• “…How is it that these things always manage to happen while we’re the only ones home?!” L’ehve demanded.

    “I don’t know, L’ehve,” I groaned, taking several more pictues from different angles. After all, I needed proof of this, and proof that did not look like it had been Photoshopped by a nine-year-old. “The popcorn popper was one thing, but this…”

    I guess the world was exceptionally bored that day, because it had randomly decided to turn my house into a ridiculously large pumpkin. …yeah, I didn’t get it, either.

    “I don’t think our insurance covers things like this,” the magpie said unhelpfully.

    “…well what do we do.”

    “Call ‘Ripley’s Believe it or Not!’” he said enthusiastically.

    “Wh. Whaaaaat. Are you kidding. Even Naruto wouldn’t believe this,” I said disdainfully.

    “Did you just go there?” my dæmon asked incredulously.

    “I rather think I did,” I said proudly.

    “But seriously, what do we do.”

    I struck a thinking pose. It looked fairly impressive until I brutally killed it by lamely uttering, “Well I have no idea.”

    “Hm. This is quite a problem. I don’t suppose panicking would do us any good,” L’ehve commented.

    “No, it wouldn’t.”

    There was a pause.

    We panicked.

    We ran around in tiny circles, yelling, no, shrieking like banshees from the bowels of our lungs, arms (and wings, in my dæmon’s case) held high in the air. “CRAAAAAAAAP WHAT DO WE DOOO WE’RE SO SCREWWWWWED OH CRAAAAAP—”

    “I am SO gonna get blamed for this!” I screamed in an outrage.

    “WE ARE SO DEAAAAD!”

    “It’s been nice knowing you, me bucko!” I sobbed pathetically, squeezing him in my arms.

    “Au revoir forever!” the dæmon wailed.

    We knelt on the driveway, sobbing like six-year-old girls, lamenting our early deaths. If we were lucky we’d get the electric chair, we thought.

    All at once there was a sharp SNAP! Like a firecracker had gone off.

    We cracked our eyes open, ceasing our death bawls.

    Miraculously, nay, rather conveniently, the house was back to normal.

    We stared at it in a complete, dumbfounded silence.

    “Well that was remarkably easy,” the magpie said, his voice unnaturally calm. “All we have to do is panic to reverse the effects?”

    “That makes no sense,” I sighed. “I miss when science actually worked in this neighborhood.”

    “Let’s go inside, we can have a nice memorial service for science. It’ll be the best funeral ever.”

    “Okay.”

    And so we did, and it was.

    R.I.P
    SCIENCE


    The end