Troublesome People
A/N TIME IS 1600
It took a mix of his stomach grumbling, the persistent sunlight in his eyes, and taps on his door to wake Maria up. He yawns and stretches, preparing himself to answer the door. Despite the annoying circumstance he was in a very good mood.
" So far so good, still not dead!"
He hops off the bed and answers the door. Francine, the maid who looked like a nervous wreck, held a plate covered with a dome. The squirrelly girl nods her head and stutters out,
" I um I b-brought your favorite! It got delayed because um it's delicioso senorita!" Ignoring the cringe-worthy display I just stare at the lady.
Avoiding the awkward air as much as the poor girl can, she briskly walks over to the bed squeaking, " Okay, I'll just uhh set it down um here?"
" Sure, what is it?"
" Horchato " she says unsure, " and small fish!"
She tries to recover and flourish by lifting the dome but manages to fling it at the ceiling. " Haha silver uhh good for the bones, good for the roof?"
That made me pause but I recovered, " Thank you Francine, where can I get food? I forgot where to go."
" I forgot too miss!"
" Sure… Well, thanks."
" Um I've uh been practicing like Alfie, I can be hip and hop now! Headspin dawg" she crosses her arms and leans back too far.
" It's fine, in fact, I'm really tired, can - oh no."
Before he tells her not to, the maid attempts the headspin.
By jumping headfirst to the floor.
She moans in pain but is certainly determined. She starts on the floor and does her best Beyblade impression. Her limbs fling and rotate once but ultimately crash to the floor.
" Ow."
Maria decides to clap anyway, lest the poor girl hurts herself more. " That was cool Francine. I'll snack on this and head over soon. If you'll excuse me, I need to change."
As she gets up Francine checks her phone and exclaims, " Oh sorry I have to go!" And scurries off without looking back. Not hearing any more intruders approaching Maria walks up and locks the door.
" Okay, let's avoid her from now on. The second-hand cringe is never pleasant."
Her stomach growled in protest as if saying, ' come on she was good for something.' The dubious meal of essentially rice water and soggy fish sits on her bed leering. He approaches his doom and takes a whiff. The horchata didn't seem to smell too bad, the jasmine rice, cinnamon, and almondy smell making for something reminiscent of early fall. The sardines on the other hand looked downright evil. Slathered in oily napalm from hell and preservation from Hel herself. The smell was the worst part, fish and castor oil. The worst part of the sea assaults her nose and appetite. Poseidon's wrath from his fallen underlings burns nose hairs from a mere whiff.
Hoping for a miracle he whiffs both together. He saw death at that moment. He gags horribly and starts to see stars, the heavens call to him ' YOU ARE INEVITABLE NO MORE' they scream. But he denies, hell no Satan!
He agrees with his nose, no way is he eating that slop.
Time for option 2, he starts to search Maria's drawers for a semblance of clothes a human boy would wear. Jeans and a T-shirt. Sadly there doesn't seem to be any. Skirts, cute sweaters, blazers, crop-top shirts, and dresses line the drawers. The only semblance of normalcy to be found was the underwear.
" Where. Are. The. Normal. Clothes."
" Ah we got rid of those years ago, remember?"
" Why would I do that?" He grumbles searching the bottom shelf.
" It was a part of a dare at first, you look better in skirts anyways."
" That's stupid-"
He locked the door.
He doesn't recognize the voice.
" You've just now noticed bro? I've been here a while," the voice taunts, " Oh, and I'm gonna eat your food, shoulda come to get me first!"
He turned around to a little girl on his bed, happily sipping his drink and munching on his sardines barehanded. Stuffing just enough in her mouth to look like a chipmunk.
She had the same white and frazzled hair, eyes, and face he did. Though she lacked horns and had a honey-brown complexion.
" You look different Mi-mi!" She says, spitting out little particles of food.