Mmkay, so, me being me, I've decided to procrastinate on writing stories by writing a story. I know, it's insane.
Anyway, this one is based on what the director for Lord of the Flies at ma schoo' said to the girl who was playing Percival: You need to remember that Percival is just a kid. He's being sent away, and his parents don't want any mishaps. He's probably practiced his name and address a thousand times before going. This is the one thing he's got to hold on to.
Well, says I, what if the one thing he's got to hold on to is what he wants to let go of? (I know, it's deep.) Enjoy!
"Hey Percy! What's your name?"
The playground swam in front of his eyes. He turned around and saw not Brian and James, but his father, tall and stately, bent at the waist, admonishing him.
"Now son, we've gone over this already. When someone asks what your name is, what do you say?"
"My name is Percival Wemys Madison. The Vicarage, Harcourt St. Anthony, telephone Harcourt 241"
"Alright then, what's your name?"
He froze, watching Brian and James watch him, callous smirks tugging at their lips, cold mirth dancing in their eyes.
The words were torn from his throat as unwillingly as a cat to water.
"My name is Percival Wemys Madison. The Vicarage, Harcourt St. Anthony, telephone Harcourt 241," it came out in a babbling rush, only half comprehensible.
Shrieking laughter tore the air, and Percival fled.
So, whaddaya think? Review, s'il vous plait! =D