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rainbowfic2015-07-23 08:42 pm
starphotographs) wrote in rainbowfic2015-07-23 08:42 pm
Milk Bottle 5
Name: starphotographs
Story: Universe B
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Milk Bottle, Summer Carnival), Canvas, Nubs
Characters: Satchel (POV), Frankie
Colors: Milk Bottle 5 (Goldfish pond)
Word Count: 573
Rating: PG
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Some fish have a sandwich, or whatever.
Note: Elaboration on an event that got mentioned in the first segment of Handlebars. Is this Nubs? (I'm tagging it as Nubs for now.)
Cut it out, or I’m not taking you anywhere anymore!
It was still a little early for that threat. Actually, nothing Frankie ever did quite got to the point where I actually had to say it. Either because I didn’t have the heart to tell him, or I just didn’t give enough of a crap. He did stupid stuff that made me mad, but I couldn’t really hold him against it, because doing stupid stuff was the whole point of these trips.
Still, I was thinking it. I made that sandwich for him, not some stranger’s giant goldfish.
We’d snuck into this person’s yard, as planned, to look at their fish pond and eat our “lunch,” such as it was. The pond was rimmed with perfectly butt-sized rocks, and a little green and scummy, but not so much that you couldn’t see all the fish. A mossy, bleached ceramic frog sat in the middle. I tried to touch the frog, but almost fell in the slimy water. Frankie took one bite of his peanut butter sandwich and decided the fish wanted it more than he did. This offended me, because I was the one who made that sandwich, and I thought he was being an ungrateful little turd.
“Frankie, that ain’t fish food!”
“I know.”
He kept ripping chunks off the sandwich. The huge black/orange/white fish kept fighting over the wet bread. I didn’t know why. Wet bread is gross.
“Seriously, if I knew you weren’t gonna eat it, I wouldn’t have made it.”
“You gave me the sandwich! It’s mine now, and what I do with it isn’t your beeswax.”
“I know, but… Actually, you’re right. Go on ahead.”
Frankie interpreted “go on ahead” as “throw in the whole rest of the sandwich at once.” The giant fish were all thrashing, everyone trying to get a nice big bite. It was actually kind of exciting. More exciting than eating a shitty sandwich a little kid slapped together in half a minute, anyway. The peanut butter wasn’t even the good brand. Let the fish have it.
We were both so absorbed in this that the sound of a sliding door groaning open a few yards away almost made us jump out of our skins. Frankie looked so startled that I worried Mom had been right all along, and his heart was about to explode or something.
The door opened all the way, and an old man in slippers and a lumberjack shirt came barreling out, brandishing his phone at us. He swore and said a lot of things about the police. We were frozen with fear. Then he looked like he was actually starting to make the call. I snapped out of it.
I grabbed Frankie by the arm, we started running, and then bolted under a bush like escaped zoo animals. We crashed through the hedge wall, and my brother whined, the way he always whined about everything, that the branches were poking him. I made up something about how the cops were going to shoot us if we didn’t hurry, and that shut him up good.
My bike was waiting for us on the sidewalk. I got Frankie settled on the handlebars, then pedaled like hell.
We made our grand escape, and rode off into the sunset. Except the sun wasn’t setting, because it was two in the afternoon. But, you get the point.
It was time for the next adventure.
starphotographsStory: Universe B
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Milk Bottle, Summer Carnival), Canvas, Nubs
Characters: Satchel (POV), Frankie
Colors: Milk Bottle 5 (Goldfish pond)
Word Count: 573
Rating: PG
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Some fish have a sandwich, or whatever.
Note: Elaboration on an event that got mentioned in the first segment of Handlebars. Is this Nubs? (I'm tagging it as Nubs for now.)
Cut it out, or I’m not taking you anywhere anymore!
It was still a little early for that threat. Actually, nothing Frankie ever did quite got to the point where I actually had to say it. Either because I didn’t have the heart to tell him, or I just didn’t give enough of a crap. He did stupid stuff that made me mad, but I couldn’t really hold him against it, because doing stupid stuff was the whole point of these trips.
Still, I was thinking it. I made that sandwich for him, not some stranger’s giant goldfish.
We’d snuck into this person’s yard, as planned, to look at their fish pond and eat our “lunch,” such as it was. The pond was rimmed with perfectly butt-sized rocks, and a little green and scummy, but not so much that you couldn’t see all the fish. A mossy, bleached ceramic frog sat in the middle. I tried to touch the frog, but almost fell in the slimy water. Frankie took one bite of his peanut butter sandwich and decided the fish wanted it more than he did. This offended me, because I was the one who made that sandwich, and I thought he was being an ungrateful little turd.
“Frankie, that ain’t fish food!”
“I know.”
He kept ripping chunks off the sandwich. The huge black/orange/white fish kept fighting over the wet bread. I didn’t know why. Wet bread is gross.
“Seriously, if I knew you weren’t gonna eat it, I wouldn’t have made it.”
“You gave me the sandwich! It’s mine now, and what I do with it isn’t your beeswax.”
“I know, but… Actually, you’re right. Go on ahead.”
Frankie interpreted “go on ahead” as “throw in the whole rest of the sandwich at once.” The giant fish were all thrashing, everyone trying to get a nice big bite. It was actually kind of exciting. More exciting than eating a shitty sandwich a little kid slapped together in half a minute, anyway. The peanut butter wasn’t even the good brand. Let the fish have it.
We were both so absorbed in this that the sound of a sliding door groaning open a few yards away almost made us jump out of our skins. Frankie looked so startled that I worried Mom had been right all along, and his heart was about to explode or something.
The door opened all the way, and an old man in slippers and a lumberjack shirt came barreling out, brandishing his phone at us. He swore and said a lot of things about the police. We were frozen with fear. Then he looked like he was actually starting to make the call. I snapped out of it.
I grabbed Frankie by the arm, we started running, and then bolted under a bush like escaped zoo animals. We crashed through the hedge wall, and my brother whined, the way he always whined about everything, that the branches were poking him. I made up something about how the cops were going to shoot us if we didn’t hurry, and that shut him up good.
My bike was waiting for us on the sidewalk. I got Frankie settled on the handlebars, then pedaled like hell.
We made our grand escape, and rode off into the sunset. Except the sun wasn’t setting, because it was two in the afternoon. But, you get the point.
It was time for the next adventure.
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