The Cinderella Agreement (Completed) [Featured Story]

22: The PPP (1)

*This chapter contains images for portraying the texts (which are fundamental in the plot buildup) so please make sure you are connected to the Internet when reading. :)

Also this chapter was so looooooong, at first, like 4000 words, so I chopped it in two :). The next part will be available in the next update (Sunday?)

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"So, according to this form, you say you have a pet dragon?" The registrar lady raised an unimpressed brow at Mit, stabbing the butt of her pen against the filled out sheet of paper on her desk. 

"Yes, Miss." Mit nodded earnestly. Sam hid his reddening face behind his coat in embarrassment.

The registrar massaged her temples tiredly. "Tell me one thing: do I look stupid to you?"

"Well, intellectual capability can't be measured by the physical outlook, so—" Sam quickly nudged her in the side—"I mean, no, Miss."

The woman's dark brown eyes peered at them from behind her spectacles. She pointed the pen at Mit. "Can I see your 'dragon', then?" 

"Sure!" Mit bent to pick up the pet carrier that she'd put Edward in that morning. "Careful, though! He breathes fire!"

Edward yawned languidly, looking positively bored.

"That is a dog!"

"Listen," Mit said calmly, placing a hand on the carrier's top. "He's a dragon. He's just very, very rare. The only living, breathing dragon with the head of a dog and the body of a dog. That doesn't make him a dog, Miss. Don't hurt his feelings, please."

The woman raised a disconcerted brow, before closing shut her 'PARTICIPANTS' record book and fixing a wary look on Mit. "Listen, this is a pug. A perfectly normal looking pug, which does not fit the criteria of 'Peculiar'. But," she began again just as Mit opened her mouth to defend herself, "since you've already paid I'll just let you guys in as visitors. As in, you're not allowed to enter your dog into any of the contests or activities. Understood?"

"Got it," Mit complied. She didn't mind if Edward couldn't be a 'participant.' It wasn't like the dog wasn't lazy enough to only be capable of running round in tiny circles, chasing his own tail. He wouldn't even have had a shot any other way. As long as she could still get to meet up with Marshall, she was satisfied.

The registrar handed them stamps and let them through the turnstile, Sam going first and Mit seconding (although taking a longer time as the contraption pushed her butt forward in a circular arch of direction, trapping her for another round of turning).

The Peculiar Pet Picnic seemed more like a fair than a picnic in all honesty, with a handful of rides that posed as the nightmare to every acrophobic, several colorful stands and booths busy with their own activity, and about 70% of the food seen being eaten on sticks.