I honestly thought it was a typo
I've got four of them. Two girls and two boys. Very annoying. Mischievous. The one who you interacted with is [using initials now bc it's annoying keeping track of who is who and clarifying] is J. Youngest sis. The one who called Sam a potato and is now convinced she and I are part of a conspiracy against him is D. Oldest bro but still smaller than me. The one who talke dto Arya (I think? Or it was Lily.) was A, and he's crazy good at guessing my passwords. The one wjho won the bet is R, the oldest sis.
I can barely deal with one little sibling. How do you deal with 4???
Simple. I don't. And I'm insanely good at starting wars between them, which happened [possibly. we're on the brink] because of the Ravioli In Peace, otehrwis eknown as when Sam scared D. When that happens, tey leave me alone and I trade information and ammunition between sides. They pay me back in gummy bears and quarters. It's a win-win.
Omg, it's been almost month since I've been on notebook ToT
Hey, Trev! How's it going?
Pretty good, my bsf Mackenzie asked me out so I got that going for me but I broke my leg last week so yay!
That's fun! Why'd you break your leg?
An announcement: It has recently been brought to my attention that not only am I Luckless, but I am also duckless. If you have any ducks, I would like them, or I will fly down and steal them while you sleep. Thank you.
I don't have ducks but my sister does but the dog would probably get to you before you got to the ducks
A german shephard lab.
I only know because Lix told me.
I will steal someone else's ducks and leave the dog in peace.
Sam! May I steal your ducks?
I shrug Sure. I look around for a moment, then honk at 5 ducks. They immediately waddle over to you There you go. You are no longer duckless.
Ah, but now the fun of stealing ducks is gone. I accept the ducks regardless
I shrug Eh, why steal them when they'll come willingly?
raises hand You can steal my ducks!
Also, Sam, I have two things for you.
One: You've been renamed by my brother. You've been renamed Lily, which is apparently short for Lilith. It means "one of the night," but D told a baker's dozen of assorted tiny children that it meant "O evil potatoe person".
Two: A small child by the name of Hudson has asked me to pass along this message: Trombone weenies. I don't know what it means, and I don't want to know.
Oh, wait. Three things. D is under the illusion that you're a friend from school and thus knows where he lives. I have yet to tell him otherwise. He also has a spray bottle in his room now, maybe for cleaning, maybe not.
raises hand You can steal my ducks!
Also, Sam, I have two things for you.
One: You've been renamed by my brother. You've been renamed Lily, which is apparently short for Lilith. It means "one of the night," but D told a baker's dozen of assorted tiny children that it meant "O evil potatoe person".
Two: A small child by the name of Hudson has asked me to pass along this message: Trombone weenies. I don't know what it means, and I don't want to know.
Oh, wait. Three things. D is under the illusion that you're a friend from school and thus knows where he lives. I have yet to tell him otherwise. He also has a spray bottle in his room now, maybe for cleaning, maybe not.
Huh. Okay. I technically am One of the Night, so I guess it makes sense. I chuckle I love kids sometimes.
Hmmm. . . strangely enough, I might have some idea what that means.
Good. Hopefully that'll keep him from antagonizing me.
raises hand You can steal my ducks!
Also, Sam, I have two things for you.
One: You've been renamed by my brother. You've been renamed Lily, which is apparently short for Lilith. It means "one of the night," but D told a baker's dozen of assorted tiny children that it meant "O evil potatoe person".
Two: A small child by the name of Hudson has asked me to pass along this message: Trombone weenies. I don't know what it means, and I don't want to know.
Oh, wait. Three things. D is under the illusion that you're a friend from school and thus knows where he lives. I have yet to tell him otherwise. He also has a spray bottle in his room now, maybe for cleaning, maybe not.
Huh. Okay. I technically am One of the Night, so I guess it makes sense. I chuckle I love kids sometimes.
Hmmm. . . strangely enough, I might have some idea what that means.
Good. Hopefully that'll keep him from antagonizing me.
All I know is he was having a debate with his little brother, who knows exactly seven words: Hot, dog, mama, daddy, hungy, no, trombone and weenies. I was told that they could hear them screaming at each other from the sanctuary, two floors up.
I snort That was the perfect choice of words. He's turned you into a Disney-esque villain who wears a black cape and threatens [not-so] innocent children with the flames of evil. He told this story to the crew of tiny humans. They had their own take on you, and their version is you were a pirate who fights with a cutlass against cats.
Sundays are weird.
Lol, fair. Apparantly I can speak little kid then.
I snicker Apparantly. I tilt my head slightly Really? It's villainess. Not villain. However, the flames of eveil thing is more accurate than the tiny one thinks. I snort Pirate? The only things I pirate are peoples hearts. Sometimes their lives.
I'm not so fluent. I tried and got my book thrown down two flights of stairs.
Yes, but he has no way of knowing that. All he has to go by is your pfp, which he says is either a "deformed and petrified potato or the paper bag princess but way ugly".
The small children weren't pirating things quite so drastic. Mostly cookies, my book, and wooden tomatoes to tomato the kid playing you. [because they didn't have stones, so what was the point of stoning you with tomatoes if it wasn't called tomatoeing you?] [like I said: Sundays are weird.]
Lol, I've always found it kinda easy to translate fucky English.
Tell him I said he'll be on fire longer for that one.
Hm. They are little kids, so it makes sense. I do enjoy cookies. Your book. . . I'd need to know where you live for that. Not too difficult, but at the same time. . . very difficult. Wooden tomatos? Nah. I'd use real stones.
I can translate Franglais, the language R made up, and kids who actually know what they're talking about.
To that, he says he'll bring you back and kill you again in the sequel. Long story short, D and I were on Watch Those Kiddos duty on Sunday at church. I was doing stuff, he was not. They asked for a story, and he told them the Tale Of How Danny The Brave Defeated That One Potato (Yes, that's what he calls it. Yes, his name is Danny. No, we're not twins. Yes, I've heard all the jokes before.) Which is how come those small humans came to know of you. He dropped you from a fifty-foot waterfall [he was speaking from experience - and can I just say I did NOT do it on purpose] and you were presumed dead.
But when they go outside, they cover themselves in mud, make bows and arrows out of sticks (or, they try to) and fling cookies, worms and assorted Lego blocks at each other. They're not allowed outside, for a good reason. Also, the service was going on and I could just imagine the pastor talking about blah blah, the devil and his demons are everywhe- BOOM. A small child, splattered in mud, worm guts and cookie crumbs runs into the door, in full view of everyone.
Yeah, that would be something.
Fran. . . nope. Not asking.
How? I snort at the name I was still alive anyways. I survived the waterfall with very minor injuries. (Hm. Tell me the story behind that one.)
Yep. Little kids be like that all the time. Give them mud, they get covered in it. I snicker Tell a child to do that next Sunday.
