Title This
Jun. 28th, 2012 09:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gothrockrulzWritten for Challenge #10a: Title This over at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
writerverse. Concrit welcome!
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: Original
Pairings (if any): None
Warnings: None
Summary: Macy's babysitter has everything figured out--almost.
Macy was safely tucked in bed, armed with a teddy bear beside her and a cup of water on her nightstand. I skipped as quietly as I could down the stairs into the den.
Her parents weren't due home for another hour or two. Time for my favorite part of babysitting--turning on the TV!
Grinning, I flipped through channels until I found an appropriately sappy movie on Lifetime. I arranged a knitted throw on the couch to make a good-sized lump, then settled into my hiding place behind the couch itself. This was going to be fun . . .
Macy had already asked me all sorts of profound, impossible questions, and then nearly gotten lost. Oh, okay, I had nearly lost her. Case in point, all the usual babysitting adventures had played out.
All, except for the I-can't-sleep routine. But I was sure I had this one covered.
The movie had played into the third crying scene in a row by the time I heard Macy's feet thumping down the stairs.
“Alissa?”
I smirked as, peeking over the couch, I watched Macy stare expectantly at the lump of worsted yarn. My smile faded as she looked straight at me, then at the lump, then back to me.
“Are you playing hide and seek with a blanket?” she asked, brow crinkled with confusion. I could see whatever respect she had for me, as a “big girl,” falling away. She thought I was crazy—if she hadn't already thought so before.
“I'll—I'll tell you when you're older,” I said, standing up and trying to recover my dignity with a casual flip of my hair. I loved that line—it was the all-purpose, socially-acceptable alternative to shut-up-or-die.
“There is something I have to tell you—-right now,” said Macy.
I crossed my arms, assuming my best pensive expression. “Lemme guess—the house is on fire? Your nightlight's out of batteries? Your teddy bear growled at you?”
Macy patiently shook her head at each of my suggestions. Then I noticed she wasn't even carrying the teddy bear.
“I know!” I said, walking over to her and hunkering down so I was at her eye level. “Mr. Hugglesnort ran away, didn't he? Went to see the girl teddy bear next door, maybe?”
Macy nodded, then shook her head. “He ran away, but not next door.”
I nodded with the utmost gravity. “Where?”
Macy grimaced, as if her answer suddenly decided to stick in her throat and never come out. It was then that, over the heartbroken sobbing of the TV heroine, I heard an odd sloshing noise come from the floor above us.
“Down the toilet,” said Macy finally.
I sprinted up those stairs so fast, I think I left my sense of humor behind for good.
writerverse. Concrit welcome!Rating: G
Original/Fandom: Original
Pairings (if any): None
Warnings: None
Summary: Macy's babysitter has everything figured out--almost.
Macy was safely tucked in bed, armed with a teddy bear beside her and a cup of water on her nightstand. I skipped as quietly as I could down the stairs into the den.
Her parents weren't due home for another hour or two. Time for my favorite part of babysitting--turning on the TV!
Grinning, I flipped through channels until I found an appropriately sappy movie on Lifetime. I arranged a knitted throw on the couch to make a good-sized lump, then settled into my hiding place behind the couch itself. This was going to be fun . . .
Macy had already asked me all sorts of profound, impossible questions, and then nearly gotten lost. Oh, okay, I had nearly lost her. Case in point, all the usual babysitting adventures had played out.
All, except for the I-can't-sleep routine. But I was sure I had this one covered.
The movie had played into the third crying scene in a row by the time I heard Macy's feet thumping down the stairs.
“Alissa?”
I smirked as, peeking over the couch, I watched Macy stare expectantly at the lump of worsted yarn. My smile faded as she looked straight at me, then at the lump, then back to me.
“Are you playing hide and seek with a blanket?” she asked, brow crinkled with confusion. I could see whatever respect she had for me, as a “big girl,” falling away. She thought I was crazy—if she hadn't already thought so before.
“I'll—I'll tell you when you're older,” I said, standing up and trying to recover my dignity with a casual flip of my hair. I loved that line—it was the all-purpose, socially-acceptable alternative to shut-up-or-die.
“There is something I have to tell you—-right now,” said Macy.
I crossed my arms, assuming my best pensive expression. “Lemme guess—the house is on fire? Your nightlight's out of batteries? Your teddy bear growled at you?”
Macy patiently shook her head at each of my suggestions. Then I noticed she wasn't even carrying the teddy bear.
“I know!” I said, walking over to her and hunkering down so I was at her eye level. “Mr. Hugglesnort ran away, didn't he? Went to see the girl teddy bear next door, maybe?”
Macy nodded, then shook her head. “He ran away, but not next door.”
I nodded with the utmost gravity. “Where?”
Macy grimaced, as if her answer suddenly decided to stick in her throat and never come out. It was then that, over the heartbroken sobbing of the TV heroine, I heard an odd sloshing noise come from the floor above us.
“Down the toilet,” said Macy finally.
I sprinted up those stairs so fast, I think I left my sense of humor behind for good.
