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"I've got some bad news," said Dash, closing the kitchen door behind him and kicking off his heavy work boots on his way to the sofa.
Marshall scowled.
"Chisel's last cheque bounced? I told you to make sure they weren't drawn on the Bank of Faerie, they never last past the first night deposit-"
"Nope," Dash interrupted, throwing himself down on the threadbare cushions and making the worm-eaten wooden frame squeak in protest. "Try again. Less terrible, more annoying."
Simon gazed thoughtfully up at the ceiling, then groaned as a thought occurred to him.
"It's flu season," he said. "The colony of disgusting blobs of ectoplasm who live in the sewers have caught a cold and now all of Eerie risks suffocation beneath the rising tide of mucus."
Dash made a face.
"No!" he said. "And gross. Is that something that's happened before?"
"Twice," said Simon and Marshall in unison.
"Why do you think the Unkind Ones knit all those tiny scarves and mittens every single winter?" asked Simon.
Dash shrugged.
"Babies?" he hazarded. "Gnomes? I don't know- wait, how does a disgusting blob of ectoplasm even wear mittens?"
"Not well," said Marshall with a remembered shiver of revulsion. "It looks sort of like somebody filled a mitten with half-set Jello and then left it outside on the hottest day of summer, for years."
"There's a certain amount of leakage," Simon agreed. "And they don't really have necks or any sort of musculature, so if you wind the scarves too tight their heads can pop off and form new, equally flu-y ectoplasm blobs. It's kind of a fraught few days."
"Yeah," said Dash. "I can imagine. But anyway, no, no ambulatory slime moulds with the flu. Not as gross, but with a greater potential for destroying the world."
Simon and Marshall sat in silence for a few moments, each mentally running through his own personal list of Eerie's various threats, oddities, and annoyances.
"I give up," said Simon eventually. Marshall nodded.
Dash laced his hands behind his head and leaned back against the tattered upholstery, half-closing his eyes.
"Well, either the great old one Cthulhu has possessed our dog, or somebody left a plate of spaghetti and meatballs where Sparky could reach it and he's eating your dinner."
Marshall made a strangled, incoherent sound of rage as he leapt to his feet, narrowly avoided tripping over Dash's discarded boots, and slammed through the kitchen door. A moment later the sound of scolding drifted through the small apartment.
"Funny," said Simon. "I could have sworn that plate was in the refrigerator, along with a post-it note saying not to touch it."
Dash shrugged.
"It's not like Sparky can read," he said.
Microwave-verse
Bonfire by
froodle, in which Pinocchio is ruined forever
Gingerbread by
froodle, in which there is a witch in the Eerie Woods
Leaves by
froodle, in which plantlife finds Marshall entirely too enticing
Offspring by
froodle, in which there are dragons
Based on Your Previous Purchases by
froodle, in which Mars should really pay attention to Amazon's reccomendations
Housework by
froodle, in which a rota cannot be agreed upon
Breakfast by
froodle, in which Dash's attempts at cookery do not go well
Ghost in the Machine by
froodle, in which a new laptop opens an old wound
Consequences by
froodle, in which an encounter with leprechauns leaves the boys very tired indeed
The Microwave by
froodle, in which Andrea Fantucci returns to Eerie after a considerable absense
The Eldritch Abomination in the Room by
froodle, in which the microwave is most definitely not discussed
Basic Household Maintenance by
froodle, in which manticores are inconsiderate houseguests
Torrential by
froodle, in which there is a storm, and the boys eat ice-cream
Linens by
froodle, in which Dash X makes a bed
Night Music by
froodle, in which Simon is woken by a nocturnal visitor
In For The Night by
froodle, in which Dash refuses to leave the house
Hound by
froodle, in which Simon makes a friend
Errands by
froodle, in which Simon has a to-do list
Waterlogged by
froodle, in which Eerie experiences heavy rainfall
Wildlife by
froodle, in which Simon and Marshall go to the beach
Rainbow by
froodle, in which Dash fails to properly appreciate Michael Flatley
Jackolantern by
froodle, in which the local pumpkin patch has a problem
Marshall scowled.
"Chisel's last cheque bounced? I told you to make sure they weren't drawn on the Bank of Faerie, they never last past the first night deposit-"
"Nope," Dash interrupted, throwing himself down on the threadbare cushions and making the worm-eaten wooden frame squeak in protest. "Try again. Less terrible, more annoying."
Simon gazed thoughtfully up at the ceiling, then groaned as a thought occurred to him.
"It's flu season," he said. "The colony of disgusting blobs of ectoplasm who live in the sewers have caught a cold and now all of Eerie risks suffocation beneath the rising tide of mucus."
Dash made a face.
"No!" he said. "And gross. Is that something that's happened before?"
"Twice," said Simon and Marshall in unison.
"Why do you think the Unkind Ones knit all those tiny scarves and mittens every single winter?" asked Simon.
Dash shrugged.
"Babies?" he hazarded. "Gnomes? I don't know- wait, how does a disgusting blob of ectoplasm even wear mittens?"
"Not well," said Marshall with a remembered shiver of revulsion. "It looks sort of like somebody filled a mitten with half-set Jello and then left it outside on the hottest day of summer, for years."
"There's a certain amount of leakage," Simon agreed. "And they don't really have necks or any sort of musculature, so if you wind the scarves too tight their heads can pop off and form new, equally flu-y ectoplasm blobs. It's kind of a fraught few days."
"Yeah," said Dash. "I can imagine. But anyway, no, no ambulatory slime moulds with the flu. Not as gross, but with a greater potential for destroying the world."
Simon and Marshall sat in silence for a few moments, each mentally running through his own personal list of Eerie's various threats, oddities, and annoyances.
"I give up," said Simon eventually. Marshall nodded.
Dash laced his hands behind his head and leaned back against the tattered upholstery, half-closing his eyes.
"Well, either the great old one Cthulhu has possessed our dog, or somebody left a plate of spaghetti and meatballs where Sparky could reach it and he's eating your dinner."
Marshall made a strangled, incoherent sound of rage as he leapt to his feet, narrowly avoided tripping over Dash's discarded boots, and slammed through the kitchen door. A moment later the sound of scolding drifted through the small apartment.
"Funny," said Simon. "I could have sworn that plate was in the refrigerator, along with a post-it note saying not to touch it."
Dash shrugged.
"It's not like Sparky can read," he said.
Microwave-verse
Bonfire by
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Gingerbread by
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Leaves by
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Offspring by
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Based on Your Previous Purchases by
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Housework by
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Breakfast by
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In For The Night by
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Errands by
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Date: 2018-03-18 02:58 pm (UTC)I love tihs
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Date: 2018-03-18 12:36 pm (UTC)Learn more about LiveJournal Ratings in FAQ (https://www.dreamwidth.org/support/faqbrowse?faqid=303).