Title: Smurfette's Not-So-Smurfy Saturday
Author: Mad Hatter, L. Carol
Word Count: 583
Rating: G
Summary: Smurfette has two Papas.

Every Saturday, Smurfette closes up her flower shop before noon and packs a picnic lunch. If anysmurf asked, she'd say she was going for a walk on the forest because it was such a beautiful smurfy day. No smurf ever does ask where exactly she's going, they just simply wave and wish her a good afternoon as she passes them. Smurfette smiles back and sometimes stops to chat with Brainy Smurf or politely declines a 'gift' from Jokey Smurf before continuing into the forest.

As she skips along, she admires the flowers that line the stream and often pauses to tuck a fresh daisy into her long blonde hair. Smurfette loves having the scent of flowers around her, and daisies match her white dress so nicely. Smurfette doesn't stop long by the stream, skipping deeper and deeper into the forest.

Sometimes Wild Smurf is playing with the forest animals, but more often its only Smurfette and her little smurf basket skipping along the forest path and she likes it that way.

After all, the further she gets from Smurf Village, the harder it would be to explain why she wasn't skipping to the nice smurfy meadow for her picnic and instead towards Gargamel's crumbling castle.

Smurfette doesn't think the other smurfs would understand. It's not that Smurfette is a bad smurf, it's just she's different from her fellow smurfs. Papa Smurf took her in, and she loves the Smurf Village and everysmurf in it dearly, but Gargamel is her papa too and she worries about him.

The poor man just doesn't take care of himself properly.

Azrael is a good cat—well, good for Gargamel and not for Smurfs—and sometimes Scruple would drop by for a while, but they really weren't enough for the lonely, elderly wizard.

So once a week Smurfette would come by to help her poor Papa Gargamel. She'd pet Azrael and give him some catnip from her basket so he would stay out of her way when she worked. She'd darn Gargamel's socks and fix the sewing on his patches—Gargamel was so sloppy in his stitches—and she'd make sure he had enough to eat during the week. He was always so skinny! It just wasn't healthy in Smurfette's opinion. There wasn't much she could do about the firewood, being so small, but she did her best to drag a few sticks over anyways.

Then Smurfette would nag Gargamel down from his lab and to dinner; him eating the stew she'd made and her eating from her smurfy picnic. She sat on a book on the table and listened as he complained about his many aches and pains and she listened to his little rants about smurfkind. She chatted in turn about life in Smurf Village— just about little everyday things, trying to make him smile and discreetly spooning a second helping into his bowl.

By the time dinner is finished, and the dishes washed, the sun is setting and its time for Smurfette to go home. Smurfette gives Gargamel a kiss on the cheek and tells him to stay out of trouble, which he always grumbles about, but he politely opens the front door for her. He never tries to follow her back to the village or to keep her captive after their dinner.

As Smurfette skips home, empty basket in hand, daisy wilting in her hair, she is sure that Gargamel enjoyed their Saturdays together, even through he would rather eat rocks than admit it.