Yay! Another drabble! This one has absolutely nothing to do with anything! Yayy!Read it now, and REVIEW! Thankee.
Of Centaurs and Chicken-scratch
"How do centaurs graze?"
Jack's gaze shot up to the girl's face. "The who did the what now?"
She looked up from her journal. "Centaurs. You know, the Greek mythical creature that was half horse, half man?" Jack made no gesture of acknowledgment, but she continued nonetheless. "How do they graze, do ya know?"
Jack blinked bewilderedly. "I'm hardly the man to ask about the habits of fairies and fauns and whatnot."
"Do you think they graze like horses, or would they use utensils and tools like humans?"
Jack shrugged. "What has this got to do with anything, anyway?"
"I dunno, I'm just writing a story with centaurs in it."
"Why?"
"Same reason anyone writes a story, genius! Because I found an inspiration, and have decided to put it down on paper. Jeez."
Jack could only stare. If this was what young women were like in the future, then he was glad he lived in the 'past'. How annoying. "So how do they graze?"
"They use tools like people, all right!"
"Are you sure?"
"Not in the least. I gave you an answer. That's what you wanted. End of conversation."
The teenager blinked, and quickly scrawled a long, very long paragraph in her journal. Jack peered over her shoulder. "How can you read that?"
She shrugged. "Dunno. It's chicken-scratch. 'S a wonder I can read it at all." She grinned, and set back to writing.
SsAaSsSsAaFfRrAaSsSs(fin)