I took Emily Dunbar and J.T. Carlton‘s “Color by Words” challenge. I wanted, at first, to make something serious and well thought-out with it, but decided against it. The words the random generator picked for me were “Victorian” and “Wombat”. Here’s what my insanely-weird mind came up with.
Here I was, minding my own business, drifting on an old plank of wood I’d found amidst the floating debris in the water (I know, I know; I can already hear you grown: How realistic is that? You just happen to find a conveniently-placed plank of wood in the middle of nowhere? Purh-leeeeese!), when I met company. And, mind you, by “company” I don’t mean anything that a perfectly-sane and normal human being would usually think of. No, in my case company presented itself in the form of a victorian wombat. Yes, you heard me correctly. No, it isn’t time for your yearly visit to the optometrist either (though perhaps you should consider going more often, once a year is most definitely not often enough). Anyway, back to the story: What you see before you now, fair gentlemen (and gentle-lady for the girl in red in the back row) is your ordinary victorianum wombatum … don’t ask me, I don’t speak latin nor did I know what the h*ll it was any more than you do. There it was, just chillin’ with a white, frilly parasol, a baby-blue dress with ruffles and even a God-damned hat! I could even see baby-blue flowers woven into its wig poking out from beneath its hat.
Now, mind you, I knew I was dehydrated, but this was going too far. “Piss off”, I suggested very politely and kindly.
“I should like to inquire as to the reason of your presence, young peasant, on my travelling ship. What, pray tell, may you be doing here?” the ridiculous thing asked in a British accent.
“Your – your ‘travelling ship'”, I scoffed.
Wrong answer, the wombat got flustered: “Yes, my darling, my travelling ship. And if you should know, I am on a quest to find the Pineapple Kingdom. You wouldn’t happen to have come across it during your… what work do peasants do exactly?”
What. The. Holy. Shrimp. My friends must have given me a bit too much before I fell asleep, that or I really am lost in the middle of the ocean with a wombat in fluffy clothes. I slumped back on the delapidated, ruined piece of wood, but the wombat had clearly not finished its noble task of pissing the f*ck out of me.
“How preposterous of you to ignore me in this manner, I am a human being, you know, I should think I deserve respect!” . I snorted pitifully.
“Leave me alone, you stupid old thing”
“I have a name, thank you very much. I’m called Pearl Ethel Alderdice countess of Leicester”. I ignored the ridiculously sarcastic wombat and used my arms and legs to paddle through the dark water of the ocean. Alone on a raft in the middle of Lord know where, I was already in a deep-enough mess. I had no need for my sanity to be tested right now, couldn’t it wait ’til I got old and senile? I’m way too young for this ish, I thought.
“Would you please be so kind as to stop cursing so much. It’s unbecoming”, Miss Pearly-Two-Shoes added.
“I didn’t even say anything!” I responded, outraged that a silly beaver-looking-thingy would condescend to me like this, who did she think she was? If it even was a “she”, by the looks of it, it could have gone either way.
“I do not permit you!” I screeched back at me. I’d pissed it off too, great.
“I didn’t even say it aloud!” I repeated
“But you thought it, all thoughts leave a mark, an imprint on your soul, if you will. Therefore you must be careful and watch your thoughts lest they mar your spirit”. With that, the irritating, persistent, moralising wombat vanished from existence, and left mv to deal with my lost state all alone, without anything to distract me.