Hey, guys and gals! It's been a while, but I'm back. It's been a pretty crazy couple of weeks, to be honest. My marching bad got invited to play in the London New Year's Day Parade! It was an amazig experiece, and I would love to go back someday. Anywho, on with the story!
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Marceline was laying on her bed, in her uderwear, currently buried under the mountain of clothes Fiona was emptying from her closet.
"How is it that you have all of these clothes, but you only wear flannels and skinny jeans to school?" Fiona asked incredulously, pulling what looked to be a bright yellow ballgown at least three sizes too small.
She held it up to Marceline questioningly.
Marceline shrugged. "I went through a phase."
Confused, Fiona tossed it in the growing pile.
After about twenty minutes, the closet was empty. Fiona surveyed the mess, much like one would a car accident.
"You're fashion sense is awful." She said, tossing a shirt over Marceline's face.
She groaned in response.
"I know! Bubblegum's gonna hate me. She'll never wana be seen in public with me, and we'll never go out, and she'll never wanna get married and have tons of kids and a little dog and-"
"MARCELINE."
"Sorry."
"You're acting very un-Marcy today. What's gotten into you?"
"I...I really like her, Fi. I just want this to be perfect. I want her to like me." Marceline sighed in defeat.
"Hmm. Okay. I think I can help you, then. But I need to call in a friend."
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"Oh. Dear. Lord. You should've called sooner." A short, dark skinned girl with an afro surveyed the scene.
"Excuse me?"
"Sit down, baby. Lemme get a better look at this." While said girl was picking through the pile, Fiona explained.
"Marcy, this is my friend Cake. She's the best at this. If she can't do it, nobody can."
"Aha!"
Cake pulled some clothes out of the pile, and looked at them.
"I'm gonna need to throw these in the dryer to get the wrinkles out. but this'll work."
Soon, she was back, and the outfit was neatly folded and on a hanger, ready to be put on. Cake laid the outit down gently on a nearyby chair, and placed the accessories on top. She produced a comb out of her pocket and wielded it menacingly.
"Now then. Let's tame that mane."
Marceline's eyes widened in fear.
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At 5:45, Marceline was at Bubblegum's door, nervously fidgeting with her jacket.
She wore a grey jacket, the arms of which stopped a little below the elbow, and a black band tee under it. Her signature black skinny jeans and converse completed the look. Her hair was well combed, and shined in the light of the large house's porchlight.
She took a deep breath, and raised her had to knock on the door.
It swung open before she had a chance to knock, and a short man in a suit answered the door.
"Ah. You must be Marceline. Bonnibel said to expect you. She's in her room getting ready for your outing. Would you like to come in and wait for her?" The man asked, his accent distinctly british.
"Uuuh. Sure." Marceline asked, her hand still poised to knock. She tried to play it off by rubbing the back of her neck, and walked inside.
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Sorry guys. Gonna have to end it there. I know it's a bit of a filler chapter, but I'll make up for it, I promise!
So, for the FFT question. What is your idea of happiness?
I'll see you guys and gals next chapter!
-Z