08-10-2016, 07:48 PM
Why did they allow it, allow him? Allow. That is all Fart could sum this up to, the others had allowed him this closeness, allowed him in their space. The fact that they wanted him to stay, that they would like that, the idea was lost on him. There had only ever been once other occurrence where someone wanted him around, liked him to be there. That was not here though, that was there, wherever there was. Fart wished he knew too, where that other place was because that is where Grumble could be found, that is where he was brave and smart and loved.
Here he’s not so sure. Of course they said they would like him to stay, where they just polite? Fart couldn’t blame them for not wanting to be rude and yet his ears perked just so atop his hairless head.While he is very hard on himself there is always that whisper in the back of his mind, that gentle caress of hope. And while he knew he should get them up he also couldn’t help but entertain that miniscule speck of, what if?
There he stood, bright and green and awkward between the two. He watched the grey from his muddy brown eyes, even seemed to perk when he mentioned how unique his name was, unique like him. Well, that was one way of putting it wasn’t it? Suppose it is the nicest thing someone has said to him in a long time, in this world, in Beqanna. “I guess it is. I guess I am. That’s a nice thing to say,” he admitted, not knowing how else to respond to a compliment. Maybe once, a long time ago, he had been taught proper manners, had been told to say thank you. One forgets so easily though, rules and replies are lost when not in practice and boy, he had been out of practice.
“Oh, I don’t know that there are many more, the girls. Not nice ones, most the time they run me off. They call me names but not the one I have.” It was both thoughtful and somber that admittance. While it was terrible truly to be picked on, to be cursed or bullied, Fart understood. He understood why they did it, he understood that he was ugly and smelly and small. Part of him was under the impression that it was normal treatment, because it was, normal, for him anyhow. “Lucky, yeah that’s me.” He thought that was a bit funny, he even laughed, a fleeting sound. Fart was nothing near lucky, never had been, not to his knowledge. This, this was likely the closest he could have claimed to be to luck, to having that fickle fiend in his grasp. “I’m not sure I believe in luck,” he commented off hand, half-heartedly because he knew luck was too good to be true. Luck was something he had never had.
Here he’s not so sure. Of course they said they would like him to stay, where they just polite? Fart couldn’t blame them for not wanting to be rude and yet his ears perked just so atop his hairless head.While he is very hard on himself there is always that whisper in the back of his mind, that gentle caress of hope. And while he knew he should get them up he also couldn’t help but entertain that miniscule speck of, what if?
There he stood, bright and green and awkward between the two. He watched the grey from his muddy brown eyes, even seemed to perk when he mentioned how unique his name was, unique like him. Well, that was one way of putting it wasn’t it? Suppose it is the nicest thing someone has said to him in a long time, in this world, in Beqanna. “I guess it is. I guess I am. That’s a nice thing to say,” he admitted, not knowing how else to respond to a compliment. Maybe once, a long time ago, he had been taught proper manners, had been told to say thank you. One forgets so easily though, rules and replies are lost when not in practice and boy, he had been out of practice.
“Oh, I don’t know that there are many more, the girls. Not nice ones, most the time they run me off. They call me names but not the one I have.” It was both thoughtful and somber that admittance. While it was terrible truly to be picked on, to be cursed or bullied, Fart understood. He understood why they did it, he understood that he was ugly and smelly and small. Part of him was under the impression that it was normal treatment, because it was, normal, for him anyhow. “Lucky, yeah that’s me.” He thought that was a bit funny, he even laughed, a fleeting sound. Fart was nothing near lucky, never had been, not to his knowledge. This, this was likely the closest he could have claimed to be to luck, to having that fickle fiend in his grasp. “I’m not sure I believe in luck,” he commented off hand, half-heartedly because he knew luck was too good to be true. Luck was something he had never had.
dont you know that youre toxic?
