“Gary!”
“Okay, fine! Pete. Just… grab them all. I’ll make decisions as we go. Though no one should ever have to make scarf decisions on the fly. That’s just preposterous.”
Pete went back inside.
Ten minutes later.
“AND THE adventure begins!” I said again. The crowd clapped. It wasn’t as jubilant as before. Fuck them.
We made it two steps.
“Did you pack the hoof pick?” Gary asked.
The crowd sighed.
“No,” I ground out. “I don’t have hooves. Ergo, it’s not my responsibility.”
“Well, I certainly didn’t think of it,” Gary retorted. “I was too busy doing lunges to make sure I was strong enough to carry all of your shit on my back like some common pack mule! And you know how my hooves get. I may be a strong, independent unicorn, but I have delicate hooves that must be properly taken care of lest they begin to hurt. And you know how I am with hurt hooves.”
“Trust me, I know. The bitching never stops.”
“Then why are you still talking about it?”
I ran my hand over my face. “Pete.”
“Yes, Sam.”
“Could you please get Gary’s hoof pick?”
“Yes, Sam. Sam?”
“Yes, Pete.”
“You should probably stop grinding your teeth. That’s not healthy.”
“Thank you, Pete. I wouldn’t have known otherwise.”
He walked away, muttering something about snarky apprentices.
Five minutes later.
“AND THE adventure begins,” I muttered. A few people clapped. Most just stared.
We made it three steps.
“Tiggy,” Gary called. “Oh, Tiggy. Did you remember to pack your pajamas? You know you can’t sleep without your pajamas.”
Tiggy’s shoulders slumped. “I forgot,” he said.
“Pete.”
“Yes, Sam.”
“Tiggy’s pajamas.”
“Yes, Sam.”
Seven minutes later.