So Late

Time to write!

As per usual it's too late to really write something cohesive. So here goes five minutes of nonsense. Enjoy. :)

Penniworth McGillicutty lived in a small house with green shutters and a yellow front door. He wanted to one day paint his porch red, but who really has time for that kind of nonsense, and besides, he knew his mother wouldn't like it.

Penniworth was seven years old. His mother had named him Penniworth only moments after giving birth, and though many assumed she just hadn't thought the name through, she thought it fit the boy very well. He was small for his age, skinny but with a round face, and big eyes which his mother thought made him look intelligent. It actually made him look more bovine, but such a look is acceptable on seven year old boys with darling hair cuts and corduroy overalls.

Jerome and Stanley were Penniworth's best friends. Jerome lived across the street and one house to the right. That's what Penniworth's mom liked to call "diagonal". Stanley lived over five minutes away, in a big house in a cul-de-sac. That's what Penniworth liked to call "too far away". If he wasn't allowed to ride on his tricycle there, then it was automatically too far away in Penniworth's book.

Daddy was away lots, for his military job. Penniworth missed him greatly, and drew him pictures. Sometimes he'd draw pictures of what happened during the week, and sometimes he'd draw pictures of what he wished had happened during the week. Once he drew a picture of himself riding a dinosaur. The dinosaur was also eating his little sister, but Penniworth added that quick before it got mailed off. He was smart enough to know that Mama wouldn't like that very well.

Emma, Penniworth's baby sister, was actually one of Penniworth's favorite people. He wasn't a malicious child. It was just that Mama had been on the phone for hours that particular afternoon and he'd been stuck watching her. Then she'd made what Mama called "a stinky" and what Daddy called "a big one" and what Penniworth called "just plain gross", and on top of that she'd cried about it. Loudly. If anyone deserved to cry about it, it was Penniworth. So any other day Penniworth would have hated it if his imaginary pet dinosaur Rolo had eaten Emma, but just then it seemed like what Daddy would call "a fine notion, son".