Chapter 5: Of Creepy Old Men and Reasons To Move On

In places that I thought people may judge me for shopping in, in a good way, bad way, or with some sort of peculiar 'that's out of character, isn't it?', I would always start doing some real-life acting. My shoulders would relax and my legs would traipse around reluctantly, and my eyes would look bored and tired. Sometimes I didn't even do this on purpose. It just… took over. Like clouds crossing the sun. Regrettably, in this mode I would sigh, a lot.

Which, unfortunately, was what gave me away.

"Looking for anything in particular, missus?"

My fingers twitched at my sides as I turned to the man behind the cluttered desk of the junk shop, giving him a fleeting once-over before averting my eyes to the many other objects that filled the dark room. "No, thank you." My voice sounded quieter to my ears than I had meant it to sound.

Truth be told, the old man scared me. It was pretty obvious that he was over the age of fifty - probably closer to the sixty-plus side of life, though I couldn't really be sure because my own Dad was around 58 and he looked about 60 - due to his wrinkled face and his thin skin, his veins quite obvious around the muscle of his arms. His skin had a leathery look to it, as if the man had spent a lot of his life out in the sun, and he looked like he had taken good care of himself over the years, his arms very buff and from what I could see of him, his body structure still seemed pretty lean, rather than starting to gather body fat the way that many people do as they get older. In the shadow of the room, his figure and face were shadowed, adding to his fear-factor.

This was without mentioning the tattoos that accompanied his standing-out veins along his skin. The man had some kind of seagull-in-the-distance tattoo on his forehead - three above each other with a line down the centre to join them together - somewhat hiding the furrowing wrinkles that I had no doubt rested there. Coming out from under his left shirt-sleeve - he was wearing some kind of short-sleeved button-up shirt with a pocket on one side - was some kind of monster head, with huge, spiky teeth coming down past the man's elbow. The monster itself wasn't very creative in looks, but its eyes were still intimidating and fierce. On the back of his left hand he had some kind of compass-like tattoo. On the forearm of his right arm there was some sort of tribal-like diamond.

And despite his look of an ageing man, he still had a full head of gingery-sandy hair, parted on the left and all… quiffy. His eyes were thin and stretched, and there was just something about that wide smile of his in this light that made him look incredibly creepy.

So I doubt that I have to express how creeped out I was.

For a few moments I was left to my own devices - or, rather, left to fiddle about carefully with the little trinkets that interested me around the closest shelves. I say carefully because, as a parent likes to reinforce to their children when they're at a young age, my father always told me and my sister "Look with your eyes and not with your hands." My Dad was the scary lawman of the house, so we usually complied. Even now his voice rang in my head… however, it was quite hard to see everything about an object in such a cluttered and dim-lighted room, so I did 'look with my hands'. But carefully. Like the goody-two-shoes that I was (hah).

But then, typically, my momentary peace was shattered - along with the chance of other more physical objects getting shattered due to clumsy teenagers who could often be described as "butt-monkeys".

While I had been idly fiddling about with a small mantelpiece wind-up clock, the man behind the cluttered desk had stood up and come up behind me, silently (creeeeeepyyyy), and without letting me know of his presence before hand just said, "Sure you ain't looking for something, missus?"

Frightened out of my skin, I stumbled sideways, knocking into a chair, which duly began to fall sideways, with all of the small objects that had been lying on its lap sliding off one by one.

At first this wasn't too bad, because the chair fell right onto another chair, of which the small objects could slide onto, and, plus, the second chair was a lot more sturdy and wouldn't fall over, even after such a push.

However, it did slide to the side from the force, which knocked it into the handle of some sort of broom or mop or something which had been precariously jutting out from underneath a large pile of rather heavy-looking objects.

The freaking horror that must have been written all over my face, man.

Imagine the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Imagine those sections of it starting to slide forwards, starting from the top and moving downwards, sliding off one by one and making the most diverse-sounding racket at the same time.

That.

That.

My life, please destroy it.

It was a 'junk-slide', the old man would tell me in a few moments, after the racket had quietened down and the sliding objects had come to a stop, barricaded by the window.

Some kind of clock fell down from the pile and bounced off the floor, landing a few inches away. I could hear its insides jingling and grinding as they hit the ground, and I flinched again, staring at the poor time-keeping object with horror-filled dismay. "I'm s-sorry!" I squeaked to the man, unable to turn around and look him in the eye.

"Ahhhhh," to my relief he didn't sound angry, "Don't worry. Happens at least once a month. Call it a junk-slide." He scratched the back of his head thoughtfully. "Whatcha really need to look out for is when you can hear the cracking glass - don't want that, it's a pain to replace."

I breathed out slowly, trying to calm my heart beat into something more calm and human-like, rather than dying and mouse-like. Putting both hands up to my face, I rubbed my eyes under my glasses and then adjusted them after their disturbance. Sheesh. The klutz has returned, yay. So much yay.

Unfortunately this seemed to bring the old man's attention back to me. "Nice watch you have there, missus. Fancy selling it?"

I turned to him, finally able to look him in the eye. With furrowed eyebrows and widened eyes, I stated, "No."

He smiled at me with his creepiness, his expression suggesting that he would convince me somehow or another. His creepiness coming back two-fold, I decided that it would probably be a good time to leave while I was ahead. And not knocking stuff over.

"Sure you won't? I'll trade it with something, you know I've got some nice stuff in here~"

I shook my head and gave him a stern look. Like hell he was getting this watch, this was my watch. I had decided long before coming to the One Piece world that I was going to keep using it for as long as it worked - coming into the OP world had just reinforced that thought. "No deal, good sir, and I must now take my leave."

He seemed amused by my last statement, but relented anyway. "Ahh, alright. Come again soon!"

As I opened and shit the door behind me, I face-palmed and let out a quiet growl. "Like hell, mister-creepy-old-person!" I murmured to myself.

With a sigh I straightened myself up and began the long-ish walk back to the bakery. I'd hardly spent any time in the Junk Shop, and yet already it felt like it had been a long and tiresome day.

The streets weren't badly crowded - because it was Saturday most of the people that were usually milling about were instead bustling around in the marketplace. I frowned at the thought - I hadn't seen Penny since I'd first come to, what was it, Algreen? Yeah. And I'd gotten to know the town better - I could now navigate the whole place by myself, not to mention that I was starting to explore the shortcuts and alleyways. The great thing about this town was that there didn't seem to be many thuggish characters about. As long as I was careful, I shouldn't run into any shady characters.

…As much as the idea that I hadn't seen Penny to thank her since she'd gotten me a job at her daughter's (and Bruce's) bakery bothered me, I decided that today just wasn't a good day to go and see her. The streets were more empty than usual, which suggested that there were more people at the market, and that would be an absolute pain to navigate, and Penny would be swept off her feet anyway. Not to mention that some of the residents of Algreen still recognised me as the scrawny kid that had first arrived here, mucky and starving. Even though I now looked healthy, albeit still a little thin, and as clean as a whistle, my reputation had forever been tarnished. Not to mention that flat caps were not the height of fashion.

But, what the hell. Why should I care that I had overheard some women saying that I shouldn't have shown myself in such a state to begin with, that I should have just stayed in the shadows or died quietly in a corner, that begging for food was such a shameful act. Why should I care if they thought my hat was ugly? I thought that their hats were ugly, with their big poofy leaves and feathers, with plastic grapes and such on the side. My hat was much simpler, much less of a show but much more of a character.

The epitome of cool.

…Anyway. As I re-continued my pondering over the name Algreen - I'm sure that I've heard it before somewhere - I wandered close to one of my favourite shortcuts. Just before I turned to walk down it, something in the beginning of the market crowds caught my eye. I paused and strained my eyes, trying to see exactly what it was that had drawn my gaze to the crowds. Subconsciously I thanked the sky that it was cloudy today, because if it had been sunny then looking into the distance would have been freaking impossible.

Hair. That was it - did I recognise it? Who's was it? One of the girls from sch- shut up Elmo, you damn idiot, that's impossible. You don't recognise that person's hair, dumbshit, just go back to the bakery already.

Following my own instructions while telling myself off for falling for my own tricks of the mind, I walked down the alleyway with my thoughts focused on my own berating. I needed to become more aware of my own thoughts and what I was thinking and letting myself believe.

Of course, while thinking about how I needed to be more aware of things, I didn't notice the sound of running footsteps coming up behind me until it was too late, and I was flung around and punched in the gut before getting pushed up against the wall.

"You! You're still alive? I left you by that lighthouse to die, why the hell can't you follow simple instructions? Why the hell are you here?"

I was too busy spluttering and trying to breath after being so forcefully winded the pay attention to what I was being asked, but I'd have had to have been cursed with the worst memory in the world to not recognise that voice.

Symphony.

"…So where do you come from?" "Tellus."

"Where's that?"

"Several miles North of Algreen."

"…Where's Algreen?"

So bloody stupid. My memory was a sieve at the worst of times. I was so bloody screwed.

I felt a forceful hand take my jaw and move my head vehemently so that our eyes were meeting, but at the same time I felt my strength leave me and my body go weak. My throat let out some kind of weird gurgling noise.

Somehow - and I don't know how, I really don't - this reaction made Symphony even angrier than she already was. Her hand that was on my jaw moved to my neck, and with a surprising show of strength she lifted me off the ground, still roughly pushing my body against the brick wall. "You've-" her eyes narrowed darkly and her mouth morphed into a horrid sneer. "I can't believe you've- Oh, I hate you, I really hate you, I hope you know that, you absolute idiot."

If I'd had the energy I would've flinched at the words, but with the girl's hand crushing my throat mercilessly I couldn't do much more than gurgle in protest. Typically only thinking about irrelevant things while in this death-grip, I noticed that both of Symphony's hands were covered in new elbow-length grey gloves with metal bands around the forearms and wrists. She was also wearing a different dress, with frills around the neckline. Her clothed fingers suddenly squeezed at my neck, as if she could see that my mind was going off track and that she wanted me to pay attention.

With Symphony's hand held against my throat - the left had, I noted dopily in my annoyingly helpless state - I could barely even struggle against her hold. In films, where one of the characters had gotten lifted up by the throat, I'd always sat there thinking 'Kick the damn guy! Flail your legs like you'll never flail them again!'.

I had never realized just how hard that actually was. But there was something about this, something unnatural about it that it scared me. That feeling of the plasticy grey gloves - and, oh, hey, she was wearing a ring on her middle finger, interesting - was chilling me to the bone.

She raised me higher, pressing me against the rough stone wall of the building. I could feel myself beginning to choke as I spluttered, "Sym-Symph-" and then another spluttering of coughs. I still didn't have a clue what I'd done, despite the shorter's angry outburst earlier, which had told me nothing.

"You've ruined everything," she ground out fiercely, her face dark and threatening in the shadow of the alleyway. I swallowed painfully, my heart hammering and my mind screaming at me to do something, anything to get out of this grip, because, god, with those eyes she could actually kill me and bloody hell did I not want to die without even knowing why I was killed in the first place.

"…No, no, you're right, can't let this hold us back, can we?" For a second the girl's eyes flickered away, but when they came back to meet mine they had gained quite the evil glint. I was confused enough by the way that Symphony had just spoken - was she talking to herself? - but this, this made me ask the kind of question that was always repeated so much in films that it had become cheesy, cliché.

What was she going to do?

As I opened my mouth to ask the question aloud, Symphony loosened her grip and my knees jarred painfully as my feet hit the ground again. At my pained yelp the girl's smirk grew wider. She lifted up her right hand, twiddled her fingers as if she was waving at me, and then with a swift shake of her wrist what I could only describe as some sort of sparking grey flame appeared in the palm of her hand.

Now, I'm not sure if you've ever seen a film with this sort of thing in it. I seem to remember there being some sort of magician somewhere that did a similar motion, only they'd end up with some sort of sheet of cloth to wave around instead (which had probably been hidden up his sleeve).

Personally I was a little freaked out.

…Okay, I was very freaked out. At the look in my eyes Symphony's smirk widened even more, into some sort of twisted grin. "I hope you don't mind becoming my little… experiment." Then she started to slowly lower her flaming-hand to my gut, watching the fear in my eyes increase with every inch that it drew closer.

If I didn't feel so sapped of energy, by this point I probably would've been struggling for my life. Fuck. Why was I so sapped of energy? Fuck my life, fuck my life, I'm gonna die. All I could think was how unfair this was - what was the point of me getting pulled into this world only to die so soon into my travels? To my dismay I heard myself let out a wailing squeak from my clenched teeth, and despite myself I could feel my eyes watering. Clenching my eyes shut didn't help it - if anything I could feel the tears overflowing the dams that were my eyelids. I cursed to myself. God damnit, Elmo, don't die such a cowardly death, don't freaking cry in front of this girl because you're scared. Open your eyes! Stare her in the eye! Let her know what she's doing! Taking a human life - and if she takes pleasure in that, blimmin' haunt her for the rest of her days, do you hear me? Steal her keys god damnit!

No matter what I told myself, I was captured by my own fear, and my prisoner of a body was a traitor to my own feelings. At the same time as I felt tears start to flood my cheeks I felt Symphony's hand hit my gut like another winding blow. For a second I hoped that perhaps this wasn't a fatal blow, that all I was doing was exaggerating and that this wouldn't actually kill me.

But as my eyes shot open and I stared back at the girl who had brought me into this world, I felt my life draining from me the same way that my energy had left me moments ago. Fingers numbing, pins and needles shooting up my legs and arms, and then, nothing.

My sight and hearing were the last things to go, as I heard a faint "Little miss, I'd leave her alone if I were you…" and saw Symphony drop me with an angry and scared look on her face.

My body hit the cold floor like a sack of bricks, tumbling and clumsy. Everything was slow, clear. Blurry at the edges.

The last thing I remember seeing was Symphony's leather boots turning tail and running in slow motion, before I felt the warm arms of death embrace me.

.

..

…

….

…..

…You have no idea how disorientating it is to go through the feeling of death and then wake up.

Alive.

Sitting on one of the very chairs you'd been admiring in a certain junk shop less than half a day ago.

What the hell was all that? A dream? Either my dreams were getting more imaginative or-

Fuck no, the hell was that a dream, what was I on, drugs? That was too realistic, too… I don't even know what it was! Why was I here?

Despite that there was now very little light coming in through the windows - or, rather, making its way into the room by winding its way around the many objects that were cluttered in front of the glass - the room was brighter than it had been earlier in the day due to a large Victorian lamp (one of those ones with a fat vase bottom and dangly bits off the shade piece). Somehow the cheery yellow light emanating from the lamp made the junk shop a lot more friendly, which was a large contrast to the paler white light that had been coming in from the cloudy sky before. For a second I was fooled by the lamp, as my 21st-century-civilisation-starved mind relaxed into thinking it was a light bulb and that the lamp was plugged into the wall somewhere, that it was using electricity.

The illusion was blown away at the same time that the door behind the desk the lamp was sitting on was opened, causing a small draft that made the flame in the small oil cage beneath the lamp's shade flicker. I frowned in disappointment automatically, and then shook my head at myself after realizing how easily I'd fallen into the lie that my own mind had whipped up for me, again. I always had been terribly gullible, but to think that I could even fall for my own tricks twice in one day?

That was a bit, uh, worrying.

Remind me to never lie to myself.

"You a little lost, missus?"

"Eh?" My attention was brought back to the present as the owner of the Junk Shop entered the room.

"You seem to be lost in your own world there." It was a shock to see the man give me a widened smile and not look creepy. In fact, in this light, he looked pretty friendly. With a playful expression like that, he really reminded me of Penny.

I smiled at him. "I'm alright. Thanks."

The man pulled up one of the less cluttered chairs from what looked like a leaning tower of books and folded cloth, carefully moving the few items that were on the cushioned surface to another space amongst the disorder. "What's with the thanks?" he asked as he sat down somewhat stiffly.

I furrowed my eyebrows slightly. "You… You are the person who came into the alleyway, aren't you? Yeah, you must be, I recognised your voice… Did… didn't I?" My confusion grew as the man's face remained blank.

Then he cracked a smile. "Aye, that I am. Had you going there, didn't I?" He laughed. I gave him a dry look. His smile widened. "Glad you remember. Thought for a while there that I'd get a girl waking up in hysterics because she'd ended up in some creepy old guy's shop!" He laughed even harder, then.

I stared at him, trying to look unimpressed - this guy, he didn't even know how close he was to the truth! Earlier that day, if anyone had asked me I would've said that I was never going to come in here ever again. He was still laughing! Was he an idiot? - but there was just something quite infectious about this guy's laugh. It was an odd one, with some kind of wheezy and high pitched "Hee Hee Hee!" theme to it, but all the same I couldn't help but smirk. I'm terrible enough at not laughing in funny situations, this guy was not helping.

Eventually his crazy laugh calmed into a low chuckle. Then his face became more serious. "Gotta ask, what happened in that passageway?"

I frowned and furrowed my eyebrows, breaking eye-contact to look at my hands in my lap. It was a good question, a very good question indeed - but not one that I knew the answer to. I could've sworn that Symphony had been sucking the life out of me, but right now I didn't feel any different. It was incredibly odd how she had managed to drain my strength and then make me feel like I was losing my life's energy as well… incredibly odd. That would bother me for a while - Symphony hadn't been able to do anything like that to me before, so why had that happened now? Was it the gloves? Maybe there was something in the gloves that sapped energy, some kind of chemical… but no, that was stupid…

My eyebrows furrowed even more as I thought about it, practically morphing into a unobrow. Wait a second, I wasn't thinking in One Piece terms, I was thinking in back home terms. This mentality was stupid, argh, I really needed to get my act together. As soon as I realized this I felt stupid - it was so obvious.

A Devil's Fruit. Symphony had eaten a Devil's Fruit.

Although even that told me nothing about what she'd done to me - I felt fine… didn't I? Did I feel the same? Was I fine?

…Someone define 'fine' for me, please. Bah. Fine is such a stupid word. Allusive.

I don't know what Symphony had done to me - or, rather, what she had been trying to do. For all I knew, this man's interruption had been just in time to save my ass. I shook my head to myself, sighing. All this was just speculation. I didn't have a clue.

I turned back to the old man with a disappointed frown. "Sorry, I don't know what she did - I'm not even sure if she did do anything, I mean, I don't think I feel any different…" I sighed, and then gave the old guy a questioning look. "Did you see anything, Mr…?"

He rose his eyebrows - or, uh, what I could see of his eyebrows underneath that seagull-like tattoo on his forehead. "Bazyl, Mr Bazyl. All I saw was you on the ground, and that little miss with something purple in her hand. Then she ran off."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Purple?"

Mr Bazyl nodded. "Smokey-lookin'. Couldn't see what it was, exactly."

I looked to the side at nothing in particular, trying to remember something purple, but Symphony's dress had been green and her gloves had been grey. Even that flame thing that Symphony had conjured in her hand had been grey. Nothing had been purple. Unless… unless that flame thing had turned purple. But what would have caused it to change colour?

I dismissed the thought.

"So why were you in that passageway?"

Another question from the colourfully-skinned Mr Bazyl. Had I mentioned that tattoo on his arm, the one with the monster and the teeth? "I was going back to the big bakery down that way. I work there, and I've been lodging with the couple that own it."

The gingery-haired man seemed to take interest in this. "Is that so? Well, well…" he noticed my flickering gaze at his tattoo and smiled. "My wife is a jack of all trades," he let out a quiet laugh, "She trained as a tattoo-artist a long way back. Made her quite popular with the sailors. She's a wonderful artist, my wife, but not very imaginative, I'm afraid." His smile widened with pride. I couldn't help but smile too.

Suddenly the front door of the shop opened, and with a surprised murmur of "Speak of the devil!" from Mr Bazyl, the one and only Penny entered the building.

"Redge? Redge, love, are you- oh! My, my, Elmo, fancy seeing you here!" The woman paused at the door before closing it behind her and bustling over to us, her hair as frizzy as ever and her eyes sparkling the same way that they had the first time I'd met her.

Speaking of yours truly, I was gob smacked.

No, literally, my jaw was practically hitting the floor here.

Penny was this guy's wife?

…You actually learn something new everyday, I don't even-

My mind was blown.

"Elmo? Odd name." Penny had made her way to Mr Bazyl - Redge - to kiss him, but after his comment she wacked him on the head instead.

"Redge! Don't be rude! This girl here's a good one, you hear me? She's gone through rough times! Be nice to her!" Her tone was stern while she told her husband off, but I could tell that she wasn't really angry with him. I smiled wistfully. There was something about this relationship that was just… really sweet.

One big "Awwwwwww" for the happy old couple, guys.

When Penny turned back to me, I prepared myself for the typical small-talk of 'how are you's' and the like. Instead I got a falling expression and a worried "Lovey, what on earth happened to you? You look so pale - Calista told me that you were doing well, was she lying? Oh, I could strangle that girl sometimes-"

"No, really, Penny, I'm alright!" I smiled at her awkwardly (I hate it when people overreact and go off on a tangent…). "I was just…" well, what? What should I tell her? 'I was attacked by a girl who brought me to this world and for some reason hates me'? Well, no, but what? Was it even worth telling her the true story? She didn't really need to know, and Penny being Penny would probably just blow the situation out of proportion…

Redge saved me from my own dilemma. "Penny, come here a sec."

Although the saving was a bit of an odd one. Mr Bazyl turned Penny's attention from me away as he turned them both so that their backs were facing me, but from the snippets I caught from their whispering told me that their quiet conversation was still directed at yours truly.

Their whispering went on for quite a while, and somehow I could only catch one or two sentences, such as "Do you think he'd mind?"

"Nah, he's a good boy, he won't mind. Owes us favours for life, anyway."

…I couldn't help but wonder how whoever this 'He' was had managed to get himself into such a deep and dark pit of trouble that he now owed the Bazyl's favours for life so that they'd get him out of it.

I also came to the conclusion that the Bazyl's lives definitely ran on putting people in their debt so that they could get freebies. Which is something that I should have realized earlier, to be honest, what with Penny's attitude and Redge being her husband.

By the time that Penny and Redge had finished talking, I was dozing off in my chair. Penny had to shake my shoulder gently to wake me up. I stood up groggily by demand and looked up at the woman from my seat sleepily. She smiled warmly.

"Come now, love, I'll take you back to the bakery."

I followed her out of the shop, tiredly saying yes to Mr Bazyl as he told me "Come back here tomorrow morning at 8 o'clock!".

It was only once we were halfway back to the bakery, with the chilly night air biting at my skin and slowly bringing me out of my dopey sleepiness, that I realized something. "Oh, crap, I've got work tomorrow! I can't go back to the Junk Shop at eight, I'll be in the bakery…"

"No, you'll be quitting tonight. You're free to go and meet Redge tomorrow, and I suggest you do." Of course Penny carried on walking as if she was making general conversation, but I stopped in my tracks. Woah, quitting? What?

I quickly ran to catch up with the old lady. "Hang on a sec, what do you mean I'm quitting? Since when?"

Still taking everything in her stride, as if we were talking about the goddamn weather, Penny replied, "You agreed that you wouldn't be working at the bakery for a long time, so it shouldn't bother you to leave today. What's the problem?"

Despite the fact that Penny wasn't pausing in her march, I noticed that her face looked rather grave. All the same, I was annoyed. Where was my say in this? How could she expect me to allow her to just push me around, like a pawn in a game of chess? The first time, sure, she had helped me to get a job and a place to stay, but now all of a sudden she wanted me to leave it? Why? For what reason? "What's the problem?" I repeated indignantly, "The problem- just because I agreed to not work at the bakery for a long time doesn't mean I'm ready to leave it now! Why should I quit? What, because you tell me to? I'm thankful to you, Penny, I really am, but I won't quit my perfectly good job and perfectly great place to stay just because you want me to!"

"You want a good reason?" Penny stopped abruptly and turned to me, fury in her eyes. "You got attacked today, lovey, and you want to stay here? Where you can be targeted again easily?"

That quietened me down considerably, but Penny wasn't done.

"Sorry for looking out for you, love! Sorry for helping you weeks ago and wanting to help you now! I care about you-"

"Why, though?" I couldn't help but shout at her at that point. It had been bothering me ever since I'd first thought about it. "Why do you care about me?" I asked with a more level tone, staring at the ground, unable to look the woman in the eye. "More importantly, why so much? You, Calista, and now even Mr Bazyl… why are you all so intent on helping me?"

After a few moments, I heard a tutt from the woman in front of me. I looked up at her to see her giving me a sympathetic look.

"Because, miss Elmo Carol, you're a good person with a good attitude. Because we like you." she stepped forwards and brushed her thumb against my cheek fondly. "Because you're too young to be living miserably." She smiled then, and said, "Anyway, why should we have to explain ourselves to you, love? Everyone has their own reasons. Come on, it's late, we best get going, you've got a long day ahead of you tomorrow - and love, don't worry about the quitting side of things, I'll talk to Callie about it." With that she started walking again. I followed slowly, rubbing my cheek with one hand.

Oh, hell. My life was speeding by and dragging me along with it. I couldn't complain, though. Penny was right. What was I thinking, staying here any longer? It had been long enough. I had money in my savings, and, heck, getting attacked by a possibly schizophrenic girl who hated my guts was as good a reason as any.

I sighed and jogged a bit to catch up with Penny.

My life, I have no control over it.

Bahhh. I'm sorry this is so late in the day. I made the mistake of leavin this until yesterday and today to finish. My bad.

Also, I haven't proof-read it, I'm afraid, so if you could let me know if there are any mistakes I'd appreciate it.

Well, anyway. Deary me, Symphony, you have the worst temper. And some interesting gloves. Hm. Well, well. Hopefully you won't be so mean to Elmo the next time you see her, hmm? (Not likely.) For those who're interested, I've got a picture of Symphony here: http: / / .com / # / d46s4x3 (minus all the spaces) for you to... get a picture of her. It's a bit of a bad paint job, but, bluh, I couldn't be bothered with it after a while.

Anyway. I'm sorry, but I won't be able to update next week again because I've got my cousins coming over to stay from Thursday to next Monday, and so I'll be spending all my time entertaining them instead. Again, sorry. I'll try to not keep doing this, promise!