The Tale of A Desk
Authors Note: Kim has a desk covered in wrapping paper (I really don't know where that came from), and I decided to find out why. This is the product.
Disclaimer: I own only Kim. I do not claim responsibility for the desk, and unfortunately, I don't own the guys either. Sad, really. I'd share, really I would, if only I could get my hands on them. Sadly for all of us, they run away whenever I approach. Wonder why.
"That abomination cannot be real."
"They're trying to kill us."
"Lord, whoever made it must have been colour blind."
Who the hell could make something that ugly?"
"Why , why me? What did I ever do to them? I've always been nice to them1 Why do they torture me?"
"What the hell is that thing?"
"I think it's supposed to be a desk."
"I reassert my former declaration- that is not a desk. That is the spawn of the devil."
Seven men and one woman stared, horror-stricken at the hideously ugly, roughly square piece of wood in the middle of the room. Buck covered JDs eyes. Ezra turned away in pain.
It has three levels of two drawers each, each level of drawers a different colour. The top drawers were fire engine red, the second canary yellow, and the third a fluorescent orange that was reminiscent of highlighters. The sides were a deep, depressing maroon, and the back and the little of the front that wasn't taken up by the drawers were an equally dark and depressing green. The top was navy blue that clashed horribly with the cream trim.
"They bug me for months to get a desk, the least they can do is give me one I can look at." Kim shaded her eyes and squinted at her... for lack of a better word, desk. It seemed be glowing with a rather unholy and painful smugness. Without saying another word, she stormed out of the office, and the others covered it up as best they could with paperwork and jackets. Even Ezra risked his suit jacket to cover what he called the 'unholy abomination'.
Kim returned several minutes later with two rolls of paper, one of wrapping paper proudly proclaiming 'Happy Birthday', and one of plain white paper. Where she had gotten the wrapping paper, they didn't ask. As quickly as she could, she wrapped her desk in paper, and sighed in relief when it was done. The top was now covered with white paper, and the sides with wrapping paper.
Now if only their eyes would stop screaming.
Warm me with reviews, please- I'm a review junkie, and I can't feel my fingers anymore. Basement. In Alberta, in winter, in the middle of a cold snap. It's 40 below outside, and I have to go to school tomorrow. WARM ME!!! Or you'll be receiving stories from a roughly human-shaped icicle.