06-24-2015, 03:42 PM
erling.
He is free, but only for a moment.
Isn’t this when I wake up? He wonders, looking around, trying to figure out where he is. The room is huge, and pink – much like the color of Erling’s new body – and there is a young girl, seated, brushing her blonde hair. There’s the door –
“PONY!!!!!!” The girl squeals, and Erling would have jumped if his body hadn’t stopped cooperating. He is not accustomed to this level of enthusiasm, particularly when it is directed towards him. The girl comes flying from across the room, roughly grabs Erling and picks him up, shaking him excitedly. “Pony pony pony pony pony!!! YOU. ARE. SO. BEAUTIFUL.” She cries, pumping Erling up and down to emphasize every word. He is dizzy, helpless in her hands, but kind of likes the attention.
“I will call you Mrs. Flufferson!”
Excuse me, I’m a mister, he tries to say in protest, but no words come out. What an inconvenient time to become both mute and paralyzed.
“Who wants to ride Mrs. Flufferson today?!” The young girl walks over to her toy box, wide-open, and shuffles the remaining toys around. “Beary? No… No, snakes can’t ride horses… OH STACY THE COWGIRL!” She shrieks, picking up the cowgirl that had helped Erling escape. She drops Erling to the ground, focusing all of her attention on the cowgirl, and he lands with a snap – a piece of his tail has broken. Oh well, he didn’t use it much anyway. “Ugh Stacy you are SO UGLY. Not pretty enough to ride Mrs. Flufferson,” She says, disappointed, tossing the cowgirl across her room and returning to the toy box.
“What about CERA!” She says, growling for emphasis, and picks up a thickly-built plastic Triceratops, a fair amount larger and sturdier than Erling. There was really no good reason, that Erling could see, for the dinosaur to be riding a pink pony, but who was he to judge one’s life choices?
The girl sits down cross-legged on the floor, picking up Erling – Mrs. Flufferson – and lets out a loud groan as she notices a chunk of his plastic tail missing. “HOW ARE YOU ALREADY BROKEN? UGH!” She yells, slamming Erling down on the ground in frustration. He hears another snap, but feels nothing, which seems unusual. If he were broken, he would feel it, right? This time it is only a crack on one of his front legs – nothing has broken off completely. He is less enthused about this particular form of attention.
“LET’S PLAY FIGHTING INSTEAD!” She yells excitedly, placing both Erling and the dinosaur on the ground standing up, and lying herself down to face them eye-to-eye. He was not particularly thrilled about this development. He had never been a fighter, and any fight that he would possibly get into in the distant (or, maybe not distant) future would not be pretty. Erling wasn’t built for fighting in the real world, where he did not have a broken leg, and he could not say that he was looking forward to “play fighting” with this massive dinosaur. But he was still mute and paralyzed, so, what can you do?
All he could hope for was that he would die and wake up back in the Meadow.
The girl picks up Erling and the dinosaur, one in each hand, and WHAM – in one swift motion Erling is smashed into the dinosaur, his front legs and belly colliding with the head and horns of the Triceratops. He expects it to hurt, but it doesn’t; all he feels is the pressure of the collision. The girl seems annoyed that neither toy had broken on the first hit, and with a loud, childish growl, she furiously slams Cera onto Erling’s back, repeatedly. He hears the cracks but can’t identify where they are coming from – his back? his neck? what was left of his tail?
“YOU ARE SUCH A STUPID PONY!” She yells, and for a moment Erling wonders if she would be less offended if she knew he was actually a horse, not a pony – and then he is flying through the air. He collides with the wall, and as he slides down the wall into the trash can, he can feel pieces of himself missing.
Can I wake up now? He wonders, thankful that he at least feels no pain.
Isn’t this when I wake up? He wonders, looking around, trying to figure out where he is. The room is huge, and pink – much like the color of Erling’s new body – and there is a young girl, seated, brushing her blonde hair. There’s the door –
“PONY!!!!!!” The girl squeals, and Erling would have jumped if his body hadn’t stopped cooperating. He is not accustomed to this level of enthusiasm, particularly when it is directed towards him. The girl comes flying from across the room, roughly grabs Erling and picks him up, shaking him excitedly. “Pony pony pony pony pony!!! YOU. ARE. SO. BEAUTIFUL.” She cries, pumping Erling up and down to emphasize every word. He is dizzy, helpless in her hands, but kind of likes the attention.
“I will call you Mrs. Flufferson!”
Excuse me, I’m a mister, he tries to say in protest, but no words come out. What an inconvenient time to become both mute and paralyzed.
“Who wants to ride Mrs. Flufferson today?!” The young girl walks over to her toy box, wide-open, and shuffles the remaining toys around. “Beary? No… No, snakes can’t ride horses… OH STACY THE COWGIRL!” She shrieks, picking up the cowgirl that had helped Erling escape. She drops Erling to the ground, focusing all of her attention on the cowgirl, and he lands with a snap – a piece of his tail has broken. Oh well, he didn’t use it much anyway. “Ugh Stacy you are SO UGLY. Not pretty enough to ride Mrs. Flufferson,” She says, disappointed, tossing the cowgirl across her room and returning to the toy box.
“What about CERA!” She says, growling for emphasis, and picks up a thickly-built plastic Triceratops, a fair amount larger and sturdier than Erling. There was really no good reason, that Erling could see, for the dinosaur to be riding a pink pony, but who was he to judge one’s life choices?
The girl sits down cross-legged on the floor, picking up Erling – Mrs. Flufferson – and lets out a loud groan as she notices a chunk of his plastic tail missing. “HOW ARE YOU ALREADY BROKEN? UGH!” She yells, slamming Erling down on the ground in frustration. He hears another snap, but feels nothing, which seems unusual. If he were broken, he would feel it, right? This time it is only a crack on one of his front legs – nothing has broken off completely. He is less enthused about this particular form of attention.
“LET’S PLAY FIGHTING INSTEAD!” She yells excitedly, placing both Erling and the dinosaur on the ground standing up, and lying herself down to face them eye-to-eye. He was not particularly thrilled about this development. He had never been a fighter, and any fight that he would possibly get into in the distant (or, maybe not distant) future would not be pretty. Erling wasn’t built for fighting in the real world, where he did not have a broken leg, and he could not say that he was looking forward to “play fighting” with this massive dinosaur. But he was still mute and paralyzed, so, what can you do?
All he could hope for was that he would die and wake up back in the Meadow.
The girl picks up Erling and the dinosaur, one in each hand, and WHAM – in one swift motion Erling is smashed into the dinosaur, his front legs and belly colliding with the head and horns of the Triceratops. He expects it to hurt, but it doesn’t; all he feels is the pressure of the collision. The girl seems annoyed that neither toy had broken on the first hit, and with a loud, childish growl, she furiously slams Cera onto Erling’s back, repeatedly. He hears the cracks but can’t identify where they are coming from – his back? his neck? what was left of his tail?
“YOU ARE SUCH A STUPID PONY!” She yells, and for a moment Erling wonders if she would be less offended if she knew he was actually a horse, not a pony – and then he is flying through the air. He collides with the wall, and as he slides down the wall into the trash can, he can feel pieces of himself missing.
Can I wake up now? He wonders, thankful that he at least feels no pain.