Hunting the Fairy Tale

Chapter 55 - Cussing 101

Molly

"Molly, Honey, could you get the door, Love? I'm just stepping out of the shower!"

Great, and I'm looking like a colourful version of the bride of Frankenstein's monster with my hair standing up around my head in fountains and cascades, turning me into the Olympic flame.

I'm wearing my school blouse and pyjama pants covered in colourful butterflies and cows. It's not the best look for opening the door, but I think Ronan is breaking his own record in annoyance, using our doorbell.

"Hey! Ro! Seriously, would you like the doorbell shoved up your butt?" I ask, yanking the door open.

"Not particularly, but I've kinda started to figure out that you've got a kinky streak, so I'll give it a shot if you really want me to."

It's not Ronan! Alien, putting his doggie bum on my fake-feet slippers, also seems to be surprised about that. It's hard to tell because his eyes are always bug-like, and his tongue is always lolling around halfway out of his mouth.

"What? How? Where?" I'm, of course, referring to the reason for Tanner Trent being at my door, and the day hasn't even begun yet. How did he even know where my door was? Yeah, he's been here many times, usually coming and going from Candy's window, unless he's here to see Ro... Noooo, he probably still uses the window then. I don't think he knew I lived next door to Ronan, though... did he? I doubt he would've noticed.

Blooming Ronan!

"How the hell should I know the details of how that's supposed to work? You're the one with the doorbell-butt fetish." He frees himself from the strap of a small cooler bag he's carrying dangling at his hip and holds it in the air for me to see. "Your mom's soup."

He really made my mother some soup?! I thought he was just saying stuff. That is actually really sweet!

Tanner is not sweet!

"Well, hurry up, I have to get to school and intercept my big cooler bag from Hunter, or he'll snort the contents of all the containers before lunch break."

I remember Tanner saying something on the phone about spending the night at Hunter's last night, but I'm not really sure what he is on about now. I'm really happy about the soup, though; my mother has been raving about Tanner's cooking since I risked life and limb to retrieve the lunchbox from the cabinets for her when she got home around 5:30 this morning.

The joy of her receiving this soup lulls me enough to lower my guard and open the door wider to take the cooler bag from him, which I do. His hands now empty, Tanner bends over and scoops up the dog, who is way too happy to see him. He is a lurking stranger, after all; the hairball is supposed to protect me, not ecstatically drizzle pee and drool everywhere.

"Whoa!" Tanner yelps, jumping back when he sees the feet Alien was sitting on. "Shit, for a second there, I thought you were in serious need of a pedicure!" he laughs.

That is not an unusual reaction to the slippers my dear loving mother bought me as a joke. They're hideous! They look like feet with crooked toes and rotten nails, but they are so nice and snuggly and warm on the inside that I am happy to ignore their outsides. These slippers could teach people many lessons about inner beauty, but they won't because they're lazy, and they've got my feet stuffed inside them whenever I'm home.

"Careful, he's gonna pee on you," I warn Tanner, but he seems unconcerned, cradling the pug in the crook of his arm as if he were a baby. Well, there's a fair amount of dog urine on our threshold now, so Tanner is probably safe.

"You should rather piss on those ugly feet, yeah, you should, you know you should, you should piss on those feet," he croons at the dog and tickles his fat belly. Hearing Tanner talking like an old maid cooing to her mongrel is possibly the most disturbing thing I've heard in years.