As talk of the old days happens, there is a twinkling of dust… and a voice like a tiny bell singing a tune from the old days…
"Monday, Monday…
Some thing to me…
Monday something…
Something or something could be…"
Despite the song repeating their name many times, Monday never did care to memorize the lyrics. They are having an especially hard time on this particular morning, for they are distracted.
Something is not right, they contemplate as they hum the rest of the verse,
or rather… someone is not right…
Or is it someseven or someeight or somewhat?
They appear before the ladies, a little person whose pantsuit is as grand as their butterfly wings! They sing out the first lines of the next verse, which they’d partly memorized when the tune was young and their tiny face no more youthful then as it is now—
"Monday, Monday…
Can’t trust that day…
Monday, Monday…
Somewhat it something that way…"
Their grin does not falter as they blow the line and end the tune abruptly. For they are pleased, oh so pleased, by the presence!
The presence of
hearts! Seven- or eight- or what-too-many!
But not one to put their eggs in one basket, even when said basket is equivalent to seven or eight or what, they greet their fellow guests.
"Good Morning, dear ladies," they say as they perch upon the armrest of Lady Sheridan‘s wheelchair, pausing to admire her ring with a gemstone the size a fairy’s head! The little fey’s voice projects confidently.
"And it most certainly is a lovely morning, for I am in the presence of greatness.
"My apologies if my singing was not up to par, for my mind is in many places at once due to the constant spinning of my wheels. Perhaps I should pass that on to one who could benefit."OOC:
BINGO: Perform a fairy miracle…
Golden glitter emanates from the fairy’s perch. The glitter trickles to one wheel on Lady Sheridan’s chair, then rainbowily arcs overhead to the other. Both wheels glow a pulsating pink, an orderly orange, a vivid violet and an alliterationless amber! They spin regardless of the chair’s movement, for Monday has passed Spinning One’s Wheels along to Lady Sheridan’s chair.
The chair will, from now until next Monday, obey Lady Sheridan’s will. If she wills it forward, forward it takes her. If she wills it to turn or reverse, it does so. If she wills it to up, it levitates to accommodate her will. If the chair can’t fit through a door, it narrows, and as for those insensitive stairwells… levitation has already covered this.
If Yola Oleander insists on gripping the handlebars, she should find it pleasant to be kited along, Monday suspects.
Last edited May 2, 2024 10:39 am