(no subject)
Britta could deal with weird. The changing landscape, the changing houses, the changing weather - okay, she got it, the place was bizarre and she was hostage here and everything was all crazy and nothing stayed the same. Fine, whatever, message received. But her house was pink now and there was a lot of glitter stuff on it and she was sort of unsettled by its being so round. She couldn't find a corner in there. She'd looked.
She didn't even know why it bothered her except that it was just bizarre. Right angles, sharp edges, they were everyday things, they were things she expected, and here she was in a house that didn't have even one. It wasn't right. Plus it was all just so pink.
The morning found her out in her snow boots, bundled up for the weather, eying her house critically. It had to come down. The directions, they pretty much all had to come down. Pushing up on her toes, she made a grab for a long strand of tinsel. "Come on," she said, "you're going down, buddy."
She didn't even know why it bothered her except that it was just bizarre. Right angles, sharp edges, they were everyday things, they were things she expected, and here she was in a house that didn't have even one. It wasn't right. Plus it was all just so pink.
The morning found her out in her snow boots, bundled up for the weather, eying her house critically. It had to come down. The directions, they pretty much all had to come down. Pushing up on her toes, she made a grab for a long strand of tinsel. "Come on," she said, "you're going down, buddy."