Why was he staring at me like that? I didn’t like it…
I shifted my seat on the deflated couch, trying to turn my gaze away. Frowning, I began typing once more. I didn’t get very far before I felt his gaze dig holes in the side of my head. I glanced once again in his direction, his stance solid, determined.
I grumbled. “What do you want?”
He said nothing, just stood there in his stupid green outfit that did him little justice. It was an outfit he’d gotten in the ninties, and it showed.
“I’m aware that you hate what you’re wearing! What do you want me to do about it?”
He sat silently, showing me what he wanted by the decor that surrounded him.
“You want to wear black? What, are you goth now?”
Another stoney stare.
I sighed long and hard, shutting the computer on my lap and placing it on the bookstand beside me. With him staring at me like this, I was never going to get any writing done. I stood and marched up to him, his four friends surrounding him with their stubburn, spindly legs. His friends came from all over – Pottery Barn, and of course garage sales. They glared at me the same way, all except the Pottery Barn group – they were confident in their clothes.
“And I suppose you want new clothes too, huh?” I addressed two of his friends that were wearing a horrid pumpin pattern.
They gave me the same lip, and it drove me to give in.
“Fine! I’ll do it, but beware that I cannot guarantee a good outcome, but I’ll try my best.”
I marched to the door where I grabbed my keys and purse. When I came back, I had new fabric, and of course a quart of black paint. He was still staring at me. With a clenched jaw, I removed all his jewelry – the vases, candles, bobbles he wore excessively in his attempt to look more modern. It looked trashy instead. I then flipped him over on his back…
…and I removed his friends pumpkin clothes.
He giggled with happiness and I brushed him with a new coat – first a layer to cover the green, then another to cover streaks, then a third to make his new clothes shine like a leather jacket.
His friends watched anxiously, the pumpkin duo patiently awaiting their turn. While he was drying, I took the pumpkins and rehabed their October look. I drove staples into their flesh, but they didn’t seem to mind – they were seasoned plastic surgery patients – I could see the two previous scars of old changes on their undersides.
when I was done I sighed, seeing it was almost time for dinner. My day was a waste as far as writing went, but I was glad to see that He and his friends were happy.
they all stood with pride and thanks.
it felt good to help out…