Hours had passed since Small Fry bounced off Yamless’ porch, headed home to pack her things. Yamless spent those peaceful hours wandering around her home, gathering items for the trip. Pitan would be home any moment and she wanted to be prepared for his arrival so she could explain everything in detail before her departure. She glanced at her suitcase with tightened lips and nodded in approval before zipping it closed and pulling it down the stairs to the entrance.
The front door swung opened and Pitan waltzed through as Yamless heaved the wheeled-suitcase off the last step and into the foyer. The luggage bounced off the ground, landing with a thud. Pitan ran over to help his wife with the heavy item, sweeping it off to the side in a rolling motion.
“What are you doing, Sweet Pea?” he asked, casually going about the day-to-day routine of unlacing his boots and placing them under the jackets hanging on the wall. He looked up at Yamless, curious about the contents in her luggage, wondering what she might be up to.
“I’m going on an adventure, Pitan!” Yamless squealed. “Small Fry invited herself, unfortunately, but that’s okay. Maybe she’ll be of some help, who knows. Anyway, I thought long and hard this morning while on the porch and it hit me. It hit me like a sack of pineapples! I must save our people.” She hadn’t stopped to breathe in between her sentences and ended it with a big inhale.
“Okaaay… An epic adventure to save our people. I like it, but… where to and what are you saving them from?” Pitan moved around the entrance, placing his lunchkit just so, twisting the family picture back to straight again, all without realizing he was doing it. He turned to face Yamless, raising an extremely hairy eyebrow as he did.
“I need to bring color back to the community, Pitan!” Yamless stopped for a second, collecting her thoughts. “Without fineliners, we will fall on dark times. I fear to see the day, so I thought I’d best get on making sure it doesn’t happen.”
Just as Pitan opened his mouth to speak, Small Fry came crashing through the door. “Hey, Yamless! I was thinking. Well, I was thinking that we probably need matching boots for this adventure, right? Furry on the top. We’ll be like explorers and shit. Here!” She tossed a pair of boots across the room, into Yamless’ arms.
“Oh, hey, Pitan. Did you hear? We’re going on an adventure!” Small Fry shoved her margarita into Pitan’s hands. The contents splashed over the rim of the glass, and Pitan cringed. “Hold this, will ya?” She leaned over to untie her boots, grumbling to herself as she did.
Pitan placed Small Fry’s drink on the shelf beside him, quickly yanking a napkin from his shirt pocket. He wiped the liquid off his hands, tossing the napkin into a basket by the basement door when he finished. “What in Gnome’s Kingdom is going on here, ladies?” he said, frowning as he examined the sticky spot on his shirt sleeve.
“Come on, Pitan. Your ears are bigger than any in all the lands… We’re going on a stinking ad-ven-ture” Small Fry drew out the last word in her sentence like she was speaking to an unruly baby Feral. “Ad.Ven.Ture. Say it with me, now! And give me my drink back while you’re at it.” Small Fry pushed by Pitan, over to the shelf where her margarita glistened in the sunlight.
Yamless piped up, “We’re going to bring fineliner markers back to the Fae,” she said.
The room fell silent as silent as a room could fall with Small Fry slurping her drink and chomping her cherry-filled doughnut. “What?” Small Fry said, wide-eyed. “We are…”
“Fine. Fine.” Pitan replied. “But on ONE condition, Yamless!” He stomped down the hallway, toward the kitchen. Yamless and Small Fry followed close behind. “YOU HAVE TO BE PREPARED!” he roared. “This means wet wipes, dust masks, extra socks, and enough cutlery to feed the royal family!”
“I know,” Yamless said, calmly. “Lots of socks. I promise. I already have it all packed!” she said, smiling ear-to-ear.
“I mean it, Snookums!” Pitan turned, grabbing Yamless by the arm. “Cutlerly is important. You have no idea how many uncivilized creatures lurk beyond our village. Dirty, flithy verman!” he shouted, pointing out the window above the kitchen sink. “If you hear anything cough, put your mask on… immediatley! I cannot have you harmed.” A tear formed in Pitan’s eye as he spoke.
Yamless stared at Pitan, pulling emotion from a part of her so deep she barely recognized herself. “I will, Pitan. I will. I’ll battle that sauce-splatter and tell it I mean business! I’ll beat the germs down before they even know what hit them. But I just know this is my calling! I need to get those markers.” She hung her head, showing how much it truly meant to her.
Pitan stroked his long beard, completating all the horrible scenarios Yamless was about to face, and finally nodded in approval. “Fine. Your wishes are my desire, sweet Yamless. You and… that,” he pointed at Small Fry, “Shall bring the color back to our people and restore the peace.”
Yamless clapped her hand together, smiling radiently. She leaned forward, giving Pitan a quick peck on the cheek. She knew anything more than that would make him blush and he wouldn’t want that in front of company because, as a gnome, his cheeks lit up like a glow-bug zipping around in a newly-grown garden.
“Puh-lease,” Small Fry cut in, “Cut the crap and let’s get this party started!”
© 2017, Anisa Claire. All rights reserved.
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