"BrightHeart Raccoon, what IS that?"
He smiled at Britt, then swirled the blue clouds of whipped topping
around. "It's a Cloud Sundae," he pronounced proudly.
She and Mike exchanged a glance, and he stopped eating his Blizzard
long enough to say, "A what?"
"My favorite treat, a Cloud Sundae. Oh, we made them all the time in
Care-A-Lot. It's got sweetened cloud, along with a touch of a cool
breeze, and even some Northern snow for kick."
"I see," Brittany replied, then turned back to sipping her Chocolate
Blast--extra whip cream, of course.
The campfire blazed again; it had been a few days, a few nights, who
cared, it was just TIME since the argument on the beach. Since then,
they'd slowly adjusted to the fact that this was home, and had made
provisions accordingly. Brittany had started to stock her back room
with herbs she found and identified, and was already experienting with
them; Brighty and Jared had toyed around in his shop. Mike was learning
to relax, kick off his shoes, sleep late and not worry about car
payments.
"Listen up, people," Jared called, hiding his small, plastic bag. "I
have a speech to make!"
"A speech?" Britt asked, incredulous.
"Jared, this is the Island, not wherever in New Hampshire," Mike said,
swirling the ice cream.
"I can make a speech if I want to," he protested, and they all fell
silent. Rising, he began.
"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for my behavior. I was influenced
by the Guardian..."
"Likely story," Mike muttered.
"I believe it," Britt whispered back.
"..and I hope you understand that I wasn't quite myself," he pushed on,
oblivious to the peanut gallery. "I also wanted to say that I'm glad to
be stuck on the Island with you three. I can think easily of three
other people I'd LIKE here, but I doubt I could stand THEM for eternity.
You three, however, are easy on the mind, spirit, and soul, and there's
no others that I'd actually prefer here with me than my friends."
"Bravo!" Mike called. "Golf claps all around!"
Britt pittered, Brighty pattered, and Jared bowed. Now, Brighty stood.
"I just want to say that I believe everything Jared says, and even
though I'm going to miss Care-A-Lot fiercly, I think my new home may
soon be even better than my old home," he said, a gentle glow from his
tummy.
Mike wiped a fake tear, Jared "AWWWW"ed, and Brittany stood.
"I didn't go last!" she exclaimed, and they politely clapped. "Well,
as I don't have anything prepared, I may ramble. But anyways, even
though I'm the odd sex out here, I feel comfortable with you guys. This
is my only warning, though: If I catch any of you trying on my
underwear....or peeking at me in the shower....or setting up a trap for
me to change in...I will eviscarate you." She sat down to light
applause and one whistle.
"You don't wear silk panties, do you?" Jared asked.
"Occasionally," she replied.
He gave her puppy eyes, and whined, and she smacked him on the shoulder
and told him to shutup.
"I myself prefer the cotten ones," Mike said, his hand conspiciously
bent and his voice a tad whispy.
"Oh no, cotten chafes," Jared replied matter-of-factly.
"I don't wear clothes anyway," Brighty reassured her.
Finally, after some conspiciously stereotypical homosexual banter, Mike
stood. "I just wanted to say," he started, "that I'm glad to have you,
my friends, here. I can't think of anyone else who I don't want dead
who I'd rather have here then you all."
A conspicious silence before Brighty broke out, "I love you, too,
Mike."
Jared and Brittany busted up laughing; Mike ruffled the raccoon's head,
and he giggled girlishly. Suddenly, he asked, "Jared, are those
cookies?"
"Uh-hum," Jared replied, crunching a bite.
"What kind?"
Jared chewed a little more, took another bite, chewed a little more,
took another bite--eventually eating a whole cookie--and chewed a little
more. Then, standing, he hurled a huge glob of black spit at the
raccoon, which struck in the sand at Brighty's feet. With a boyish,
infectious grin, he cheerfully announced, "CHOCOLATE...CHIP!"
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