15 November 2015

Two weeks ago: "ok i'm going to update this daily"

Someone just stick a post-it on one of my chargers. "go write something you lazy shit"

31. Collection

of children books that mostly revolve around plants.

"I have two consecutive days off," was the first thing out of Bandana Dee's mouth upon arrival at Kirby's house. (Which was also an euphemism for "The Place of All Things Innocently Bad".)

"Big words!" Kirby exclaimed as he jumped up from where he was (attempting to) trim a bush with a kitchen knife. Before Bandana Dee could reply with his mild confusion: "If you have two consecutive days off, then we will do the only thing to be done with two consecutive days off! We will have a sleepover."

Bandana Dee paled. (With his face being the colour of cornsilk, he probably was literally white.) There was no explanation for the reaction—simply the Foreboding Feeling that was Always Right.

"Well—" He struggled for an excuse. There were none. "I... can't?"

"Why not? Are you scared there are monsters under my bed? Don't worry! I only keep gordos under there!"

"You keep—" Gordos? Bandana Dee briefly wondered if the "monsters under your bed" story stemmed from Kirby's very own bed. "Um. No. I just... can't?"

"Oh, right. Okay." Bandana Dee lifted his head, blinking at Kirby. "In that case, I will sleepover at your place in the castle—"

"No! No no no no no no!" All the easier it would be for the king to come up behind him and cosh him on the head with that misused hammer. "I—uh—have an appointment. With—the... grass!"

The first thoughts that bricked Bandana Dee on the head were all very promising. Of course.

Kirby bent over to dig the kitchen knife into the ground momentarily, so he didn't have to hold it. When he straightened himself, he tilted his head. "Grass? Like, grass grass? Plant grass? Green grass? Growing grass?"

"Yeah." It was all a very good idea. Bandana Dee could write a book: How to Save Yourself From Awkward Situations With Flair. "Um. Well. Fertilising, you see. With... cow shit?"

"Oh. Yeah. Yeah!" Kirby brightened like all the problems and questions in his life had been solved. "But... you're having a day off? So there wouldn't be any work?"

"Voluntary... work? They—like—um. We're short on botanists. Kind of."

"So you're a stand-in botanist! Okay. Got it!" A beam lit up Kirby's features. "That's great! I didn't know you were a fellow botanist, Band-Aid. You should've told me earlier so we could discuss plant health problems all day every day." He whirled around. Bandana Dee felt the air whizzing past him. "I have a few books to help! Stay here!"

While he stood outside, Bandana Dee debated on whether casually spinning out and away from the area would be safer or whether he should just wait for a vulture to stop by and eat him.

...Oh. Wait. Vultures only ate—

"Heeereee!" Kirby was back in a second, a stack of books occupying his stubs. Hesitantly, Bandana Dee reached out, but the pink puffball immediately dropped the entire collection onto the ground. He looked positively enthusiastic. Or whatever. "I'm so glad I get to pass down my skills to you, Band-Aid! My methods will never go out of tradition, now!"

Gingerly, as if it would bite him and his entire face off before quietly returning to its earlier form, Bandana Dee plucked the first book off of the stack. He scanned the cover and skimmed over the first few pages, filled with text of font size three thousand and cartoon-styled pictures.

"...This is a storybook." Bandana Dee closed it and held it up so Kirby could see the title—Bob the Cactus—before returning it to the pile. "I don't think they'll help..."

"Nonsense. Clearly, you've been getting your answers from some shady website in some shady, elusive corner of the internet." Kirby swiped a book from the middle of the pile, which miraculously remained steady, and then flipped it open dramatically. "What every plant needs is a good bedtime story! So, you may have all of these to read to the grass! Oh, yeah, they like stories about their relatives, particularly. Hence, Bob the Cactus."

"But Bob is a plastic plant." Pause. "Did you draw inspiration from this?"

Scowling, Kirby tossed the book back into the pile. "The book was written three years ago and Bob was born a year ago. Obviously, the author was copying me!"

"Uh."

"One last thing!"

Sometimes, Bandana Dee forgot that Kirby was the hero of Dream Land and therefore had pretty good reflexes and instincts and general movement. It was hard to not think that Kirby wasn't slow-moving when it came to combat, but he was actually so dastardly fast it was terrifying.

None of that gave an excuse for the flying knife that missed Bandana Dee by what felt like a nothing-metre.

Shrieking so loudly it'd put a banshee to shame, Bandana Dee dove forward face-first, inches away from the tower of books. He threw a glance at the offending object, and then looked up at the offending offender who had offensively flung the offending object.

"You need a butcher knife to mow your grass when you need to!"

"We have—a lawnmower!"

"But butter knives are more fun! They like swing and the things fall!"

"That's not a butter knife—"