(no subject)
The morning starts normally.
Pause, rewind, scratch that. The morning does not start normally, because Olive's in bed alone and, in her half-asleep state, thinks she hears a rattle under the bed. Then immediately forgets she heard anything, even though snakes in the tropics are a totally valid concern. She's less of a fan of sleeping alone these days than she used to be, even if the extra space is sort of appreciated, but sometimes it happens, and anyway, she's got a quiz today she needed to study for.
It's only the thought of that which draws her out of bed, where, after a moment's deliberation, she changes into her costume. Just because she has class doesn't mean she's not dressing up, and she's pretty proud of the Dorothy dress she made out of once was an enormous and ugly blue gingham muumuu. Ruby slippers were harder to come by (she would have been happy with silver, honestly, but those just never turned up), but she's got those on and she's in the process of curling the ends of her pigtails with a curler she borrowed from the Compound when she hears it again.
A rattling under the bed.
Cautiously brandishing the curling iron, she crouches slowly down. There's nothing down there, though, but the stuffed snake won for her at the carnival last week. She'd relax and move on, except that's when she hears a slow metal scraping from her left. "Duckie?" she calls, then remembers the puppy elected to sleep on the porch last night. A flash of silver catches her eye from near the floor, and she turns on her heel, curler in front of her.
The stuffed panda has her sewing scissors.
It no longer seems to have much of a mouth, but it definitely has her scissors.
And then there are the stuffed unicorns.
As the small herd advances on her and the snake wends its way out from under the bed, hissing, Olive finally breaks her stunned silence, shrieking at the top of her lungs. Hopping over the snake and inadvertently pulling the curling iron from its socket as she does so, she clambers up onto the bed and pulls the cord in her hand, swinging it like a lasso to smack a unicorn in the face with the plug. It falls back over with a satisfying thunk only to stumble to its plush hooves again as the snake starts slithering up her fallen sheets after her.
"Stay away from me," she screams, and she can't even bring herself for feeling stupid about yelling at toys when the panda ringleader looks so murderous. "I will burn you bitches, see if I don't - put the goddamn scissors down, those are mine!"
Pause, rewind, scratch that. The morning does not start normally, because Olive's in bed alone and, in her half-asleep state, thinks she hears a rattle under the bed. Then immediately forgets she heard anything, even though snakes in the tropics are a totally valid concern. She's less of a fan of sleeping alone these days than she used to be, even if the extra space is sort of appreciated, but sometimes it happens, and anyway, she's got a quiz today she needed to study for.
It's only the thought of that which draws her out of bed, where, after a moment's deliberation, she changes into her costume. Just because she has class doesn't mean she's not dressing up, and she's pretty proud of the Dorothy dress she made out of once was an enormous and ugly blue gingham muumuu. Ruby slippers were harder to come by (she would have been happy with silver, honestly, but those just never turned up), but she's got those on and she's in the process of curling the ends of her pigtails with a curler she borrowed from the Compound when she hears it again.
A rattling under the bed.
Cautiously brandishing the curling iron, she crouches slowly down. There's nothing down there, though, but the stuffed snake won for her at the carnival last week. She'd relax and move on, except that's when she hears a slow metal scraping from her left. "Duckie?" she calls, then remembers the puppy elected to sleep on the porch last night. A flash of silver catches her eye from near the floor, and she turns on her heel, curler in front of her.
The stuffed panda has her sewing scissors.
It no longer seems to have much of a mouth, but it definitely has her scissors.
And then there are the stuffed unicorns.
As the small herd advances on her and the snake wends its way out from under the bed, hissing, Olive finally breaks her stunned silence, shrieking at the top of her lungs. Hopping over the snake and inadvertently pulling the curling iron from its socket as she does so, she clambers up onto the bed and pulls the cord in her hand, swinging it like a lasso to smack a unicorn in the face with the plug. It falls back over with a satisfying thunk only to stumble to its plush hooves again as the snake starts slithering up her fallen sheets after her.
"Stay away from me," she screams, and she can't even bring herself for feeling stupid about yelling at toys when the panda ringleader looks so murderous. "I will burn you bitches, see if I don't - put the goddamn scissors down, those are mine!"