(no subject)
With all the things that have happened to me over the course of my twenty-two years, one would think that I would have the good sense not to pick up strange wooden dolls that I find, especially when it comes to this island. But, of course, that's not the case because I, Odd Thomas, am not only exceptionally strange and good at living up to my name, as one Stormy Llewellyn-Thomas might tell you, I'm also exceptionally stupid at times.
I don't blame the wooden idol immediately, because that would just be paranoid, but by the time mid-day rolls around and I find myself dressed in bright green shorts with a swirly rainbow coloured t-shirt, I begin to wonder. The fact that I burned pancakes bears mentioning because I have never once, in all my years as a fry cook, burned a single meal and yet today, I burned pancakes.
You don't even want to know what Terrible Chester has done to my shoes this time around.
I left the idol on the beach, it appeared in the kitchen. I left it in the kitchen, it appeared in the rec room. I set it down outside in front of the Compound, it followed me to the basement where I'm currently trying to do my laundry, in hopes I can worm my way out of these shorts before anyone sees me.
It would be going better, I imagine, if the washing machine wasn't suddenly spitting bubbles at me. "Stop it," I say, as if the machine or the idol will listen to me. Neither of them do, of course.
[It's Odd's turn with the cursed idol. Come laugh at/be sucked in by his bad luck. LT, ST, all good.]
I don't blame the wooden idol immediately, because that would just be paranoid, but by the time mid-day rolls around and I find myself dressed in bright green shorts with a swirly rainbow coloured t-shirt, I begin to wonder. The fact that I burned pancakes bears mentioning because I have never once, in all my years as a fry cook, burned a single meal and yet today, I burned pancakes.
You don't even want to know what Terrible Chester has done to my shoes this time around.
I left the idol on the beach, it appeared in the kitchen. I left it in the kitchen, it appeared in the rec room. I set it down outside in front of the Compound, it followed me to the basement where I'm currently trying to do my laundry, in hopes I can worm my way out of these shorts before anyone sees me.
It would be going better, I imagine, if the washing machine wasn't suddenly spitting bubbles at me. "Stop it," I say, as if the machine or the idol will listen to me. Neither of them do, of course.
[It's Odd's turn with the cursed idol. Come laugh at/be sucked in by his bad luck. LT, ST, all good.]