I have not participated in this because any post would be about school, being broke, or politics, all of which in turn suck and are over done. Instead, I will post the beginning of a story I started writing tonight. It's only 2 pages in, but I think it's kind of fun and might give me back the creative energy to be a good enough person to be the awesomeest Bob Fantastic I can be!
So here's something completely different and hopefully more heartlifting than political television ads.
“Wake up dear, wake up,” cried Robert Fantastic to his pleasantly pregnantly plump slumbering wife. “I spun up some breakfast for us Elizabeth. It’s an incredibly-huge-never –bigger type of day!” Before waiting for a response Robert skipped out of the perfectly arched doorway that led into the couple’s colorful, cordial, and all together inviting sleeping chamber, or bedroom as it is provincially called. Once downstairs, Robert turned a corner without stopping. His red and white striped socks sent him almost sliding into a large fishbowl. Its stand, a somewhat precarious little table that balanced on one wheel shook. Fish have to get around some way and unicycles were all the rage. The fish inside went from a beautiful rainbow pattern to an irritated red hue. It swam back and forth quickly and the table steadied.
“Sorry Rod, gotta finish breakfast, I left eggbeaters waiting and I’m afraid they might’ve gone a little crazy while I was waking my beautiful sleeping Moople!” Inside the kitchen beaters were beating and whiskers were whisking while a giant flipperator flipped flapjacks. There were few surfaces not covered in some sort of flower, sugar, yolk, or glittery icing, but right in the middle of the room, on the island, an oasis, untouched by the culinary disaster were two plates beautifully decorated with ever changing images of Autumn leaves falling. Robert pulled out his wand and a bright blue bedazzled fork and waved them in the air while humming a little cooking tune to encourage a perfect presentation. Out of all of the scattered bowls and skillets came food soaring towards the plates. It all froze just before colliding in midair. With a sweeping motion Robert brought the wand and fork down and stopped humming. The food then carefully organized itself on the plates in what could only be described as an artistic breakfast.
“Thank you very much,” said Robert to the disaster of a dining area. He picked up the plates and nodded to two steaming mugs of hot cocoa topped with a glittery pink whipped cream solution that smelled slightly of strawberries and roses. The mugs floated and followed him back up the stairs. Before leaving, he surveyed the damage, and muttered a few nearly inaudible words of clean up. A few of the utinsals flew into a pile in the sink and a little broom began sweeping up all of the food that had been scattered. Sweeping up is litteral in this situation as more food was going into the air than anywhere near the bin in the corner where they kept the leftover mess in case mess was needed later. Robert shrugged, he had never been good at that part of cooking, but the food was always splendid.
He carefully made his way up the stairs, careful not to drop the meticulously homespun meal onto the cushy violet carpet. Flowers bloomed along the edges of the steps and brought life to the stair well. He could’ve levitated the plates as well, but Robert sometimes liked to have his hands in his own handywandwork.
“Breakfast is served,” he shouted in a voice too excited to be sympathetic to the woman still snoring loudly. The sun shone through the window onto her face and her mountain of a belly. The clock on the wall held a nine in one hand and two zeroes in the other. It smiled and looked over to Robert, wondering if it should go off as it was told or just keep telling time in silence. Robert nodded and set the food down on the night stand. “Mooptroop, this just won’t do.”
The end for now...
(and no Morgan is not Pregnant)
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