comes,” Sam admitted with a wry grin, “no, actually, I called for your advice.”
“Are you sure this is Sam?” Nona knew Sam wasn't one to ask for help or advice.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Sam sighed, “It's serious though. Or serious for Cat. I was sleepy this morning and I felt something underneath me and without thinking I grabbed it. It was Sam's stuffed giraffe, you know, the purple one that she loves so much? Its head ripped off! I don't know what to do, she's gonna freak if she gets home and finds it like this.”
“His name is Mr. Purple. I got it for her when she had her tonsils out. Now, you have a few options here.”
“What are they? I'm running out of time here, Grandma!”
“You could find the same giraffe at the store and try to pass it off as Mr. Purple...but you run the risk of her discovering that it's not her original giraffe,” Nona explained slowly, “or you could try to fix him. Can you sew?”
The frustrated blonde laughed bitterly.
“Sew? I failed home ec! What about you? Can you fix it for me?”
“I don't know, Sam, I have to get ready for a funeral I'm going to today. One of my friends here at Elderly Acres has passed on.”
“You have plenty of other friends who are going to die soon and have funerals! Can't you just skip this one?” Sam was desperate, it would only be a few short hours before Cat got home.
“No, I can't just skip this one. If you can't sew, then go to the toy store. I got Mr. Purple there, but it's been a few years, so they might not have it. I guess you can just try your luck there.”
“Ugh! Fine. Enjoy the funeral,” Sam murmured.
“Okay...” came Nona's hesitant response.
“Wait! Is there going to be food?”
“What?”
“At the funeral, is there going to be food?”
“No.”
“Oh, crepes. Never mind then!”
Sam hung up the phone and hurried into the kitchen, grabbing some cold pizza and eating it on the way out to her motorcycle. She sped a little on the way to the toy store, getting nervous about the serious lack of time she had to fix this problem. Running inside, she grabbed the first employee she saw, tugging at their blue vest.
“I HAVE A NEED.”
“Uh, excuse me?” the jittery young man asked her.
“I NEED A PURPLE GIRAFFE. Do you have any of those?” Sam clung to his clothing, giving him her most serious stare.
“I, um,” he gulped, “I don't know, but I'd be happy to escort you to the aisle where we keep all of the stuffed toys. Would you like that?”
Sam let go of him and shook her head.
“Nah, Pimples. Just tell me what number.”
“Aisle seven.”
Without another word, she slid across the floor toward the aforementioned aisle. She tore through every stuffed animal in that aisle, even finding a giraffe or two, but no purple ones. No Mr. Purple. Not bothering to put away the toys she'd dropped on the floor in her haste, her sneakers squeaked as she jogged toward the exit.
Her next plan was to involve Dice-but this wasn't going to be easy, considering he was in school. Sam looked up the phone number for Dice's school and called, using her best parent voice to tell them that his mother would be picking him up early today. They didn't even question it, but they asked her to come inside, while she wanted to wait outside. There was no way she could pass for Dice's mom, could she?
Realizing she was still clad in her pajamas, Sam made a quick stop at the closest thrift store and picked out the most mom-looking outfit she could find. She changed into the horrific ensemble and put her pajamas into the hidden compartment on her bike. Sam drove to the school, her stomach tying in knots as she pulled up to the building.
It had been a while since she'd been at an actual school. Sam was normally really good at manipulating people though. She was a good actress and people tended to believe her more often than not. All she needed to do was commit to this role. Her boots were pretty high so they made her look taller, but she was still short for an adult. With a feigned confidence, Sam strode into the school. Her head was held high as she walked into the office and up to the receptionist.
She told the woman she was here to pick up her son. A moment later, Dice came into the office. He looked at Sam with a strange expression, about to open his mouth and ask her what she was doing her. Instead he realized this was his chance to get out of school early, so he gave her a hug and thanked the receptionist.
The two of them walked out together and Sam let out her breath, amazed she'd managed to get away with yet another elaborate lie.
“Not that I'm not happy to be out of math class, but why'd you come pick me up? And you look nothing like my mom, by the way. That pantsuit is HILARIOUS,” Dice laughed and Sam punched him in the arm.
“Shut up, it was part of the plan. Now, I hate to admit this, but you're a pretty smart kid. I need your help with something.”
Dice rubbed his greedy little hands together.
“I'll help. For a price.”
“Ten bucks?” Sam offered through gritted teeth.
“Twenty.”
“Fifteen.”
“Eighteen.”
“Thirteen, or I'm marching you back in there and convincing them to give you detention.”
“Deal,” Dice held out his hand to shake on it.
“I'm not touchin' your sweaty digits. Hop on,” Sam climbed onto the motorcycle and Dice got on behind her.
After explaining the situation at hand, Sam listened to Dice's ideas. His were pretty much the same as hers-try to fix it, buy a new one-he even suggested to just tell Cat when she got home and offered to throw a toy funeral. Knowing that she wasn't going to get anything out of him, Sam stopped at the apartment complex and let Dice off.
She sighed, sitting there as she tried to think through the situation. There had to be something that she was missing.
A moment later, a familiar face walked by-it was Melinda, one of the mothers whose kids she and Cat had babysat for. She said hello and Sam returned the greeting, sliding off her bike and following the woman to the complex.
“Hey, Melinda, I really need a favor,” Sam really hated asking anyone for anything.
“You don't need money, do you?” Melinda asked her cautiously.
“No, it's nothing like that, I swear.”
“Good, because that pipsqueak next door owes me twenty,” she rolled her eyes, “What's going on, Sam?”
“It's a long story but basically I destroyed Cat's favorite stuffed animal and I'm trying to fix it before she gets home.”
“Oh,” Melinda smiled, “I can handle that. I had to sew up Chloe's favorite bear one or two times. If you want, I can teach you how to sew. Comes in pretty handy actually.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Sam got the mangled animal from the apartment and met Melinda at hers, cradling Mr. Purple's broken body in her arms. Melinda inspected him and clucked her tongue, explaining how easy it would be to fix. Instead of sewing it herself, she found one of her children's old stuffed animals in a box. She had Sam deliberately rip one of the arms off, something Sam enjoyed given her thirst for destruction.
Together they sat on the couch, Melinda showing Sam how to sew around the arm. It was a little more difficult than sewing flat cloth, she said, but it was entirely possible. Then she helped Sam pick out a purple thread that practically matched Mr. Purple's skin. Sam set out to sew him up.
When she was done, she held the giraffe in her hands and admired her handiwork. She'd done pretty well, she thought, but it was pretty obvious that Mr. Purple had gained some battle scars. Thanking Melinda, Sam returned to her apartment to change her clothes and consider how she was going to break the news of Mr. Purple's injury to her roommate.
It wasn't long before Cat was bounding into the apartment, dropping her bookbag by the door to run across the room at Sam. It was a habit of hers to hug Sam the moment she got home, squeezing the very life out of her. Sam wheezed as she pulled away, her face growing red with nerves.
“Hey, Cat, I need to tell you something.”
“Oh, no, is the toilet water red again?”
“No, it's--”
“Are we out of Bibble?”
“No, we're not--”
“Is--”
“Cat, stop,” Sam grabbed her shoulders and looked her in the eyes, “I accidentally decapitated Mr. Purple.”
“You...what?” Cat blinked her eyes a few times.
“I didn't mean to! But I tried to get you a new one, I called Nona, I got Dice out of school, Melinda showed me how to sew...I fixed him, kinda.”
Sam held Mr. Purple up for Cat to inspect. The younger girl plucked the stuffed animal from her friend's arms and stared at his neck, squinting as she did so.
“Okay!” she said suddenly, her voice bright.
“Wait, you mean, you're not upset?”
“It was an accident, right? And you fixed it!” Cat was beaming.
“Yeah...”
“Thank you! You're such a good friend!”
She was enveloped in another soul-crushing hug. Sam didn't mind that so much. She was grinning so widely that her cheeks were beginning to hurt. After all, she'd spent the whole day worrying Cat would be angry with her and she was taking this whole thing really well.
“I try to be,” Sam shrugged.
“I've never had someone be so nice to me before,” Cat told her quietly, “I'm glad we're friends.”
“I'm glad we're friends, too.”
“What's that, Mr. Purple?” Cat acted like she was listening to the giraffe speak to her. “Oh, he says, thanks for fixing me! It didn't hurt a bit!”
The girl giggled and carried Mr. Purple with her as she walked to the refrigerator. Sam just smiled, thankful that things had turned out alright after all.
Rating: K+
Prompt: Sam accidentally breaks Cat's stuffed giraffe and goes to great lengths to fix it before Cat finds out.
Sam didn't remember falling asleep a second time. She remembered Cat jumping on her early that morning. That was her friend's charming alternative to an alarm clock. Somewhere between Cat leaving and this moment, she'd managed to fall back asleep, a situation on which she blamed her warm pajamas and Cat's comfortable bed.
Sam had been sleeping on the fold out couch a few nights ago when Cat had a nightmare. The bubbly redhead sprinted into the living room with sweat dripping down her face, her voice high and alarmed as she yelled Sam's name. Sam hadn't minded being woken up at 3AM, because at least this time she wasn't being closed into the couch by Cat's wacky Nona. Without hesitation she followed Cat and slipped beneath her roommate's covers, comforting her as best she could.
She'd slept in Cat's bed every night since, for almost a week now. She still wasn't used to waking up in this room. The walls were bright pink and seeing them always seemed to jolt her awake. She rubbed her eyes and wiggled around, feeling something stuck underneath her. It was Cat's prized purple giraffe, the stupid stuffed animal she carried everywhere, wedged between Sam's bottom and the side of the bed facing the wall. Tired and stubborn, she pulled at the animal's long neck.
Her eyes snapped open when she heard a loud RRRRRip. Her mouth was wide as she held the head and neck of the animal, realizing with horror that the body wasn't attached.
“Fu-dge!” she couldn't bring herself to curse in Cat's home, even though she knew she was alone.
What was she going to do?! Cat would be devastated if she came home to the mangled body of her favorite stuffed friend. Sam had seen Cat's hysteria over the cancellation of That's a Drag-and that would be nothing compared to her reaction to this. No, Sam had to fix this somehow. She couldn't stand to see Cat upset especially over something that was her fault. Besides, if Cat found out she'd probably never speak to her again.
With a defeated sigh she dropped the decapitated head onto the covers and leaned down to grab her cell phone off the table. She didn't know that many people here in LA, but she needed help. Cat couldn't help her because it was Cat's animal she was trying to fix. Dice wouldn't be of use because he was in school, and, well, pretty useless. She would have to call Nona. Sucking in her breath, she navigated to Nona's name on her contact list and pressed the call button.
Holding her Pearphone in her hand, she listened impatiently for her call to be answered. After about six or seven rings, Nona finally answered.
“Sam? Why are you calling me? Has something happened to Cat?” she asked, sounding concerned.
“No, not exactly. Nona...I did something horrible.”
“Do you need me to help you hide a body?”
Sam couldn't tell if Nona was serious or not. She coughed, her throat becoming dry with nerves.
“Nothing like that, but it's good to know I can count on you if that day ever comes,” Sam admitted with a wry grin, “no, actually, I called for your advice.”
“Are you sure this is Sam?” Nona knew Sam wasn't one to ask for help or advice.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Sam sighed, “It's serious though. Or serious for Cat. I was sleepy this morning and I felt something underneath me and without thinking I grabbed it. It was Sam's stuffed giraffe, you know, the purple one that she loves so much? Its head ripped off! I don't know what to do, she's gonna freak if she gets home and finds it like this.”
“His name is Mr. Purple. I got it for her when she had her tonsils out. Now, you have a few options here.”
“What are they? I'm running out of time here, Grandma!”
“You could find the same giraffe at the store and try to pass it off as Mr. Purple...but you run the risk of her discovering that it's not her original giraffe,” Nona explained slowly, “or you could try to fix him. Can you sew?”
The frustrated blonde laughed bitterly.
“Sew? I failed home ec! What about you? Can you fix it for me?”
“I don't know, Sam, I have to get ready for a funeral I'm going to today. One of my friends here at Elderly Acres has passed on.”
“You have plenty of other friends who are going to die soon and have funerals! Can't you just skip this one?” Sam was desperate, it would only be a few short hours before Cat got home.
“No, I can't just skip this one. If you can't sew, then go to the toy store. I got Mr. Purple there, but it's been a few years, so they might not have it. I guess you can just try your luck there.”
“Ugh! Fine. Enjoy the funeral,” Sam murmured.
“Okay...” came Nona's hesitant response.
“Wait! Is there going to be food?”
“What?”
“At the funeral, is there going to be food?”
“No.”
“Oh, crepes. Never mind then!”
Sam hung up the phone and hurried into the kitchen, grabbing some cold pizza and eating it on the way out to her motorcycle. She sped a little on the way to the toy store, getting nervous about the serious lack of time she had to fix this problem. Running inside, she grabbed the first employee she saw, tugging at their blue vest.
“I HAVE A NEED.”
“Uh, excuse me?” the jittery young man asked her.
“I NEED A PURPLE GIRAFFE. Do you have any of those?” Sam clung to his clothing, giving him her most serious stare.
“I, um,” he gulped, “I don't know, but I'd be happy to escort you to the aisle where we keep all of the stuffed toys. Would you like that?”
Sam let go of him and shook her head.
“Nah, Pimples. Just tell me what number.”
“Aisle seven.”
Without another word, she slid across the floor toward the aforementioned aisle. She tore through every stuffed animal in that aisle, even finding a giraffe or two, but no purple ones. No Mr. Purple. Not bothering to put away the toys she'd dropped on the floor in her haste, her sneakers squeaked as she jogged toward the exit.
Her next plan was to involve Dice-but this wasn't going to be easy, considering he was in school. Sam looked up the phone number for Dice's school and called, using her best parent voice to tell them that his mother would be picking him up early today. They didn't even question it, but they asked her to come inside, while she wanted to wait outside. There was no way she could pass for Dice's mom, could she?
Realizing she was still clad in her pajamas, Sam made a quick stop at the closest thrift store and picked out the most mom-looking outfit she could find. She changed into the horrific ensemble and put her pajamas into the hidden compartment on her bike. Sam drove to the school, her stomach tying in knots as she pulled up to the building.
It had been a while since she'd been at an actual school. Sam was normally really good at manipulating people though. She was a good actress and people tended to believe her more often than not. All she needed to do was commit to this role. Her boots were pretty high so they made her look taller, but she was still short for an adult. With a feigned confidence, Sam strode into the school. Her head was held high as she walked into the office and up to the receptionist.
She told the woman she was here to pick up her son. A moment later, Dice came into the office. He looked at Sam with a strange expression, about to open his mouth and ask her what she was doing her. Instead he realized this was his chance to get out of school early, so he gave her a hug and thanked the receptionist.
The two of them walked out together and Sam let out her breath, amazed she'd managed to get away with yet another elaborate lie.
“Not that I'm not happy to be out of math class, but why'd you come pick me up? And you look nothing like my mom, by the way. That pantsuit is HILARIOUS,” Dice laughed and Sam punched him in the arm.
“Shut up, it was part of the plan. Now, I hate to admit this, but you're a pretty smart kid. I need your help with something.”
Dice rubbed his greedy little hands together.
“I'll help. For a price.”
“Ten bucks?” Sam offered through gritted teeth.
“Twenty.”
“Fifteen.”
“Eighteen.”
“Thirteen, or I'm marching you back in there and convincing them to give you detention.”
“Deal,” Dice held out his hand to shake on it.
“I'm not touchin' your sweaty digits. Hop on,” Sam climbed onto the motorcycle and Dice got on behind her.
After explaining the situation at hand, Sam listened to Dice's ideas. His were pretty much the same as hers-try to fix it, buy a new one-he even suggested to just tell Cat when she got home and offered to throw a toy funeral. Knowing that she wasn't going to get anything out of him, Sam stopped at the apartment complex and let Dice off.
She sighed, sitting there as she tried to think through the situation. There had to be something that she was missing.
A moment later, a familiar face walked by-it was Melinda, one of the mothers whose kids she and Cat had babysat for. She said hello and Sam returned the greeting, sliding off her bike and following the woman to the complex.
“Hey, Melinda, I really need a favor,” Sam really hated asking anyone for anything.
“You don't need money, do you?” Melinda asked her cautiously.
“No, it's nothing like that, I swear.”
“Good, because that pipsqueak next door owes me twenty,” she rolled her eyes, “What's going on, Sam?”
“It's a long story but basically I destroyed Cat's favorite stuffed animal and I'm trying to fix it before she gets home.”
“Oh,” Melinda smiled, “I can handle that. I had to sew up Chloe's favorite bear one or two times. If you want, I can teach you how to sew. Comes in pretty handy actually.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Sam got the mangled animal from the apartment and met Melinda at hers, cradling Mr. Purple's broken body in her arms. Melinda inspected him and clucked her tongue, explaining how easy it would be to fix. Instead of sewing it herself, she found one of her children's old stuffed animals in a box. She had Sam deliberately rip one of the arms off, something Sam enjoyed given her thirst for destruction.
Together they sat on the couch, Melinda showing Sam how to sew around the arm. It was a little more difficult than sewing flat cloth, she said, but it was entirely possible. Then she helped Sam pick out a purple thread that practically matched Mr. Purple's skin. Sam set out to sew him up.
When she was done, she held the giraffe in her hands and admired her handiwork. She'd done pretty well, she thought, but it was pretty obvious that Mr. Purple had gained some battle scars. Thanking Melinda, Sam returned to her apartment to change her clothes and consider how she was going to break the news of Mr. Purple's injury to her roommate.
It wasn't long before Cat was bounding into the apartment, dropping her bookbag by the door to run across the room at Sam. It was a habit of hers to hug Sam the moment she got home, squeezing the very life out of her. Sam wheezed as she pulled away, her face growing red with nerves.
“Hey, Cat, I need to tell you something.”
“Oh, no, is the toilet water red again?”
“No, it's--”
“Are we out of Bibble?”
“No, we're not--”
“Is--”
“Cat, stop,” Sam grabbed her shoulders and looked her in the eyes, “I accidentally decapitated Mr. Purple.”
“You...what?” Cat blinked her eyes a few times.
“I didn't mean to! But I tried to get you a new one, I called Nona, I got Dice out of school, Melinda showed me how to sew...I fixed him, kinda.”
Sam held Mr. Purple up for Cat to inspect. The younger girl plucked the stuffed animal from her friend's arms and stared at his neck, squinting as she did so.
“Okay!” she said suddenly, her voice bright.
“Wait, you mean, you're not upset?”
“It was an accident, right? And you fixed it!” Cat was beaming.
“Yeah...”
“Thank you! You're such a good friend!”
She was enveloped in another soul-crushing hug. Sam didn't mind that so much. She was grinning so widely that her cheeks were beginning to hurt. After all, she'd spent the whole day worrying Cat would be angry with her and she was taking this whole thing really well.
“I try to be,” Sam shrugged.
“I've never had someone be so nice to me before,” Cat told her quietly, “I'm glad we're friends.”
“I'm glad we're friends, too.”
“What's that, Mr. Purple?” Cat acted like she was listening to the giraffe speak to her. “Oh, he says, thanks for fixing me! It didn't hurt a bit!”
The girl giggled and carried Mr. Purple with her as she walked to the refrigerator. Sam just smiled, thankful that things had turned out alright after all.