Well, this is new.
And it was.
I had just returned from my exhilarating walk in the cool, brisk winds to find my living room covered in red fabric cut-outs.
"What are they of?" I gestured my hand at the two mice sitting on the sofa. One had a pair of scissors suspended in mid air, as if it was about to cut. The other was holding a tiny black bottle.
"NO YOU CAN'T," said the mouse holding scissors, and I thought: I bloody well can, but I wasn't sure what we were talking about so I said, "I've just run thirty miles."
"Well on with it then," squeaked the second mouse quite pompously.
"You know-" I began, but the mouse with scissors turned to its companion and said, "Snails don't eat mushrooms. Have you ever seen a snail eating a mushroom?"
"I most certainly have!" said the second mouse, and it waved the bottle through the air.
I stuck out my foot, hoping to appear cool and into it: "There's-"
"You have NOT! When have you seen a snail eating a mushroom?"
The first mouse seemed very put-out and the second mouse seemed not to notice as it pulled the bottle in close to its face and took a big whiff.
"Are you sniffing?" I asked, shocked, "Sniffing glue?"
The first mouse turned to me, "What's it to ya?"
A mouse saying 'ya'? This had to be stopped. "I will not have mice sniffing glue in my house!" I exclaimed loudly.
"It's not glue," said the second mouse with its eyes half closed, "It's cocoa."
I raised an eyebrow, "Chocolate?"
The first mouse looked down sadly, and even the scissors seemed to droop in dismay while I pondered how to name these lost, wayward creatures.
"Ahhh, gets the old heart pumping," said Morsel, swinging its legs in a satisfied contentment.
"No, that's your Heart Pumper," said Twinge, and I said, "Sorry, heart pumper?"
Twinge eyed me up suspiciously, "Haven't you got one?"
"I'm done," I said extravagantly.
"Oi," one of them called as I walked away (I couldn't be sure which one because they both sounded the same: high-pitched and annoying), "Tell us when our sister is returning from her balloon adventure!"
I ignored this ridiculous request.
"I'd rather like to ride in an air balloon," I heard the other mouse declare dreamily.
"Let's."
And as I made my way into the kitchen to prepare my double-strength Cinnamon and Cherry tea, I had an uneasy feeling that things were about to go down.
~In a furry kind of way.
Thursday 30 January 2014
Tuesday 21 January 2014
What time is it in Mordor?
Things I did last year:
+ Ace my Hospitality course (which basically means don't drop out) :D Yeah!
+ Take up martial arts -Went to a few local ones and wasn't too impressed. Will keep trying.
+ Make 50 monsters
+ Save up to pay for either Pathology course or EN course at TAFE next year
+ Climb onto the roof of a bus shelter and blow bubbles Attempted, but I'm acrobatically challenged.
+ Draw one faery every month Will post the rest soon C=
+ Learn how to paint faeries My elf painting is almost finished (almost meaning never...)
+ Join a gym (unless doing martial arts) Yep! >_< I'm that weird girl who looks like a demented chicken trying to casually do bench presses.
+ Buy and wear fairy wings at random (and try not to fly away) ^_^ I flew.
+Substitute coffee for Green Tea No. Just No This never happened.
+ Start selling jewellery +Make more jewellery + Organise portfolio
+ Laugh more I laugh all the time anyway but I'm putting it down as a win coz I'm cool like that.
+ Watch all episodes of Game of Thrones
Things I will do in Life
+ Go to Glastonbury for the Faery Ball
+ Have seven kids and a million pets
+ Own a business
+ Drink coffee in the rain+ Dance in the rain ^_^
+ Acquire a farm with lots of goats, sheep, cows and chickens
+ Publish something
+ Have a Wiccan wedding, but not get married
+ Lose one of my slippers like Cinderella and have some random person find it (maybe stick my contact details inside the sole? THESE SHOES ARE EXPENSIVE AND LOVELY AND THE WHOLE POINT TO LOSING A SHOE LIKE CINDERELLA IS THAT SOMEONE RETURNS IT) >_< It was midnight. I was suave.
+ Have a food fight with cake
+ Find out what really is at the end of the rainbow, and if there's leprechaun gold, find a leprechaun and make a deal
+ Give blood -Not sure if I can do this as I was banned for about six years because I fainted FIVE YEARS AGO and the system is filled with people who care more about one girl losing conscious for two minutes than terminally ill people who depend on regular blood donations. I tried three times and I'm still furious.
+ Make a fort and have sex in it
+ Take up martial arts -Went to a few local ones and wasn't too impressed. Will keep trying.
+ Make 50 monsters
+ Save up to pay for either Pathology course or EN course at TAFE next year
+ Climb onto the roof of a bus shelter and blow bubbles Attempted, but I'm acrobatically challenged.
+
+ Start selling jewellery +
+ Watch all episodes of Game of Thrones
Things I will do in Life
+ Go to Glastonbury for the Faery Ball
+ Have seven kids and a million pets
+ Own a business
+ Drink coffee in the rain
+ Acquire a farm with lots of goats, sheep, cows and chickens
+ Publish something
+ Have a Wiccan wedding, but not get married
+ Have a food fight with cake
+ Find out what really is at the end of the rainbow, and if there's leprechaun gold, find a leprechaun and make a deal
+ Give blood -Not sure if I can do this as I was banned for about six years because I fainted FIVE YEARS AGO and the system is filled with people who care more about one girl losing conscious for two minutes than terminally ill people who depend on regular blood donations. I tried three times and I'm still furious.
+ Make a fort and have sex in it
Tuesday 14 January 2014
Have I made my own umbrella or am I slipping in the puddles?
"I wanted three lumps..." I said, mildly agitated but not enough to sound convincing.
"I'm appropriately apologetic," he said, and scooped in four teaspoons of sugar before I realised what was happening.
"Hey!" I looked down into my cup, "I said three."
"Terribly aggrieved," he turned, put down the sugar bowl and adjusted his bright blue turban. Then walked off.
"THOSE GENIE PANTS ARE FOR GIRLS!" I yelled. When I got no response, I shouted: "AND THEY MAKE YOUR BUM LOOK BIG!" then I looked back at my coffee, which had now accumulated six sugars and a smug expression.
I contemplated drinking it. But then again, I contemplate a lot of things when I'm staring into mugs of hot liquid.
"Excuse me; is this the take-off terminal?"
I started, because hearing voices in one's own head is never a good sign, and my eyes fell on the mug sitting innocently upon the table, apparently ready to have a chat. Well, I felt honoured.
"Have you always sounded like a Rhinoceros with two teeth missing?" I asked, basking in my honour. I might have been smirking a little, narrowing my eyes and moving my head in that 'oh, you know how it is' gesture, and perhaps even rehearsing what I would say when complimented on my years of hard effort.
"Appalling English, if I do say so."
My smirk faded and I gave the mug a look of frost and daggers, "I wish you wouldn't. I have delicate ears. See these ear-cosies? They're not just for decoration."
"They make you look like you're growing ferns out of your head!"
"I made them myself!"
The mug laughed shrilly, "Do make me some! I'll show all my friends and we'll have a grand giggle!"
I resolved on that very spot, sitting on my old three-legged stool, that I would never buy another mug again. But I wanted mugs. I wanted ten, or twenty; I wanted rows and rows, shelves and cupboards filled with different colours, sizes and horrendous patterns.
This was absolution.
"I must go shopping," I said abruptly (and very superfluously) and stood up, knocking my stool backwards without a care in the world. The time for stools was over.
"Aiighhhhh!"
I looked down to see a little mouse wearing a waistcoat and black high-tops sprawled out on the ground as if it had just attempted to bowl with an oversized ball.
"Do pardon my excessive energy," I said primly, "I have just been insulted by my coffee with too many sugars."
The mouse grunted and scrambled to a stand.
"It has six," I said to make my angst more understandable.
"Do sweet things often insult you?"
I took some time to think about this. "I think on occasion, but I'd have to go back inside a time-machine to make sure, and my beloved one doesn't have the ability to assemble machines that can travel, or even heat up spaghetti, so I'm afraid my answer is quite a lie."
The mouse wrinkled its little nose and said: "Do you know where I can find the nearest take-off terminal?"
"This isn't an airport," I said with an air of exasperation. Was this mouse one of the blind ones that lost its tail in a tragic knifing escapade?
"I'm taking my mouse friend hot-air-ballooning," and he proceeded to whip out two pairs of goggles and a handful of what looked like tiny water balloons from his back pockets. "Filled with jelly," he said as if this was entirely normal mouse behaviour.
"Um..." I was unsure how to continue.
The mouse checked his watch so I said, "I will swap you a jelly balloon for a mug of conversational coffee that compliments you every time you take a sip," and I crossed my fingers behind my back.
"Coffee and compliments?" The mouse enquired.
"Rather a thing now," I replied nonchalantly.
"Well," he checked his watch again, making me realise that the only reason I had taken him to be a male was because he had on a waistcoat, and then I wondered why I didn't associate waistcoats with females.
"I think I'll buy a red one," I said out loud and the mouse looked up and declared: "I will definitely."
"Right on."
I took hold of my aggressive mug and watched the mouse search in his handful of balloons, and I went through all my fond memories of our time together. What a time.
He held up a green one, "It's got a little knot, just here, that I find offensive."
"More offensive than an insolent mug?"
"Possibly."
So it was settled. We switched items and called it a day. I thanked him for my breakfast. He wondered if hot-air-balloons ran on good time. I told him about the time I developed a blister on my foot and had to hop on one leg all the way up to the service station to buy a carton of strawberry milk that I found out I was allergic to.
He nodded- probably because his head wasn't screwed on properly- and I felt unable to offer assistance as I had no idea how to screw a mouse head on properly.
"If you're going to throw jelly bombs while flying, please try and hit the guy walking around with a blue turban. He causes me physical angst." And he did because my stomach had just started to rumble.
The mouse stared at me in a serious manner: "It will be my absolute honour."
I gave a low nod, turned and took a bite of my breakfasty bomb goodness.
~Some days, things just work out.
^_6
"I'm appropriately apologetic," he said, and scooped in four teaspoons of sugar before I realised what was happening.
"Hey!" I looked down into my cup, "I said three."
"Terribly aggrieved," he turned, put down the sugar bowl and adjusted his bright blue turban. Then walked off.
"THOSE GENIE PANTS ARE FOR GIRLS!" I yelled. When I got no response, I shouted: "AND THEY MAKE YOUR BUM LOOK BIG!" then I looked back at my coffee, which had now accumulated six sugars and a smug expression.
I contemplated drinking it. But then again, I contemplate a lot of things when I'm staring into mugs of hot liquid.
"Excuse me; is this the take-off terminal?"
I started, because hearing voices in one's own head is never a good sign, and my eyes fell on the mug sitting innocently upon the table, apparently ready to have a chat. Well, I felt honoured.
"Have you always sounded like a Rhinoceros with two teeth missing?" I asked, basking in my honour. I might have been smirking a little, narrowing my eyes and moving my head in that 'oh, you know how it is' gesture, and perhaps even rehearsing what I would say when complimented on my years of hard effort.
"Appalling English, if I do say so."
My smirk faded and I gave the mug a look of frost and daggers, "I wish you wouldn't. I have delicate ears. See these ear-cosies? They're not just for decoration."
"They make you look like you're growing ferns out of your head!"
"I made them myself!"
The mug laughed shrilly, "Do make me some! I'll show all my friends and we'll have a grand giggle!"
I resolved on that very spot, sitting on my old three-legged stool, that I would never buy another mug again. But I wanted mugs. I wanted ten, or twenty; I wanted rows and rows, shelves and cupboards filled with different colours, sizes and horrendous patterns.
This was absolution.
"I must go shopping," I said abruptly (and very superfluously) and stood up, knocking my stool backwards without a care in the world. The time for stools was over.
"Aiighhhhh!"
I looked down to see a little mouse wearing a waistcoat and black high-tops sprawled out on the ground as if it had just attempted to bowl with an oversized ball.
"Do pardon my excessive energy," I said primly, "I have just been insulted by my coffee with too many sugars."
The mouse grunted and scrambled to a stand.
"It has six," I said to make my angst more understandable.
"Do sweet things often insult you?"
I took some time to think about this. "I think on occasion, but I'd have to go back inside a time-machine to make sure, and my beloved one doesn't have the ability to assemble machines that can travel, or even heat up spaghetti, so I'm afraid my answer is quite a lie."
The mouse wrinkled its little nose and said: "Do you know where I can find the nearest take-off terminal?"
"This isn't an airport," I said with an air of exasperation. Was this mouse one of the blind ones that lost its tail in a tragic knifing escapade?
"I'm taking my mouse friend hot-air-ballooning," and he proceeded to whip out two pairs of goggles and a handful of what looked like tiny water balloons from his back pockets. "Filled with jelly," he said as if this was entirely normal mouse behaviour.
"Um..." I was unsure how to continue.
The mouse checked his watch so I said, "I will swap you a jelly balloon for a mug of conversational coffee that compliments you every time you take a sip," and I crossed my fingers behind my back.
"Coffee and compliments?" The mouse enquired.
"Rather a thing now," I replied nonchalantly.
"Well," he checked his watch again, making me realise that the only reason I had taken him to be a male was because he had on a waistcoat, and then I wondered why I didn't associate waistcoats with females.
"I think I'll buy a red one," I said out loud and the mouse looked up and declared: "I will definitely."
"Right on."
I took hold of my aggressive mug and watched the mouse search in his handful of balloons, and I went through all my fond memories of our time together. What a time.
He held up a green one, "It's got a little knot, just here, that I find offensive."
"More offensive than an insolent mug?"
"Possibly."
So it was settled. We switched items and called it a day. I thanked him for my breakfast. He wondered if hot-air-balloons ran on good time. I told him about the time I developed a blister on my foot and had to hop on one leg all the way up to the service station to buy a carton of strawberry milk that I found out I was allergic to.
He nodded- probably because his head wasn't screwed on properly- and I felt unable to offer assistance as I had no idea how to screw a mouse head on properly.
"If you're going to throw jelly bombs while flying, please try and hit the guy walking around with a blue turban. He causes me physical angst." And he did because my stomach had just started to rumble.
The mouse stared at me in a serious manner: "It will be my absolute honour."
I gave a low nod, turned and took a bite of my breakfasty bomb goodness.
~Some days, things just work out.
^_6
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