The splurpens were at it again. Why did the government have to cross chickens and wetwipes?* Mila knew they were helpful, but they couldn't be less annoying. "BLLLUUUURGGGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" She shouted, as quietly as possible. She wished her splurpen command-phrase wasn't so stupid. Why had her parents let her come up with the phrase when she was five? It was embarrassing having to shout it whenever the splurpens acted up. Especially when her neighbor, Joe could hear.
Ah, Joe...his adorably furry unibrow, his green tinted goggles that hung so attractively on his unusually thick neck when not in use...
Mila could swear that he'd winked at her from his window the other day...
Mila stopped herself when she remembered she was forbidden from thinking about boys until she was forty-three. So Mila picked up her crocheting and began the endless looping and knotting again.
She was interrupted by the sound of laughter, and Mila looked out her tiny window, seeing the other kids in her neighborhood running around outside.
She wished she could be outside with them.
Unfortunately, Mila's parents were extremely overprotective. Mila hadn't left her room since the Incident 8 years ago. After the Incident, Mila's parents removed her bedroom door and replaced it with a wall, covered all her windows in bubble wrap, replaced most of her wardrobe with bulletproof Kevlar, and narrowed Mila's list of hobbies down to crocheting and tchouk ball. (But of course, her parents had neglected to equip her room with the equipment necessary for tchouk ball)
Mila also hadn't been able to cut her hair after the Incident (all sharp things had been confiscated from her room) Her hair dragged 5 feet from her head, and was quite inconvenient.
Luckily, after hours of careful picking, Mila had managed to unwrap one of her windows, so she did get fresh air. And she had a great view of the local playground. Nothing like a handful of flimsy plastic fixtures for children to throw up all over!
Mila crocheted.
Then her walkie-talkie bleeped. "Mila? Mila?"
Her parents! Mila's mother and father never went closer than 10 feet from her, in fear that they would transmit dangerous viruses to their precious daughter. Because of this, Mila and her parents communicated through walkie-talkie.
But lately, Mila's walkie talkie hadn't bleeped much...
"Mila, we need you to come out right now. We need to tell you something..." Mila perked up. She had read books in which a normal girl found out that she was actually the heir to a European principality, and Mila hoped that this was the something her parents wanted to tell her.
She bolted towards her bedroom door.
Then she remembered she didn't have a door.
She walkie-talkied her parents.
"Er...how do I get out?"
"Oh yeah...we've got that covered..."
Mila heard a series of loud thumps, and suddenly, she saw the tip of something sharp poke through the former location of her door.
Then the rest of the wall crumbled. And standing right there were her parents. Mila felt the urge to run up to them and hug them, like they did in books, but then she remembered the 10-feet-apart-at-all-times rule. But she also saw that her parents were covered with Germ Off! wrap.
So she hugged them.
"Mila, we feel you're old enough to handle this now. So we have to tell you some very important things."
Bristling with excitement, Mila prepared herself to accept the fact that she was the heir to the throne of some tiny country.
Mila's mother nodded to her father.
Her father took a deep breath.
"You're adopted." said her father.
Mila was raised her eyebrows.
Her mother said, "We're getting a divorce."
Mila's lips quivered.
Her father added, "And we're broke."
Mila fought back tears.
Her mother said, not missing a beat,
"We're vampires."
Mila was scared.
"Oh, and we've been fattening you up to eat you your whole life."
Mila started backing away.
"And you know young Joe next door? He's a werewolf, and he's been keeping an eye on you for us. We plan on giving him your body after we suck out your blood."
Mila screamed and jumped out her window.
"Your food has been poisoned, so you'll die anyway!" the undead couple called after her.
"Maybe we told her too much..." mused her mother.
Ah, Joe...his adorably furry unibrow, his green tinted goggles that hung so attractively on his unusually thick neck when not in use...
Mila could swear that he'd winked at her from his window the other day...
Mila stopped herself when she remembered she was forbidden from thinking about boys until she was forty-three. So Mila picked up her crocheting and began the endless looping and knotting again.
She was interrupted by the sound of laughter, and Mila looked out her tiny window, seeing the other kids in her neighborhood running around outside.
She wished she could be outside with them.
Unfortunately, Mila's parents were extremely overprotective. Mila hadn't left her room since the Incident 8 years ago. After the Incident, Mila's parents removed her bedroom door and replaced it with a wall, covered all her windows in bubble wrap, replaced most of her wardrobe with bulletproof Kevlar, and narrowed Mila's list of hobbies down to crocheting and tchouk ball. (But of course, her parents had neglected to equip her room with the equipment necessary for tchouk ball)
Mila also hadn't been able to cut her hair after the Incident (all sharp things had been confiscated from her room) Her hair dragged 5 feet from her head, and was quite inconvenient.
Luckily, after hours of careful picking, Mila had managed to unwrap one of her windows, so she did get fresh air. And she had a great view of the local playground. Nothing like a handful of flimsy plastic fixtures for children to throw up all over!
Mila crocheted.
Then her walkie-talkie bleeped. "Mila? Mila?"
Her parents! Mila's mother and father never went closer than 10 feet from her, in fear that they would transmit dangerous viruses to their precious daughter. Because of this, Mila and her parents communicated through walkie-talkie.
But lately, Mila's walkie talkie hadn't bleeped much...
"Mila, we need you to come out right now. We need to tell you something..." Mila perked up. She had read books in which a normal girl found out that she was actually the heir to a European principality, and Mila hoped that this was the something her parents wanted to tell her.
She bolted towards her bedroom door.
Then she remembered she didn't have a door.
She walkie-talkied her parents.
"Er...how do I get out?"
"Oh yeah...we've got that covered..."
Mila heard a series of loud thumps, and suddenly, she saw the tip of something sharp poke through the former location of her door.
Then the rest of the wall crumbled. And standing right there were her parents. Mila felt the urge to run up to them and hug them, like they did in books, but then she remembered the 10-feet-apart-at-all-times rule. But she also saw that her parents were covered with Germ Off! wrap.
So she hugged them.
"Mila, we feel you're old enough to handle this now. So we have to tell you some very important things."
Bristling with excitement, Mila prepared herself to accept the fact that she was the heir to the throne of some tiny country.
Mila's mother nodded to her father.
Her father took a deep breath.
"You're adopted." said her father.
Mila was raised her eyebrows.
Her mother said, "We're getting a divorce."
Mila's lips quivered.
Her father added, "And we're broke."
Mila fought back tears.
Her mother said, not missing a beat,
"We're vampires."
Mila was scared.
"Oh, and we've been fattening you up to eat you your whole life."
Mila started backing away.
"And you know young Joe next door? He's a werewolf, and he's been keeping an eye on you for us. We plan on giving him your body after we suck out your blood."
Mila screamed and jumped out her window.
"Your food has been poisoned, so you'll die anyway!" the undead couple called after her.
"Maybe we told her too much..." mused her mother.
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