Disclaimer: I own -pulls out backpack- three folders, two sketch books, a tube of glitter, three socks, a cup with a smily face on it, and one little french girl. Nope, no goblin king. Darn.
Bump. Bump.
"Wha…" 'What is zhat? Is it a burglar? Wake up, wake up, grab the gun!' I awoke, silently swinging my feet off the side of the bed and onto the cold floor.
Bump.
'There! There it iz again! Grab the gun, you silly French girl! It is a burglar!' my inner voice screeched. I stole a glance at the clock; one thirty in the morning. Not a wise hour to wake me. I reached into the bag at the side of my bed and slowly, as to not make any noise, unzipped the pouch where my pistol was kept. Gun in hand, I crept out of my room and down the long hallway that connected the bedrooms to the living room in the apartment that my roommate and I share. I stepped over the threshold into the living room and squinted into the darkness for the thief.
'Ahah!' my inner voice crowed as I spotted the intruder. I raised the gun as I took in his appearance. He was a tall man sporting what looked like a leather vest in the dark, with a shock of white blond hair that stood out even in the darkness. He seemed to be poking through the things on our bookshelf, snickering at some of the titles. Slowly he moved from one shelf to the other, trying not to make noise, when he stepped on a plank of wood that is notorious for letting loose a viscous catlike moan when any weight is forced upon it. He winced.
I cocked the gun and flipped on the lights.
Startled, he whirled around and set his eyes upon me. "Why, hello," he drawled in a slightly British accent.
"Who are jou ant whot the hell are zou doing in my 'ouse?!" I screeched, aiming the gun at him. "Ow did jou get in here?!"
"I am merely a friend of your room mate," he stated, but I cut him off. "SARAH! ZERE IS A MAN! GET IN 'ERE NOW!" I yelled. From the grimace on his face, it was obvious that either a; he was lying, or b; he did not want to encounter Sarah at this time.
I heard a bump, then a crash, then the sound of footsteps making their way into the living room. Then, Sarah, in all her glory, stumbled her way into the living room, armed with a fake sword and no pants. When she saw the intruder she stopped cold.
"What… what are you doing here?"
"Jou know this man, Sarah?" I inquired.
"Yes."
"Should I still be pointing ze gun?"
"Matters what he's here for." She responded lightly, staring at the man with amusement. He was staring back at her with an expression mixed between the cat who ate the canary and the little kid who just got caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar.
I looked between the two, and trusted my better judgment.
"I am going back to bed. Don't do anything I would not du, children."
There now... Not realy that funny, but it got the idea out. Review!?