It was early December. Manuke shivered as she stepped outside; partly because it was cold, but partly because she didn't realize that she was wearing a sleeveless tank top. (You'd think such a thing would be pretty darn obvious, really, but who am I to judge? I'm just the narrator. Oh, right. I'm telling some semblance of a story. Well, let's continue, shall we?)

Manuke considered herself to be an ordinary resident of her town. If, by definition, ordinary means a strange, pinkish creature with no tail or fur in a world of such beings, and she was pretty sure that was an accurate meaning. Needless to say, Manuke didn't own a dictionary. She didn't own much at all, actually, which was why she tended to spend her time outside, letting nature entertain her in place of the neat video-game machines and sushi conveyor belts that her friends owned. That, and it was an excuse to find her crush- an orange frog by the name of Croque. She wasn't ashamed to admit it- she was a human girl in love with a frog. Because that's normal, right? That has no trace of creepiness, right? She didn't think so. (She didn't think much to begin with, for that matter, but I digress.)

She yelled his name into a megaphone, then ran to the sound of his voice (once again, totally normal). Once she reached him, she hid behind a tree (getting slightly creepy, actually) and watched him fish. once he moved on, she followed at a distance, making sure she was completely hidden by the foliage (should I call the cops? This is straying a bit into the creepy side of things). She sighed a love-struck sigh, which carried farther than anticipated. He turned around to the tree she was behind.

"Who's there?"

Oh, no! She thought to herself as she crouched down, hoping to make herself less conspicuous, if he sees me, he might suspect something! (or report you for stalking. That's a perfectly logical course of action.)

At that moment, her brilliant mind began to churn out an idea. A cunning plan of escape. A plan so good, so foolproof, that only the most intuitive of minds could possibly mess it up.

"No one!"

I'm a a genius.

"Oh. Uh, hey there. Playing hide-n-seek or something?" His tone was bored. (Perhaps some take to being stalked by strange girls better than others. Then again, some are more likely to fall prey to this.)

"S-so. . .um. . .how ya doin'?" Her hands shook, her face turned red with embarrassment, and she began to sweat. To say that she was the type who could hold a conversation with her crush would be to say that a sloth could win a marathon.

"Fine." (Is he more stupid than I thought, or just ignoring the obvious? Wait, I'm in charge of that, so why on Earth am I asking?)

"Heh. Great. Me, too."

"Well, maybe not so fine. The water to my house got shut off awhile back. I haven't showered in about a week."

"Heh. Great. Me, too."

He raised an eyebrow at her, but she didn't notice. Her mind was elsewhere, mainly focusing on how great his mustache looked today, even though there was no visible change from the day before, or the day before that, or ever. Her mind was so busy that it didn't register to her ears that he was still talking, rambling on about something along the lines of how he felt like the city was treating the whole situation like some big game, how both the electric company and the water works had just been bought out, and how the utilities were being used to bargain for the railroads. He might have been saying something about a shoe being ahead of a dog as well and how he considered this a metaphor for how skunks seemed to get farther ahead in life than canines, but, as mentioned, she didn't even notice that he was talking.

"And that's why I want a bagworm."

She snapped out of her trance.

"What?"

"Yeah. And it would be really nice of you to go get one for me."

"Um, but. . .can't you just get it yourself?"

"Yes."

"So, aren't you kind of just being lazy by making me go get it for you?"

"Yes."

There was a long pause in which neither said anything and just sort of stared at each other.

"Well. . .okay. S-sure! Anything for you, buddy!"

"Great! I knew I could count on you!"

If he had known that those words had been the equivalent of throwing gasoline onto a fire -(that fire being motivation and that gasoline being. . .well, gasoline)- he would have most likely said them sooner. He's counting on me! He practically admitted his love to me! I won't let him down. I'll find a bagworm even if it takes all day!

It did take all day. It wasn't until 5:00 PM that she even realized the time, and even then only because she bumped into Pete on her way to shake down yet another tree.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, would you? You made me drop my letters."

"Huh? Oh, sorry. Here. Lemmi help you."

She scrambled to pick up the letters and thrust them into his bag with all the organization and care of a squirrel that had accidentally gotten into a can of Monster (and she knew what that looked like. Poor Sally.)

"What's this?" She picked up a fragrant envelope that looked as though it had been kissed with Chapstick (by someone with no kissing experience at that).

"N-nothing! it's. . .that's personal!"

"Why is it addressed to Phyllis?"

"That's none of your business! Now. . .I have to go." He grabbed the letter, shoved it into the mailbag, and ran off without another word. Manuke shook her head and laughed to herself. Idiots in love will do anything. What a hopeless fool. And with that, she continued shaking trees.

Another hour later and she was down to the last three trees in the entire town. She shook one of them and something fell out.

"Ooh! A leaf!" She picked it up eagerly, but upon further inspection, she realized that it was merely a golden couch (in her defense, they do look incredibly similar. Uncanny, really. Anyone could've made the same mistake). She tossed it back onto the ground. "Why can't these trees ever drop anything valuable?!" So far, she had only managed to find five pieces of furniture- one of them being the golden couch at her feet- , two spiders, and ten-thousand bells. Truly today was not her day.

"Alright, tree. Don't disappoint me. I haven't gotten what I've been searching for all day, so I could use your cooperation." She placed her hands on the trunk and prepared to shake the tree with all her might. "Surprise me!"

And surprise her it did. Her feet moved quicker than her brain as the sound of buzzing filled the air. Aaaaaah! I gotta get inside! No houses nearby. Maybe I can escape into the ocean! No ocean for miles. I know! I'll try to catch them! She reached into her pocket and pulled out a slingshot. Then a fishing rod. Then a glow wand. Then a megaphone. The bees, for whatever reason, just sort of flew around her in a circle, as if being polite and saying "Oh, take your time. We can wait. This is going to end the same either way."

"Net!" At last, she produced the correct tool and, filled with confidence in her bee-catching skills, shouted at the menacing insects "Make my day! Come at me b- aaaaah!" her taunting was cut short by the angry swarm. She knew bees couldn't really think as high as other species, but she could have sworn she heard laughing from at least one of them. Maybe it was just the pain making her delusional (spoiler alert- it wasn't. It isn't wise to taunt a creature with a built-in shank-knife). The bees dematerialized into thin air for no apparent reason, and her ego swiftly followed.

The sun was going down as she made her way back to Croque. He was sitting on a stump looking at the stars. He was either lost in deep, philosophical thought, or daydreaming about a monster-truck rally. It was hard to tell. This is such a romantic setting! Oh, this will be wonderful. All of my daydreams shall come true! She cleared her throat and her voice shook as she spoke.

"C-Croque, I-"

"Woah! What happened to your face?!"

"Well, you see-"

"Gahaha! It looks like a piece of lumpy dough!"

"Well, that was kind of mea-"

"Did you get stung by bees or something? Pffft, rookie."

"Is that really necess-"

"Man, I confused you for some hideous beast. Sca-ry! I mean, I've seen some messed up crud in my life, but that is just-"

His sentence was abruptly cut short. It was then that Manuke was grateful that she had kept the beehive, and as it made contact with his face, she could hear the faint sound of buzzing from inside. She smirked as he ran off in terror from the few bees that hadn't come out of the hive the first time. She heard yelling in the distance, adding to the satisfaction. Moron. She walked victoriously with her head held high to her home. That is, until she fell into a pitfall. (Spending all day shaking trees instead of digging has its disadvantages.)

She opened the door to her home and prepared for bed. She was thoroughly exhausted. She turned off all her lights. She didn't bother to watch the news. It was just some story about Lief winning a triathlon. Nothing important. She climbed into bed, knowing that her face would be back to normal in the morning. What a jerk. She was upset that it had taken getting stung by bees and insulted for her to realize it. Never again. There were others besides him. there was the nice boy who would come to her town every so often. There was the new guy that had just moved in. There was that lonely postman who couldn't take a hint. . .okay, maybe not him. One thing she knew for sure- she wouldn't waste her time like that again, and she wouldn't be shaking any trees for awhile.

"Oh! That reminds me!" She said to herself as she reached into her pocket and pulled out her newest pet. She placed in next to her bed and watched it sleep in its little container. A very lovely bagworm indeed. With that, she turned off the last light and went to sleep herself.

Man. That was dumb. As you can see, I'm not used to writing comedy stories. I mean, I write comics now and then, but full-on stories? Tragedy is easy. Comedy is. . .well, a bit more of a tricky genre, at least for me. Maybe I can change that in the future. Maybe not. Well, regardless of the quality (or lack thereof) of this particular one-shot, I hope you enjoyed it.