Pessimistic
"This is... depressing, disheartening, and disgusting. How in the Underground could you let it get this bad, Jareth?" Sarah stared in shock at the chaos before her, unable to tear her eyes away from the Goblins wading their way through the madness.
"It's not my fault, you know," Jareth snapped irritably, pacing on the other end of the mirror. "It's at that really awkward time of the year, half-way between the two National Sweeps, and we had an unusually high chicken harvest this year, and the goats had some serious winter coats to lose, not to mention the cats that keep wandering through..."
"You lost Ludo in that... that... fiasco of shed feathers and fur. You lost Ludo! He was supposed to come over today so I could give him his summer shave!"
"Look, I'm fairly sure that he's somewhere in the Cacophonic Canyons, and--oh, damn, I told them to come in another two hours--" The Goblin King started to rush off, but stopped just as suddenly; looking incredibly hassled, he started yelling out orders in the local Corrigan dialect. After letting lose the stream of words, he turned and leaped through the mirror. Sarah had just enough time to watch the mirror ripple as it reformed itself before Jareth, now on her side of the looking glass, pulled her under the vanity on which the glass was perched.
Blinking in confusion, Sarah made a vaguely querying noise and raised an eyebrow; before Jareth could explain his actions, a Sound (somewhat akin to a teenager being dropped into the midst of teachers over summer vacation) roared through the mirror, and Jareth cursed. Not too long after the Sound, the Sight flashed through, and Sarah watched the play of colors spark across her room even as Merlin started to take on a turquoise hue, a by-product of a certain King's oaths.
"Speaking of colorful language," she quipped brightly, but Jareth only glared balefully at her.
"It's shedding season," he growled, "and damn their hides, the Fieries are allergic to fur. They start sneezing--" Sarah wondered absently if that had been the Sound she'd heard-- "and set fire to everything... almost everything, anyway. A few of the Goblins are fire-proof, but otherwise..." he sighed.
"Well, it could be worse," Sarah told him. When Jareth looked dubious, she said defensively, "It could! You could be bald, or plagued by locusts, or... or... trampled by a herd of PMSing unicorns!"
"Unicorns," Jareth said flatly.
"Pink ones," Sarah nodded. "Glittery pink unicorns. PMSing, glittery, pink unicorns."
"Or," he replied, "I could be dealing with molting, moronic birds, shedding, simplistic mammals, and explosively allergic elementals!"
Rolling her eyes, Sarah muttered, "Fine, be that way, Mr. Pessimistic-Fairy-Dude."
Oro: Written for the sole purpose of keeping the author sane while "studying" for finals. You lot have really drpped the ball on humor while I've been offline, haven't you? But OceanFae's new story is really good, even if it isn't humor...
Quill: Go work on TBO!
Oro: I can't! Mom's hovering and I must study the chronology of WWII! Aaaaaaaaaaagh!
Jareth: Pardon the insanity, we meant to keep it caged...