[In which an artist makes her appearance]
O-Oh! Ohhh!
[The sound of a young girl calling out might reach your ears. Why? Well, why else?
Okay, forget whatever line of thought you were going down because it's not correct.
Into the view of whoever may be walking is none other than a girl carrying an easel under her arm and a bag rustling with art supplies on her shoulder. She is running after something.
That something is in fact a red beret flowing in the wind, always just slightly out of her grasp]
P-please, stop! T-this isn't funny anymore!
[The sound of a young girl calling out might reach your ears. Why? Well, why else?
Okay, forget whatever line of thought you were going down because it's not correct.
Into the view of whoever may be walking is none other than a girl carrying an easel under her arm and a bag rustling with art supplies on her shoulder. She is running after something.
That something is in fact a red beret flowing in the wind, always just slightly out of her grasp]
P-please, stop! T-this isn't funny anymore!