Sometimes I have ideas for a story that don't pan out the way I expected. They usually end up really short, between 400-800 words on most occasions. Since they're not really worth any extra effort, I just leave them. But, since they exist, I thought I'd share. Often they're based on a totally random idea or fragment of conversation and nothing else. Some will have been written with the sole purpose of throwing in a reference to something. Some will just be word vomit. c:

Digital cookies and/or virtual livestock will be awarded to anyone who can guess (or recognises) the references I make in any given chapter. Some will be easier than most. If you guess this particular reference, I'll give you an internet high-five for being awesome as well.

With The Pencil Case, In The...?

The door opened slowly and Marceline's eyes fell until she found the face of the little man who had just opened it. She blinked at him lazily, a smirk trying to creep across her face. She slapped it away.

"And you are?" he asked in an annoyingly nasal tone.

"Marceline. Who are you?" she fired back.

"The butler."

She flashed him a smile. "Great. So what do you do?"

His little black eyes were completely without emotion when he said, "I buttle."

Marceline couldn't choke back the laughter that threatened to escape then. "Awesome. Where's Bonnie?"

He regarded her blankly some more, then arched a slender eyebrow as if questioning her right to breathe the same air as him. "I don't see how that's any concern of yours."

"Peter!" Bonnie called from within the dark of the house. "Who's at the door?"

"Some low life full of metal who calls herself 'Marceline'," he hollered back.

The silence that drifted through the building then was pretty much palpable. Marceline shuffled her feet on the stoop and peered down at the self-proclaimed 'butler'.

"Can I come in?" she muttered at him.

He ignored her.

That's when Bonnie came hurtling down the stairs. Her hair was a mess, her glasses sat crookedly on her nose and she was wearing nothing but a nightgown. Marceline went red.

"Marceline!" she cried as if actually surprised that it was true. "What are you doing here? Let her in, Peter."

With muffled grumbles, her butler did just that. Marceline had to resist the urge to pat him on the head. "Oh…" Marceline sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "Just stopped by. Also you left your pencil case in my car." She waved the offending item in the space between them.

"God, I've been looking everywhere for that," she declared, flouncing down the last few steps to snatch it away. "Thanks. Would you like to come up?"

"Sure," Marceline replied absently, still staring at the décor and sheer size of the house. "I think somewhere in the six months we've been together you might've failed to mention your family is rich."

"Who says we're rich?"

Marceline gave her a flat look before pointedly eyeing a tapestry – tapestry – on one wall. "Seriously? You have a butler and…" she motioned ahead of herself at the stairs. "What is that? It's like the Hogwarts grand entrance or something. You live in a palace, B."

Bonnie just smiled. "Yeah. And everything here is oversized." She lifted an eyebrow and her smile suddenly didn't look as innocent as Marceline was used to.

"This is your parents' house," she hissed as the blonde bounced back up the stairs.

"They're not home."

"Your butler is."

"Are you coming or not?"

Marceline rolled her eyes. "I'm not yet, but I have a feeling you want to fix that."

Bonnie just laughed. The sound was musical.