Please, don't kill me? I know I've been gone for a month and blah blah blah excuses... And this is really short... But I HAD to write something after the new Simon and Marcy episode... I'll try to start being more regular/frequent with these updates, but I can't promise anything. Don't worry, they'll be longer from now on. Anyway, enjoy this sucky piece of writing I did.
-Sam-
"I like your old hair better." Marceline declared, holding up a newspaper clipping of Simon when he was much younger.
"Really? I felt like the new do was really working for me." Simon joked. "And I wanna be just like you!" Simon poked her cheek and went back to cooking the canned corn over their bonfire. Marceline chuckled, running her fingers through her long, dark hair. She inched closer to Simon and tugged at his sleeve.
"Let's cut your hair!" Marceline suggested with excitement.
"No, no I don't think so…" Simon shrugged her off and continued staring deep into the flames of the bonfire before them. Marceline huffed and crossed her arms, furrowing her brow, hoping Simon would notice and give in to her bratty act.
She waited.
Simon watched the fire.
She gave up.
Simon watched the fire.
Marceline gave one more huff, and crawled away towards Simon's cluttered backpack, cast aside by the tired old man in his haste to get Marceline her dinner as soon as possible, all because he heard her stomach moan. Marceline considered the backpack for a moment, taking in the gains and tears fixed up with duct tape.
She had an idea that painted a mischievous grin on her 6-and-three-quarters-year-old face.
Marceline rugged through the backpack, sifting through all the useless junk that had been collected on their journey, until she pulled out exactly what she had been searching for.
A pair of rusty purple kindergarten scissors.
It was silent for a moment, no sound but the fire crackling and the 'mysterious beings' rustling through the night-time forest.
Then,
snip
snip
snipsnipsnip
snipsnip
Simon whipped his head around to check on Marceline, "Marceline, what are you doing?!"
Marceline stepped towards the fire, the glow illuminating her new hair cut. Her midnight black hair hung short, choppy and completely uneven just below her ears.
She held the scissors like a first prize trophy.
"Marceline, what have you-"
"You said you wanted to be like me, so cut your hair!" Marceline thrusted the scissors towards him insistently.
Simon laughed a little and accepted the scissors, taking them from Marceline's tiny fingers.
Simon watched Marceline sleep by the light of the fire, pen and paper in his hand, his new short haircut settling just above his ears. Simon sent Marceline off to bed after fixing her choppy hair-do, with a laugh in her lungs and canned corn in her stomach.
Marceline,
You're right, short hair does suit me better. I'll never forget the day you cut your hair just so I would cut mine. You're a clever little handful. I love you Marceline.
-Simon