[Quick Note: It's easier to understand the French accent if you read it aloud with one.]


= Bloody Hell =

Chapter 2 – My First Clue


The morning sun crept through the blinds and lit up the small bedroom. I stirred gently, not realizing where I was. At the time, I didn't care. The sheets, soft and warm around my body, enveloped me like some sort of fabric cocoon. My eyes tiredly fluttered open. That clock was sitting on the nightstand by the bed, staring at me with an large grin.

"Are you up? Are you up?"

"Yes," I said.

"Oh good!" it cried. What was its name again? Tick-Tock? Tickety-Tock. It continued to speak. "You should go to the kitchen! I'm sure Steve will get you some breakfast!"

I had momentarily forgotten about Steve. There was something very…very strange about him. And about this place. I left the bedroom and walked through the living room into the kitchen. Steve stood at the stove, his back facing me. Some salt and pepper shakers were on the table. Childish drawings were posted up on the fridge. The linoleum floor was checkered white and black, and the walls were still yellow. I took a quick seat at the table.

Steve noticed me as I sat down. "Good morning, Janet! I trust you slept well."

"Unusually well."

He laughed. "I'm making scrambled eggs," he said. "Would you like some?"

"Sure," I replied. To my surprise, Steve wasn't a half-bad cook. The eggs on my plate looked deliciously fluffy. "Thank you."

"You're welcome!"

I noticed my eggs had no seasoning, so I reached over to pick up the salt and pepper shakers. They didn't like that. I guess I woke them up or something, because they started to squirm in my hands. I put them down.

"Now, now!" said the salt. "What iz thees? Who are yoo?"

"Janet Hapsfield."

"It waaz not nize of yoo to juss pick us up wissout asking us fairst."

"I'm terribly sorry," I said to the salt. "I'm new here. Shakers don't talk where I come from." Especially with terrible French accents.

"It iz no problem, Miz Hapsfeeld. I am Mr. Salt, and thees iz mai waife, Mrs. Peppair." Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper. How disgustingly cute. After a short talk, they were kind enough to season up my scrambled eggs, which I ate hastily. The faster I got out of there, the faster I could get someone to tow my car and get me back home.

Fate, on the other hand, had other plans.

I was barely finished with my breakfast when Steve suddenly shouted, "Blue! Where are you?" A small, floppy blue dog came bounding into the kitchen. It leapt up on a chair. "There you are, girl," said Steve. "Blue, do you want me to make you some eggs?"

Blue shook her head.

"Some waffles?"

Again, she declined. Steve folded his arms across his chest. "Well then, what DO you want?"

The dog danced in a circle and barked out a little song, "Bow-bow-bow, bow-bow BOW!" She slammed her massive puppy paw onto the table, leaving a bright blue pawprint. I sat there, completely confused as to what was going on. Steve, however, jumped into action.

"I get it!" he said, looking me right in the face. "We'll play Blue's Clues to find out what Blue wants to have for breakfast!" And then he proceeded to sing a song so demented that I refuse to dedicate another sentence to it. He grabbed me playfully by the arm and dragged me into the living room.

"Hey!" I yelped. "What in the bloody hell is going on here?"

Steve let go, looking hurt. "You said a naughty word."

"I what?" "You said a naughty word," he repeated. His eyeballs glistened over with salt water. Was he about to cry?!

"I take it back!" I said. "I take it back, just please don't start crying."

Steve grinned and all was forgiven. He opened up a drawer by the giant armchair and pulled out a chunky little notebook with green paper and a picture of the armchair on the front. Inside of the spiral on top was a thick green crayon.

"So… what's this for?" I asked.

"It's our notebook," he said. "We'll need to keep track of all the clues we find in order to figure out what Blue wants for breakfast. Will you help me?"

I let my breath go with a sharp exhale. Well, it wasn't as if I had anything better to do…

"All right."

"You will?" he said. "Okay! Now remember, we need to keep a lookout for the blue pawprints. Those are clues – Blue's Clues. C'mon, let's go!"

I followed him back into the kitchen. Steve slowed to a halt and surveyed the room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. What was he looking for? Then I saw it – a blue pawprint on a loaf of bread. Did Steve see it? It was, like… right in front of him on the counter.

"There's a clue," I said.

"My shoe?" Steve asked, glancing down at his sneakers. "No, they're tied. Thanks for your concern, though."

Did I stutter? I was pretty sure I properly pronounced the world 'clue'. How could anyone mistake 'clue' for 'shoe', especially when we were looking for clues? Shoes had nothing to do with this!

"A clue," I said slower.

"A clue? Where?"

I pointed to the bread. "Right there." Steve approached the counter.

"Where?"

"On the bread," I told him.

"Oh my head?" he asked, patting his unruly brown hair. "There's no clue up there."

"The clue is on the bread, Steve!" I shouted between clenched teeth. He suddenly gasped as he saw the loaf of bread with the pawprint sitting right there in the middle of the stupid kitchen. Maybe he was born with some sort of metal deficiency…?

Steve picked up the bread and examined it. "It's a clue all right. Do you know what we need?"

"Um… that notebook?"

"Our notebook! Right!"

Steve sat down at the table and pulled out the crayon. He flipped to a blank green sheet of paper and started to draw the bread. "Let's see… There's a straight line, and some little curves, and a couple more lines… And there's our bread!" He appeared rather fond of his drawing. "So, what could Blue want for breakfast that has bread in it?"

"French Toast?" I offered. Steve pocketed the notebook.

"I think we need to find some more clues."

From outside the open back door, there came two high-pitched voices.

"Steve!"

"Steve!"

"We need your help with something!"

"Yeah, we need your help!"

Steve turned to me. "That sounds like Shovel and Pail," he said. "Should we go and see what they want?"

There was no use trying to get out of this now. "Okay."


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A/N: Woah, it's been a while since I did anything with this. A big 'thanks' goes out to everyone who has reviewed and bugged me for another chapter!