Post by journeycat on Oct 16, 2009 9:34:32 GMT 10
Title: If the World Was Made of Paper
Rating (and Warnings): G
Fairytale/Nursery Rhyme adapted: If All the World Were Paper. Short and random. See here.
Word Count: 453
Summary: A day in the life of Merric of Hollyrose. All he wants is to finish his mathematics homework. Features Neal's obnoxious musings and Reverend Faleron.
Notes: A pinch of crack! was added in the making of this fic.
-----
“I wish the entire world was made of paper.”
A slow, steady ache began to throb behind Merric’s right eye. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a couple of deep calming breaths like Kel taught him. I am stone, he thought, glancing sideways at her. She was unperturbed and absorbed in the history book she shared with Faleron. I am a clear lake without breeze...that would love to drown Queenscove. I don’t think that’s right, but I feel better already. With an effort and a barely stifled sigh, he returned to his mathematics book.
The other pages hadn’t even glanced up from their work. Either they just didn’t hear Neal anymore, or they just had an unlimited amount of patience for his ridiculous outbursts.
“And all the sea should be ink.”
“So what,” Merric snorted, unable to keep silent, “you can write dreadful poetry all over my things? No, thank you.”
Cheeks pink, Neal said loftily, “Your callow eye just has no idea what true talent is.”
“I find it hard to believe that ‘Uline, O sunny dewdrop of my moonstruck eye’ could be considered talent.”
“You—”
“Boys,” Kel interrupted impassively without taking her eyes from the page, “behave.”
They glared daggers at each other, but obediently returned to their work. Merric wasn’t sure about Neal, but he wasn’t about to cross an annoyed Kel. She may have just been thirteen, but she was a beastly thirteen. He carried a seven over to the four, adding it up to eleven. So then I take one hundred sixteen, he thought, and add that to x—but if it’s the area, maybe I add it to y—
“But what would the trees be, do you think?”
“Don’t you have something better to do than breathe?”
Neal scowled at him. “Don’t you have an imagination? An eye for transformation? A mind for creativity? An ear for—”
“Would you like to know what I have a fist for?”
“Neal, Merric,” Kel interjected patiently, “be quiet.”
Neal grumbled to himself, staring resentfully at Merric as he flipped the page viciously. The redhead ignored him. So I have one hundred sixteen, and add it to this. Should I divide that by this x-squared...? No, I multiply it, and then—
“I think all the trees would be bread and cheese.”
“Will you just shut up?” Merric exploded. “I’m trying to work.”
“I’m just saying, you ignorant carrot-head, that if all the trees were bread and cheese—”
“—Then what should we have to drink?” Kel said in exasperation. “Really, Neal, be practical and stop this silliness. It’s ridiculous. And Merric, stop whining. A pig can’t change its squeal.”
“Preach it, sister,” Faleron said, straight-faced.
Rating (and Warnings): G
Fairytale/Nursery Rhyme adapted: If All the World Were Paper. Short and random. See here.
Word Count: 453
Summary: A day in the life of Merric of Hollyrose. All he wants is to finish his mathematics homework. Features Neal's obnoxious musings and Reverend Faleron.
Notes: A pinch of crack! was added in the making of this fic.
-----
“I wish the entire world was made of paper.”
A slow, steady ache began to throb behind Merric’s right eye. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a couple of deep calming breaths like Kel taught him. I am stone, he thought, glancing sideways at her. She was unperturbed and absorbed in the history book she shared with Faleron. I am a clear lake without breeze...that would love to drown Queenscove. I don’t think that’s right, but I feel better already. With an effort and a barely stifled sigh, he returned to his mathematics book.
The other pages hadn’t even glanced up from their work. Either they just didn’t hear Neal anymore, or they just had an unlimited amount of patience for his ridiculous outbursts.
“And all the sea should be ink.”
“So what,” Merric snorted, unable to keep silent, “you can write dreadful poetry all over my things? No, thank you.”
Cheeks pink, Neal said loftily, “Your callow eye just has no idea what true talent is.”
“I find it hard to believe that ‘Uline, O sunny dewdrop of my moonstruck eye’ could be considered talent.”
“You—”
“Boys,” Kel interrupted impassively without taking her eyes from the page, “behave.”
They glared daggers at each other, but obediently returned to their work. Merric wasn’t sure about Neal, but he wasn’t about to cross an annoyed Kel. She may have just been thirteen, but she was a beastly thirteen. He carried a seven over to the four, adding it up to eleven. So then I take one hundred sixteen, he thought, and add that to x—but if it’s the area, maybe I add it to y—
“But what would the trees be, do you think?”
“Don’t you have something better to do than breathe?”
Neal scowled at him. “Don’t you have an imagination? An eye for transformation? A mind for creativity? An ear for—”
“Would you like to know what I have a fist for?”
“Neal, Merric,” Kel interjected patiently, “be quiet.”
Neal grumbled to himself, staring resentfully at Merric as he flipped the page viciously. The redhead ignored him. So I have one hundred sixteen, and add it to this. Should I divide that by this x-squared...? No, I multiply it, and then—
“I think all the trees would be bread and cheese.”
“Will you just shut up?” Merric exploded. “I’m trying to work.”
“I’m just saying, you ignorant carrot-head, that if all the trees were bread and cheese—”
“—Then what should we have to drink?” Kel said in exasperation. “Really, Neal, be practical and stop this silliness. It’s ridiculous. And Merric, stop whining. A pig can’t change its squeal.”
“Preach it, sister,” Faleron said, straight-faced.