Categories > Original > Fantasy > MegaMistake
The grey airship touches down on the Land of Fog and Magic. Google throws down the rope ladder and climbs off first. The ground under their feet is squelchy and mulchy, and gives when he braces his knees.
His feet. His knees. Not their.
"Hey! Google! Catch!" calls Dot, throwing down a big basket. Google balks, then manages to snag the basket by the handle. It smells like bacon and bread, a good if weird combination with the slightly smoky air around them.
"I have wine!" shouts Dot, as she swings her feet over the edge and starts to shimmy down the ladder. True enough, a bottle of wine is buttoned into the front of her shirt. Her feet are bare and slightly pink. They remind Google of tulip petals.
"I'm Sure This Calls For A Toast. Do You Have Glasses?" he asks her, when she is close enough.
"Nah. We'll just have to drink from the bottle. Cheers," says Dot happily, reaching into the pocket of her skirt for a cigarette.
The impromptu picnic goes very well, despite the fact that neither want to sit down on the wet earth. Dot smokes through two cigarettes, and the bacon-bread smell turns out to be bacon sandwiches, the height of her culinary skill.
Google feels a splitting headache work it's way up nearly into his eyes. Is it The Something? Can it be?
Pain sneaks through in dizzying circles, and he is aware that she is watching him expectantly.
"Yes?" he asks, raising a hand to his temple.
"Dance with me?" she asks, holding out her hands.
He can't say no to her, so they stand and he spins her into Google's arms. Dot laughs, silly and stupid, and Google starts to waltz her around, mostly because it's the only dance he's familiar with.
Dot makes a move, and he slows, shifting back and forth, holding onto her. The Something can't find her. Or him.
Dot's eyes are half closed. She can't wait to see her son, to see if he lost the weight or if he grew a little bit. She wonders if he lost his glasses.
Out of the corner of her eye, she catches a small movement. Dot's eyes fly open and she follows it up a tree.
"Everything alright?" asks Google. His voice is tight, strained.
Dot closes her eyes as hard as she can.
"Everything's okay. Everything is okay."
His feet. His knees. Not their.
"Hey! Google! Catch!" calls Dot, throwing down a big basket. Google balks, then manages to snag the basket by the handle. It smells like bacon and bread, a good if weird combination with the slightly smoky air around them.
"I have wine!" shouts Dot, as she swings her feet over the edge and starts to shimmy down the ladder. True enough, a bottle of wine is buttoned into the front of her shirt. Her feet are bare and slightly pink. They remind Google of tulip petals.
"I'm Sure This Calls For A Toast. Do You Have Glasses?" he asks her, when she is close enough.
"Nah. We'll just have to drink from the bottle. Cheers," says Dot happily, reaching into the pocket of her skirt for a cigarette.
The impromptu picnic goes very well, despite the fact that neither want to sit down on the wet earth. Dot smokes through two cigarettes, and the bacon-bread smell turns out to be bacon sandwiches, the height of her culinary skill.
Google feels a splitting headache work it's way up nearly into his eyes. Is it The Something? Can it be?
Pain sneaks through in dizzying circles, and he is aware that she is watching him expectantly.
"Yes?" he asks, raising a hand to his temple.
"Dance with me?" she asks, holding out her hands.
He can't say no to her, so they stand and he spins her into Google's arms. Dot laughs, silly and stupid, and Google starts to waltz her around, mostly because it's the only dance he's familiar with.
Dot makes a move, and he slows, shifting back and forth, holding onto her. The Something can't find her. Or him.
Dot's eyes are half closed. She can't wait to see her son, to see if he lost the weight or if he grew a little bit. She wonders if he lost his glasses.
Out of the corner of her eye, she catches a small movement. Dot's eyes fly open and she follows it up a tree.
"Everything alright?" asks Google. His voice is tight, strained.
Dot closes her eyes as hard as she can.
"Everything's okay. Everything is okay."
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