Janice picked herself up, along with her organs, and found herself filled with rage (and her organs). Her dignity had returned; she was ready to make Barbara pay for the emotional distress she had put her through. Janice rushed home; her heart racing with excitement and her snake-like hair flowing in the wind rapidly. Janice burst through the white, double french doors to find NaCl searching frantically for Doug.
“Move out of the way, you little brat!” Janice screeched as she ran towards the elevator. “And get out of my house; you’re no longer welcome here.”
The doors closed with a ding, and Janice’s only hit single, from when she was a one hit wonder, began playing. The playful tune only fueled her anger, she went past the tenth floor. The doors opened and left her on the twelfth floor; her bedroom. She headed towards her closet and began rummaging through a closet filled with a variety of tight and sparkly dresses, still, she settled on a military combat uniform. If she was going to do this, she needed an outfit that would withstand the task; an outfit that screamed authority. She made her way into the elevator that would take her to the kitchen, the thirteenth floor, to pour herself a glass of thick, red liquid that closely resembled blood – that was why she liked this wine so much. Doug poked his head out of the one window of his room; he could hear his mother’s hectic movements, which for once, did not include the click of heels. He decided to check what was going on, thus he put on his rock climbing gear, left the comfort of the attic (located above the kitchen)
and began to scale down the climbing wall.
“Mother, are you okay?” He asked, out of breath but still with a touch of sympathy. “I noticed that you didn’t have heels on and- WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?!”
Janice turned to Doug and smiled like the grinch did in the animated movie.
“This?” she said while spinning, “This is something I stole from the troops when they came back home those two months. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion, for a time when I need to make my opponents suffer.”
“Mom what do you mean?”
“Doug, I’m running for president. I will make sure the pottyarchy remains intact 5ever”
“Que?” El dijo. “Ya vinieron las vacas?”
“Donde esta la biblioteca?” le pregunto Janice a Doug. “I mean, there’s casserole in the fridge. Just make sure you use your plates.”
“Do I have to use the bowls?” Doug asked, even though he knew what the answer would be, as he began to slip into his rock climbing gear once more.
Ever since he could remember, his mother had only allowed him to eat out of dog bowls. He had gotten used to the bowls, but he still wished he could use spoons and forks and knives – specially when he was served raw steak. With a sigh of disappointment, he descended down the wall and into the main floor to warm up the casserole. He put the casserole in the microwave, not realizing that NaCl was standing behind him.
“Doug I’m sorry,” Nancy said as she hugged him from behind. “I never meant to hurt your feelings.”
“I forgive you Nancy, but only because I need your help,” Doug turned around and gave her a sad smile.
Doug tucked a stray hair behind Nancy’s cat-like ears. “My mom plans to run for president; she wants to keep the pottyarchy alive for decades. We need to stop her.”
Nancy grinned and inched closer, “I’ll help you with anything you want, Doug, because I-”
The microwave beeped, interrupting her sentence, cooling the romance that had been boiling underneath their skins for quite a while now.
Doug pushed her away softly, “Sorry, I have to go eat. Meet me in Betty White’s soon-to-be mausoleum once the sun goes down.”
Nancy nodded in response and watched him claw at the rocks as he climbed up the wall.
He sat on his bone-patterned bed, thinking about what had just happened, and adjusted his squeaky toys to make room for his bowl. He had been so close to kissing NaCl; he should’ve taken the risk. Doug tried not to get casserole all over his face, but it was hard to when he was cursed with a human mouth and not a snout. It was no time for pondering on things he wished were different though, he had to focus on how he was going to sabotage his mother’s campaign.
Once he was done eating, paper and string flew out of drawers, as he began to construct the model and to plan on how to bring down the pottyarchy.
Continue the Adventure: