She stepped on Pallas' tail, and the dog leapt up with a yelp. "Sorry, girl," Fay said. That dog never learned. She set the box on the kitchen floor and looked inside.
More junk. Of course. Nothing they had ever missed in twelve years. Nothing that Morton had asked for when he left. Just a bunch of junk, mostly broken.
Well, those old ping-pong paddles looked salvageable. They hadn't used them since Morton broke the table, but they were in fine condition, albeit incredibly dusty. She dumped them into the pail of water and wiped them off a few times, then set them on a towel.
Underneath those was what looked like an old hunk of wood. She pulled it out, and remembered what it was. That stupid pillory that Morton had picked up from that souvenir shop, that had ripped a big hole in the painting she had bought. And then he'd just tossed it up in the attic, and they never saw it again. Maybe somebody would buy it here. She wiped it off with the rag.
Pallas lay on the floor watching her, tongue hanging out of her mouth. Stupid dog, she thought. Morton wouldn't even take her when he left. What the hell am I going to do with her?
One more thing left in the box. A tube of palm lotion. Right--they'd found out it was toxic, and never used it.
An idea came to her. With a grin, she tossed it to Pallas. "Eat it up, doggie," she said. Pallas chewed on the tube gladly.
<Curtis Yarvin gave me the assignment
with the following conditions:
one of the above objects must be destroyed; two must become dripping wet.>
you have 300 words.
note that palm lotion is already dripping wet.
And now, back to The Four-Word Story Page.
The Den of Ubiquity / Aaron V. Humphrey / email@example.com