02-09-2016, 11:10 PM
“I can’t make heads or tails of this map, Belle.”
“Number one: please don’t say the words ‘head’ or ‘tail’ when you’re holding a porno,” Belle shuddered, holding out a hand, “and secondly, that isn’t a map, it’s just an ad for a minivan.”
Mickey peered closer. “What? A… minivan?” The word didn’t make any sense to him.
“Yeah, I don’t really know what type of porn-reader would by a minivan either,” she responded, still not catching on to the mouse’s ignorance.
But… it had a map on it. Mickey supposed the words didn’t really seem to fit; he somehow doubted that there were locations on this island called Oklahoma City or Little Rock. Couple that with the fact that the largest, most prominent word on the page was ‘HONDA’ instead of ‘TEUCER’ and Belle seemed to be correct for all intents and purposes. The mouse sighed. Play, Boy was remarkably hit or miss with its advice.
And to think, this had all seemed so simple just hours ago. Go out onto the island; find the guardians; defeat them; return the relics, safe and sound, to Teucer.
Why the heckskies did everyone have to make that so dang complicated?
Take that girl, for instance. She’d just been wandering through the forest, searching for her friend—Ruby, was it?—and then they had run into each other. But she didn’t seem like an inherently bad girl. In fact, quite the contrary; Mickey admired the stress she put on her friendship with whoever Ruby was. The mouse remembered when he got separated from Samus, Erza, Harry, and Pepsiman in Dante’s Abyss, and how frantic he had gotten trying to find them. So frantic that he had accepted help from a psychopath like Deadpool.
The white-haired girl hadn’t deserved any violence from them. So Mickey had convinced Belle to let her go. Maybe one day their paths would cross again and she’d have found her friend. Maybe then she’d be more open to the idea of making new ones.
The King tried to always make that his philosophy. Unless someone just struck him as a total terrible person off the bat, he was always up for giving them a shot. Perhaps, he thought often, he trusted people too easily. He glanced over at Belle, leaning against a boulder and nursing her wounded arm, and spared a thought—just for a moment—that he’d befriended her too quickly. What if she turned on him?
What would you do then, Mickey?
He flipped open Play, Boy once again and returned to the article he’d been trying to read before stumbling upon Belle in the first place. As he skimmed it, he smiled, and then his big, black eyes looked up at his new companion.
“…uh, hey Belle,” he stammered, “can I read ya something?”
Her eyes flickered nervously over to him. “…sure,” she said quite tentatively. Mickey still couldn’t figure out what she had against the guide, but whatever.
“Okay, um,” he grinned, and then cleared his throat. “The title is ‘Why You Should Always Have A Thing For Redheads!’ Funny, huh?” He could see Belle’s brow furrowing but he stampeded over any protestation and continued reading. “’Number one: redheads are hot like fire. There’s always passion burning within them that will make any escapade worthwhile.’ I don’t really know what escapade means, but I think it means adventure! Anyway: ‘Number two: redheads got that booty.’ I assume that he’s trying to say that you’ve got a heart of gold. Y’know, gold like treasure?”
Belle scowled. “That’s kind of a stretch, Mick.”
Mickey ignored her. “‘Number three: redheads are a rarity. They are few and far between, so when you find a good one, hold on tight. Real tight, if you know what I mean.’ I don’t know what that means, but…”
He trailed off, and then tossed the magazine to the ground and pounced forward, wrapping his little mouse arms around her skinny waist and hugging her.
“I know we’ve only known each other a little while,” he said, his voice muffled a little bit by her clothes, “but I think we’re a good team, even when you yell at me.” He glanced up and met eyes with the girl. She patted his head gingerly. “We’re friends, right?”
Belle paused for a second. Despite her best efforts to hide it, a smile started to crack on her face. “Of course, Mickey.”
Mickey’s face glowed.
Belle sighed. “So what the hell does Play, Boy say we should do next, then?”
“Number one: please don’t say the words ‘head’ or ‘tail’ when you’re holding a porno,” Belle shuddered, holding out a hand, “and secondly, that isn’t a map, it’s just an ad for a minivan.”
Mickey peered closer. “What? A… minivan?” The word didn’t make any sense to him.
“Yeah, I don’t really know what type of porn-reader would by a minivan either,” she responded, still not catching on to the mouse’s ignorance.
But… it had a map on it. Mickey supposed the words didn’t really seem to fit; he somehow doubted that there were locations on this island called Oklahoma City or Little Rock. Couple that with the fact that the largest, most prominent word on the page was ‘HONDA’ instead of ‘TEUCER’ and Belle seemed to be correct for all intents and purposes. The mouse sighed. Play, Boy was remarkably hit or miss with its advice.
And to think, this had all seemed so simple just hours ago. Go out onto the island; find the guardians; defeat them; return the relics, safe and sound, to Teucer.
Why the heckskies did everyone have to make that so dang complicated?
Take that girl, for instance. She’d just been wandering through the forest, searching for her friend—Ruby, was it?—and then they had run into each other. But she didn’t seem like an inherently bad girl. In fact, quite the contrary; Mickey admired the stress she put on her friendship with whoever Ruby was. The mouse remembered when he got separated from Samus, Erza, Harry, and Pepsiman in Dante’s Abyss, and how frantic he had gotten trying to find them. So frantic that he had accepted help from a psychopath like Deadpool.
The white-haired girl hadn’t deserved any violence from them. So Mickey had convinced Belle to let her go. Maybe one day their paths would cross again and she’d have found her friend. Maybe then she’d be more open to the idea of making new ones.
The King tried to always make that his philosophy. Unless someone just struck him as a total terrible person off the bat, he was always up for giving them a shot. Perhaps, he thought often, he trusted people too easily. He glanced over at Belle, leaning against a boulder and nursing her wounded arm, and spared a thought—just for a moment—that he’d befriended her too quickly. What if she turned on him?
What would you do then, Mickey?
He flipped open Play, Boy once again and returned to the article he’d been trying to read before stumbling upon Belle in the first place. As he skimmed it, he smiled, and then his big, black eyes looked up at his new companion.
“…uh, hey Belle,” he stammered, “can I read ya something?”
Her eyes flickered nervously over to him. “…sure,” she said quite tentatively. Mickey still couldn’t figure out what she had against the guide, but whatever.
“Okay, um,” he grinned, and then cleared his throat. “The title is ‘Why You Should Always Have A Thing For Redheads!’ Funny, huh?” He could see Belle’s brow furrowing but he stampeded over any protestation and continued reading. “’Number one: redheads are hot like fire. There’s always passion burning within them that will make any escapade worthwhile.’ I don’t really know what escapade means, but I think it means adventure! Anyway: ‘Number two: redheads got that booty.’ I assume that he’s trying to say that you’ve got a heart of gold. Y’know, gold like treasure?”
Belle scowled. “That’s kind of a stretch, Mick.”
Mickey ignored her. “‘Number three: redheads are a rarity. They are few and far between, so when you find a good one, hold on tight. Real tight, if you know what I mean.’ I don’t know what that means, but…”
He trailed off, and then tossed the magazine to the ground and pounced forward, wrapping his little mouse arms around her skinny waist and hugging her.
“I know we’ve only known each other a little while,” he said, his voice muffled a little bit by her clothes, “but I think we’re a good team, even when you yell at me.” He glanced up and met eyes with the girl. She patted his head gingerly. “We’re friends, right?”
Belle paused for a second. Despite her best efforts to hide it, a smile started to crack on her face. “Of course, Mickey.”
Mickey’s face glowed.
Belle sighed. “So what the hell does Play, Boy say we should do next, then?”
![[Image: 2agonyw.png]](http://i68.tinypic.com/2agonyw.png)