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She rubbed her crusty eyelids, fumbled till she smacked the smirking frog on the toothbrush holder and saw the tiny toddler brush peeking between Big Byte’s motorized machine and her mangled, yellowing bristles. It wasn’t until the omniprescent tapworks began to distort her vision that she realized those blasted hormones were at it again.

NP: *yelling at shabby figure in mirror* “The fuckin’ sun’s not even out dammit!”,
Mirror NP: *strangely awake* “The sun never quite steps out, ya know. It’s just the relative position of the earth that counts”
NP: “wtf?”
Mirror NP: “Ok Miss Half Empty, it’s like the darkness. It’s always there, interrupted by a warm glow every day”
NP: “Not so in winter. Can’t remember the last time I saw our toasty friend”
Mirror NP: “Can’t remember the last time you stepped out.”
NP: *spits fluoridated froth emphatically back at the sink*
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As Nibbles hovered around her, blissfully blowing strawberry-pink bubbles, she decided that she was done croaking “Please Forgive Me” a la Bryan Adams (did I just type that in public?) and grated a generous block of ginger into the simmering water to tame the itch. Little did she know that she’d forgotten to stock up milk, which would result in an immediate meltdown at the prospect of having to brave the day in a chai-less daze.

It’s a good thing Nibbles responded to the drama with a crash – pink, Vitamin D milk all over the floor that she struggled to mop up before he lapped it up. She wagged a well-chewed finger at him menacingly and he puffed his cheeks as he pointed a drool-coated finger right back at her. Then they did the sticky kitchen dance and celebrated with biscuits for breakfast. After all, they decided, no point crying over…

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