 Help us we're a bunch of letters stuck in this box !!
Ignorant of the current bestial nonviolence discussion, Tino was concentrating on piecing his quill back together. He wasn't quite sure where the ink went but maybe it could be refilled once it was fixed. La-dee-dahh. Issy was so kind as to lend him her glue. It was even. . . sparkly. And blue. His quill was going to be the fanciest in the class!
Unscrewing the cap off the top of the little jar, Tino swirled its contents with the brush. A little dab here. A little dab there. Splishity-splashity. Sploosh! Hmm. This stuff was drippy. Tino turned backwards in his chair and motioned towards Celandine. He held up his newly-gluey writing utensil, covered in blue sparkles, and grinned. He knew Cela was a lady who appreciated pretty things. Maybe she would appreciate a man with pretty things.
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His glass is half-empty. And it's not what he ordered. |