Seems I'm the Only One My Size; (Tinkerbell/Open)
Feb 5, 2010 22:28:34 GMT -5
Post by firefly91 on Feb 5, 2010 22:28:34 GMT -5
A percussion of glasses and plates shattering and vast, silver crocks toppling onto the ground abruptly sounded in the kitchen of Tony's. The hair raising clatter seemed endless, breaking the once calm and sentimental aura around the restaurant. Broken shards and copper vessels regressed onto the slick tiles, making it a hazardous obstacle to shuffle through, never mind run but the hefty, mustached man persisted after the insect that had dared access his domain.
"Get-a outta my-a kitchen-a, you filthy fly!" the chubby swain bellowed, wielding a rusty frying pan at Ray. The firefly gave a thin shriek and immediately swerved to the left, trying to dodge the manager's constant blows towards him. It was an imminent escape but Ray was able to tear out after another minute or two through a hole in the wall beside the mottled sink. He was unscathed for the most part but one of his antennas bent crookedly into his capacious, black eyes. He respired hastily, flitting it out his vision before he resumed ambling down the wall.
Ray could still hear the greatly roused owner from the other side of the plaster, murmuring angrily in his native tongue.
"Dat waz près..." the firefly panted tautly, still shaken up a bit from Tony clamoring after him, determined to bash him into a pancake. "Oui, I done coulda bin wrecked again." It took another duration for his tiny heart to cease beating so rapidly and he eventually drifted down to an unoccupied booth near the back.
Ray had to admit the abode was pretty nice when he wasn't trying to avoid being struck by somebody's swatter, hand, or rolling pin. He traipsed across the surface of the wooden table, hovering upwards and peering into a mug of hot chocolate somebody must have left behind. He scooped some of the sweet beverage into his feeler and sipped it up complacently. Ray had never tasted anything more délicieux in his life and he quickly, sort of selfishly reached for more.
"Get-a outta my-a kitchen-a, you filthy fly!" the chubby swain bellowed, wielding a rusty frying pan at Ray. The firefly gave a thin shriek and immediately swerved to the left, trying to dodge the manager's constant blows towards him. It was an imminent escape but Ray was able to tear out after another minute or two through a hole in the wall beside the mottled sink. He was unscathed for the most part but one of his antennas bent crookedly into his capacious, black eyes. He respired hastily, flitting it out his vision before he resumed ambling down the wall.
Ray could still hear the greatly roused owner from the other side of the plaster, murmuring angrily in his native tongue.
"Dat waz près..." the firefly panted tautly, still shaken up a bit from Tony clamoring after him, determined to bash him into a pancake. "Oui, I done coulda bin wrecked again." It took another duration for his tiny heart to cease beating so rapidly and he eventually drifted down to an unoccupied booth near the back.
Ray had to admit the abode was pretty nice when he wasn't trying to avoid being struck by somebody's swatter, hand, or rolling pin. He traipsed across the surface of the wooden table, hovering upwards and peering into a mug of hot chocolate somebody must have left behind. He scooped some of the sweet beverage into his feeler and sipped it up complacently. Ray had never tasted anything more délicieux in his life and he quickly, sort of selfishly reached for more.