BeakerSqueedom
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- May 23, 2007
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Chit-chat stabbed your back!
He slid smoothly over the wooden surface and toward her slender fingers for a look. He tilted his head to the side in facsination at the lines that marked her pale palm. How hands facilitated a human’s everyday activities, he thought. He settled himself in the middle of her hand comfortably, pretending it was his own hand—something he wished he had. He gazed up at her breifly before asking his surprised wife for tea.
“Tha right there is me wife.” He introduced.
“Hiii, Mrs. Worm.” She greeted, waving her hand excitedly.
The pink apron around her chubby form was flattering (with the words “I didn’t wash my hands” imprinted in black) for the irony presented in the phrase. She spared a wink as a replacement for a proper greeting and trailed off the the kitchen humming gleefully to herself.
“Shoulda told me you was gonna have a guest over," She cried from the kitchen, “I woulda gotten dressed!"
“’Orry ‘bout tha, love…truth is…you never wear clothes.” He replied honestly.
“That’s the point of the joke, sweetheart!" She said.
Their laughter played musically in the room.
The warmth of the couple was truly inspirational. It reminded Coffee of the elderly back home who had commited themselves to a long lasting relationship. She supposed it was the purity of their love that made her believe in the most fanciful of dreams.
“Do you need some help?" Coffee asked.
“Nah, you just sit yourself down.” She said.
She wondered how she was able to prepare something so large in such a vast place. Her size should have proved troublesome by now. Her wonderings were answered when…
“Tea.” A druid announced, handing them tiny teacups.
She observed the teacup excitedly, “It’s so tiny!" She squealed.
“Of course! If it were any bigger, we’d fall right through!" Mr. Worm chuckled.
“Yeah, thanks…now tell me how to get to Jareth’s castle?" She asked, trying her best not to sound rude.
“Soon enough.” He replied.
The process repeated itself over and over again. Mr. Worm would talk, and his wife would willfully join in the chatter. For most of her waiting, she needed to steer them back on track, but they distracted themselves constantly with the simplest of things. She tried to persuade them away from the most unrelated topics whenever they zoomed off to one thing or another, and they’re attention span only worsened the more she insisted.
“You’re teeth are quite near immaculate…” Mrs. Worm commented.
After many pleas unheard from the girl, the queasy feeling in her stomach was replaced by a sense of urgency. She stalked the ticking clock, looking at Mr. Worm in disbelief. She had been here for an hour listening to their talks of man-eating flowers, cannibal logs, bewitched goblins, and even chickens. She looked around suspiciously, at last noticing other creatures gaurding the door. Her eyes widened a little…
“You filthy little bugger," she started, “you’re stalling!"
Concern blazed in the couple’s eyes the moment she uncovered their clever plot. They thought they had her fooled, and they did. They managed to suck down an hour which granted them minor success. Every hour was precious, as indeed the Labyrinth had become even more complex.
“Getting out, getting out, getting out!" She shrieked, running out of the room.
“After ‘er!" They cried.
Goblins hopped over the tables, giggling as they flew over her. She dodged a couple from sheer dumb luck. Her dodges became too low, sending her on the floor. The glass cut parts of her body, making her screech in pain.
“How could you?" She moaned.
The fast-paced battle became violent as she clutched a handful of glass. She hurled the pieces at them furiously. Some who were unlucky began to clutch their injured parts while bellowing obscenities that'd make grandma wail. The banging of the tables, the trembling of the windows, and the crashing of glass objects made this quite the battlefield. The confusion increased her ever-rising panic.
Had she noticed the blood, she would have fainted.
She patted the wall for an opening.
There was none.