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Daylight

Summary:
 ^^^Made by the lovely, twilightOCD (yes I know thats my pen name, duh.) This is pretty much what would happen if I was Bella. Well, not really Bella, just having gotten to Edward first (I always dream of that :P) It's kind of boring at first, maybe to you, but for me, imagining me doing that, is just so exciting. Wow...he's even hotter in person, lol.


Notes:


8. Chapter 8: I GOTTED THE PLATYPUS!

Rating 3.5/5   Word Count 1207   Review this Chapter

EDWARD’S POV

Why couldn’t I hear her thoughts? Or rather, their thoughts? Two seemingly normal humans, whose thoughts evaded me? Maybe it was some aversion to the secret ingredient of the weasel/platypus/cow cheese steak subs, that was not, in fact, hobo juice.

What is the secret ingredient? IT’S A SECRET. Duh. All I can say is that it is not hobo juice. Besides, what is hobo juice? I shuddered. I didn’t even want to know.

More importantly, why can’t I hear their thoughts? There’s nothing different about them, just that they don’t seem to be terrified by my family and I – such power was intoxicating (MUHUWAHAHAHAAAAAA) – and that they are completely random…but that’s not that weird.

What was I saying? Of course that was weird. The fact that Bella couldn’t remember the title of a TV show to save her life, and the fact that Jessica seems to hate her…that’s weird.

JESSICA’S POV

After finishing making the suited hobos’ sandwiches, I wiped my sweaty brow and let out a sigh. My dad had this weird attraction to strange hobos, who seem to be somehow related to me…but that could just be the asbestos kicking in…

“Hey Jess, I got you a pres-ent!” Dad called from down stairs in the basement.

“Is it a new pair of glasses?” I asked sarcastically.

“Noooo…even better!” He shouted.

I hurried down the stairs to see what had him so excited, almost tripping over Sammy, my pet platypus on the way. Then I stopped. Since when did I have a pet platypus?

“Dad, is that a platypus?”

“No, that’s your mother in a beaver/duck costume!” He shouted. The he was right next to me, handing me a square piece of paper. After I took it, he disappeared. “Platypuses look like that.”

“The plural form of PLATYPUS is NOT platypuses. IT’S FREAKING PLATYPI!” I screamed angrily. Then I looked at the paper.

On it was this:

“That doesn’t even look like a platypus! It looks like a deranged monkey wearing naught but socks that’s high on LSD!” I replied.

“Oh, sorry, that’s from my…uh…special magazine…you know…the one that I told you had attack monkeys inside it…”

“You mean Playboy?”

“Oh…um…yeah…”

“Okay…” I said, holding it out at arms length between my index and thumb fingers, then letting it drop to the ground.

“This,” he handed me another picture – this one was on a card with brown and yellow swirls on the back - , then flew back down the stairs, “is a platypus.”

“Is that a Yu-Gi-Oh card?”

“DO NOT QUESTION THE ALL KNOWING PHOTOBUCKET!”

“But this is a real card…on the actual card paper and everything…”

“DO NOT MOCK THE ALL WISE TRADING CARD MASTER!”

“Who?”

“Just…just shut up all ready.”

“Fine.” I stuck out my tongue and pouted.

“That’s what a platypus looks like.”

I looked down at my mom. Oh, right…Dad married a…not platypus. But she did look like one…it was probably just the Botox wearing off. “Hey platypus.”

She stood up on her back legs and opened her beak/bill thing. After pulling out a pink high heeled shoe – hey, that looks a lot like the ones I bought mom for Christmas – a strange gurgling sound that sounded a lot like “Sandwich” escaped.

“So what were you going to show me? Besides, you know, what a platypus looks like and all.”

“This!” He said, pointing to a small object that had a grey sheet draped over it, resting on the workbench.

“And what exactly is that?”

“You’ll see,” He said, dramatically pausing, his fingers inches away from the corner.

“Now?” Came a high pitched metallic-y voice from under the tarp.

“Yes now, GIR.”

“GIR?” I asked, perking up suddenly.

The tarp was thrown off, and the basement suddenly turned into an animated wonderland. I looked down at my hands, which were pale white claw things, connected to skinny green-sleeved arms. When I looked back up, I screamed with joy.

Where the tarp had been, was a grey robot with huge blue eye things. His tongue – I didn’t know robots had tongues… - hung out at the side in a look of stupidity, and the blue tipped antennae that was on his head stood up straight, just like a little alfalfa.

“OHMYGOD!!!!!” I exclaimed, running up and hugging the robot. When I did, he closed his unbelievably huge eyes and squealed.

“Yay!” He said in that high pitched tone, hugging me back. When I released him, he sat there for a moment, then held both of his claw hands up to his head into fists, and shook his head back and forth, hitting it on his fists.

“Awww…” I said, watching him act like a retard – oh wait, he wasn’t acting. Oh well.

When I looked back to my dad, he was smiling a huge cartoon smile, and he was all…cartoon-y. It seemed that he ruptured the time space continuum and created a world of cartoon-ness.

“I figured out how to rupture the time space continuum!” He said proudly.

“How did you do that?”

“Well, it seems that when you throw a sandwich that has been half eaten by a hobo and made of salami, weasel meat, cow tail, and a pig booger, with extra mayo and sandwiched between two pieces of pumpernickel bread, you can create a rip in the time space continuum. When I did, this little guy popped out, and I recognized him from your shirt.”

“THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!!!! I LOVE YOU DADDY!” I cried, running up and hugging him. From behind me, GIR hugged us too, creating a three-some – oh wait…that didn’t sound right… - more like a “cornucopia of love”.

“Why did you throw a sammich, anyway Mr. Lipid?” GIR asked from behind me.

“DON’T CALL ME MR. LIPID!” Dad yelled when we broke apart. “And, I threw it because I was mad at the hobo, and I did it in spite. He hit me with his shoe…” He rubbed his temple and frowned.

“Well, I’m gonna go Brittany and tell her the news! Would you get my phone GIR?” I asked, batting my eyes.

“Yes, my master!” He said, eyes turning red for a moment. Then he lifted off the ground and flew up the stairs, spiraling.

“Wait, GIR! Don’t forget your disguise!” My dad screamed.

“Oh yeah…” He mused, coming back down and grabbing a green dog suit from my father’s hands and slipping it on, then zipping it up. Then, he was off spiraling again.

In seconds, he was back, with my phone and the platypus on his back.

“I gotted the platypus!” He explained joyfully after handing me my phone.

“Let’s go to my room GIR!” I screamed in imitation. I lifted me onto his back and we flew off, forcing me to grab on to his long black fake ears so I wouldn’t fall off.