Paint Work

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
a story of what happens when a llama obsessed child dosen't get their own way

Submitted: November 01, 2011

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Submitted: November 01, 2011

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“What are you doing?” Renee asked as I finished my masterpiece with a dramatic swish. Wiping my hands on my trousers and placing a dripping wet paintbrush on to the table, I turned to face her, grinning.

“I,” I declared, gesturing to the wall behind me, “Am getting back at the world.” For a second we both stood there, staring at the once pale cream wall. Now there were the words “follow my demands or I will steal all the food in the fridge” painted on in blood red paint. Renee opened her mouth to say something but I held up one paint smudged hand in protest. She shut it with a snap. Darting out of the living room I headed to the kitchen where a piece of paper with a bullet point list on was lying ready. The crisp white surface was covered with black ink in messy handwriting. Renee’s voice drifted in from the other room.

“And by the world, you mean your parents?” Seconds later I heard footsteps as she came to see what I was doing. Snipping a piece of cello-tape of the roll, I stuck it carefully along the top of the page and hurried back into the living room.

“Yes, yes I do.”

“Where did u get the paint anyway?”

“The hardware shop.” For a few glorious seconds she was quiet.

“Why not use marker pens?”

“You don’t get the effect.” I stated.

“What effect.”

“The blood looking one.”

After mentally checking the list to see if anything else needed to be added, I carefully stuck the note under my message, and then took a step back to admire my handiwork.  Personally, I thought it was a genius idea. Renee, on the other hand, seemed a little more dubious.

“Beth, seriously, are you sure you’re not going too far with this. I mean, they didn’t do anything wrong.” I gave her a look that translated as ‘stop talking if you like having use of your arms, you will stop talking.’ Striding over to her, I looked her straight in the eye. Well as close as I could get considering I was half a foot shorter than her.

“Renee, I’m going to say this very, very slowly so your teeny tiny brain understands. You are my best friend. As my best friend you’re sole purpose as a human being is to follow my orders and praise my immense awesomeness. Capiche?” Instead of answering my question, she burst out laughing and continued to criticize me.

“Now I’m going to say this very, very slowly. I think you’re going over the top. Being melodramatic. Mountain out of a molehill etcetera. And the drawing is a bit creepy.” I turned to face the small picture I had painted on after my message. The outline of a llama. Tilting my head sideways to look at it from a different angle, I still didn’t see the creepiness.

“No, this serves them right.  You can’t just drive past llama land and not go in. It’s inhumane. They know how much i adore llamas. And they drove straight past! Until they take me back there the messages in red shall continue!” And with that I grabbed the paintbrush and headed out to start on the car.

 

The End


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