Chapter 4: In which there are ... crafts?
***
"I can't believe we never thought to look through here!"
"Dom, we've been in this pod for all of three days. It's not like it's been
months, or anything."
"Shut up. Still, I can't believe how much stuff is in here! Ooo! Malkavian
blitschloger!"
"Isn't that the stuff that made Ch'od go blind for three days?"
"Yep!"
"Hrm. Hand it over."
"Here. I swear, this is Hepzibah's personal storage locker for stuff she
doesn't want anyone to find. There's the blitschloger, five wrapped presents,
two talking pikachu's - didn't Bobby give them those? - two boxes of of
gauze, three sets of water colors, a set of safety scissors, three boxes of
wooden popcicle sticks, and five carmel-macadamia nut meltaways."
"Oh?"
"I'm only sharing if you're extra good to me tonight."
"Wench."
"More like slut, but that works too. I wonder what else is back here..."
"Well, don't get lost."
"Hrmm. This is odd. There's a big flat envelope shoved up against the
wall..."
"Hey, can you look around and see if there are any more data chips? Five
hundred books might get a bit old after- Dom! What's wrong?"
"..."
"Dom? You okay?"
"..."
"Are you okay!?"
"I... I never want to see that again."
"What did you- oh. Um. Ew."
"That does not even cover it."
"Why does Hepzibah have nude photos of Professor Xavier in here?"
"Does it MATTER!?"
"Blackmail?"
"God, I hope so."
"Shove them in the back."
"Done. Hey, I wonder..."
"You're still going to look through there? What if you find something worse?"
"Tell me exactly what *could* be worse?"
"Seeing Sinister naked?"
"Shut up. No, I'm checking to see if there's anything..."
"Whatever. I'm going back to my data pad."
"..."
"..."
"Oh, my god!"
"Dom? You okay?"
"OH, MY GOD!"
"What? Find China?"
"Almost as good. Construction paper!"
"Eh?"
"Pulpy, colored paper with which to make chains."
"And this is good... how?"
"Because now I don't have to have fun with scissors and your hair."
"Um... yay?"
"Damn skippy. Now..." *digdigdig*
"What are you looking for now?"
"*muffle*There has to be... hmm.. no, glue stick, tape...*muffle*"
"Domino, you've managed to jam half of your body in that storage bin."
"And I'm sure you just hate the view..."
"You'd kill me if I snickered right now, right?"
"Yep... oh! YAY!"
"Hmm?"
"Jackpot! There's gold, and red, and blue, and silver! Damn, Hepzibah must
have been saving this for the kids birthdays or something."
"What in the name of all that's holy did you find?"
"Glitter!"
"Oh, flonq."
***
"How does this look?"
"Fine."
"You're lying."
"You don't know that."
"Your eye is twitching. It always twitches when you lie."
"It does not."
"No, but you sound like your father."
"...what?"
"You sound like you have a steel rod permanently implanted in your ass.
Hence, you're lying."
"That makes no sense at all."
"Just be honest. How does this look?"
"Like a four-year-old got locked in an escape pod with a stack of conception
paper and six industrial sized vials of glitter."
"Say that word again, and you're spending the rest of this trip in a
spacesuit magnatized to the hull. And thank you for the compliment."
"What word?"
"It's *construction* paper."
"Oh. Huh."
"Ass. What's yours look like?"
"Nothing. I'm reading the data pad."
"Hey! You said you'd make something!"
"And I sounded like Scott when I said that."
"..."
"What? I didn't want to."
"You're so sleeping on the floor."
"So? I slept on the floor *last* night. It reduces my chances of head
trauma."
"Yes, but this time, I'm not using you for a mattress."
"..." *EXTRASTRENGTH big-eye-trick*
"Aaah! Don't *do* that! You're eyes are gonna fall out or something!"
*Eyes get a little bigger*
"Fine! Fine! But you have to make a snow flake."
"...how's that possible? It's not cold enough in here."
"No, moron, with construction paper."
*confused look*
"This is a job for the safety scissors."
***
"This sucks."
"No, it doesn't. You're just opposed to doing anything you can picture your
father doing."
"No, this just sucks. And I can *not* imagine Scott being forced to cut paper
snowflakes to tape to windows."
"Then someone was obviously playing in the danger room most of last
Christmas. You remember the blizzard on the main picture window?"
"Scott did that?"
"From what I hear, Martha Stewart is his personal hero."
"..."
"Your family's fucked up. Accept."
"This sucks! My fingers don't even fit in the holes in these scissors!"
"You're a telekenetic. Try harder."
"You're being very pushy about this, you know."
*elbow in the ribs* "I need the mental picture of you doing crafts. It's just
a needed vital memory I've suddenly discovered."
"...That made no sense."
"Cut."
"Yes, Domino."
"You're doing that wrong."
"No shit. My fingers don't fit into the scissors and I have no idea what I'm
doing. That's a real formula for success."
"Geez, you're getting cranky."
"I don't want to do this."
"*sigh* Look, it's not that hard. *crawls in lap* Lemme show you."
"Well, this project just got a lot more interesting..."
"Lech. Now look. Pinky finger in here, the tip of your index finger here..."
"Ummhmm."
"Now, hold that like this. No, fold there. Yes. That's it."
"Like this?"
"Umhmm."
"And this goes here?"
"Yes. Exactly. Not so hard. You don't want to tear anything."
"Right. Now, what if I do... *this*."
"That has nothing to do with your snowflake."
"Nope."
"That better not be the glue stick."
***
"Aw, dammit. I have glitter in places I don't even want to think about."
"Hey, you're the one who started talking dirty over snowflakes. Plus, your
ass has always been shiny. Why are you complaining now?"
"Because that was melded to my cells! This is just melded to uncomfortable
places. Yuck, this is worse than sand."
"We are never having sex on a beach ever again."
"Amen to that."
"Then again, I don't think any authorities would ever let us do that again
either."
"Yeah. Those cops were pretty surprised."
"More jealous, I think."
"And the old ladies."
"Oh, lord. I forgot about them. How long were they standing there anyway?"
"Well, you were pretty distracting. I only noticed them after we'd gotten hit
with the water. And let me tell you, I never realized how dirty old women
could be."
"Hee! Well, you are a dirty old man. It only follows the natural balance of
things for there to be dirty old women."
"But they were thinking *tips*, Dom."
"Did you take any of their advice?"
"Ten minutes ago."
"Remind me to send them a thank you card. What were their names again?"
"Andrea. Smith and Wester. On holiday from the midwest. One was from
Wisconsin, and the other lived in Chicago."
"They were both named Andrea?"
"Why are we still talking about this?"
"I'm distracting you from the glitter up your a-"
"I remember. Can I get up now? My back's starting to cramp..."
"Wuss."
***
"I can't believe we never thought to look through here!"
"Dom, we've been in this pod for all of three days. It's not like it's been
months, or anything."
"Shut up. Still, I can't believe how much stuff is in here! Ooo! Malkavian
blitschloger!"
"Isn't that the stuff that made Ch'od go blind for three days?"
"Yep!"
"Hrm. Hand it over."
"Here. I swear, this is Hepzibah's personal storage locker for stuff she
doesn't want anyone to find. There's the blitschloger, five wrapped presents,
two talking pikachu's - didn't Bobby give them those? - two boxes of of
gauze, three sets of water colors, a set of safety scissors, three boxes of
wooden popcicle sticks, and five carmel-macadamia nut meltaways."
"Oh?"
"I'm only sharing if you're extra good to me tonight."
"Wench."
"More like slut, but that works too. I wonder what else is back here..."
"Well, don't get lost."
"Hrmm. This is odd. There's a big flat envelope shoved up against the
wall..."
"Hey, can you look around and see if there are any more data chips? Five
hundred books might get a bit old after- Dom! What's wrong?"
"..."
"Dom? You okay?"
"..."
"Are you okay!?"
"I... I never want to see that again."
"What did you- oh. Um. Ew."
"That does not even cover it."
"Why does Hepzibah have nude photos of Professor Xavier in here?"
"Does it MATTER!?"
"Blackmail?"
"God, I hope so."
"Shove them in the back."
"Done. Hey, I wonder..."
"You're still going to look through there? What if you find something worse?"
"Tell me exactly what *could* be worse?"
"Seeing Sinister naked?"
"Shut up. No, I'm checking to see if there's anything..."
"Whatever. I'm going back to my data pad."
"..."
"..."
"Oh, my god!"
"Dom? You okay?"
"OH, MY GOD!"
"What? Find China?"
"Almost as good. Construction paper!"
"Eh?"
"Pulpy, colored paper with which to make chains."
"And this is good... how?"
"Because now I don't have to have fun with scissors and your hair."
"Um... yay?"
"Damn skippy. Now..." *digdigdig*
"What are you looking for now?"
"*muffle*There has to be... hmm.. no, glue stick, tape...*muffle*"
"Domino, you've managed to jam half of your body in that storage bin."
"And I'm sure you just hate the view..."
"You'd kill me if I snickered right now, right?"
"Yep... oh! YAY!"
"Hmm?"
"Jackpot! There's gold, and red, and blue, and silver! Damn, Hepzibah must
have been saving this for the kids birthdays or something."
"What in the name of all that's holy did you find?"
"Glitter!"
"Oh, flonq."
***
"How does this look?"
"Fine."
"You're lying."
"You don't know that."
"Your eye is twitching. It always twitches when you lie."
"It does not."
"No, but you sound like your father."
"...what?"
"You sound like you have a steel rod permanently implanted in your ass.
Hence, you're lying."
"That makes no sense at all."
"Just be honest. How does this look?"
"Like a four-year-old got locked in an escape pod with a stack of conception
paper and six industrial sized vials of glitter."
"Say that word again, and you're spending the rest of this trip in a
spacesuit magnatized to the hull. And thank you for the compliment."
"What word?"
"It's *construction* paper."
"Oh. Huh."
"Ass. What's yours look like?"
"Nothing. I'm reading the data pad."
"Hey! You said you'd make something!"
"And I sounded like Scott when I said that."
"..."
"What? I didn't want to."
"You're so sleeping on the floor."
"So? I slept on the floor *last* night. It reduces my chances of head
trauma."
"Yes, but this time, I'm not using you for a mattress."
"..." *EXTRASTRENGTH big-eye-trick*
"Aaah! Don't *do* that! You're eyes are gonna fall out or something!"
*Eyes get a little bigger*
"Fine! Fine! But you have to make a snow flake."
"...how's that possible? It's not cold enough in here."
"No, moron, with construction paper."
*confused look*
"This is a job for the safety scissors."
***
"This sucks."
"No, it doesn't. You're just opposed to doing anything you can picture your
father doing."
"No, this just sucks. And I can *not* imagine Scott being forced to cut paper
snowflakes to tape to windows."
"Then someone was obviously playing in the danger room most of last
Christmas. You remember the blizzard on the main picture window?"
"Scott did that?"
"From what I hear, Martha Stewart is his personal hero."
"..."
"Your family's fucked up. Accept."
"This sucks! My fingers don't even fit in the holes in these scissors!"
"You're a telekenetic. Try harder."
"You're being very pushy about this, you know."
*elbow in the ribs* "I need the mental picture of you doing crafts. It's just
a needed vital memory I've suddenly discovered."
"...That made no sense."
"Cut."
"Yes, Domino."
"You're doing that wrong."
"No shit. My fingers don't fit into the scissors and I have no idea what I'm
doing. That's a real formula for success."
"Geez, you're getting cranky."
"I don't want to do this."
"*sigh* Look, it's not that hard. *crawls in lap* Lemme show you."
"Well, this project just got a lot more interesting..."
"Lech. Now look. Pinky finger in here, the tip of your index finger here..."
"Ummhmm."
"Now, hold that like this. No, fold there. Yes. That's it."
"Like this?"
"Umhmm."
"And this goes here?"
"Yes. Exactly. Not so hard. You don't want to tear anything."
"Right. Now, what if I do... *this*."
"That has nothing to do with your snowflake."
"Nope."
"That better not be the glue stick."
***
"Aw, dammit. I have glitter in places I don't even want to think about."
"Hey, you're the one who started talking dirty over snowflakes. Plus, your
ass has always been shiny. Why are you complaining now?"
"Because that was melded to my cells! This is just melded to uncomfortable
places. Yuck, this is worse than sand."
"We are never having sex on a beach ever again."
"Amen to that."
"Then again, I don't think any authorities would ever let us do that again
either."
"Yeah. Those cops were pretty surprised."
"More jealous, I think."
"And the old ladies."
"Oh, lord. I forgot about them. How long were they standing there anyway?"
"Well, you were pretty distracting. I only noticed them after we'd gotten hit
with the water. And let me tell you, I never realized how dirty old women
could be."
"Hee! Well, you are a dirty old man. It only follows the natural balance of
things for there to be dirty old women."
"But they were thinking *tips*, Dom."
"Did you take any of their advice?"
"Ten minutes ago."
"Remind me to send them a thank you card. What were their names again?"
"Andrea. Smith and Wester. On holiday from the midwest. One was from
Wisconsin, and the other lived in Chicago."
"They were both named Andrea?"
"Why are we still talking about this?"
"I'm distracting you from the glitter up your a-"
"I remember. Can I get up now? My back's starting to cramp..."
"Wuss."