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update from sparkleup

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Madison Scott-Clary 2021-06-08 21:30:10 -07:00
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writing/sawtooth/monkey-and-bear.md
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@ -55,11 +55,11 @@ And let's just suppose they managed it. Let's just picture what that looks like.
But still, they had got to earn their keep, hadn't they? That's what Sim said, would say at the drop of a hat, at the drop of a haul, every time they hopped in the van after a heist or holdup. He'd promise her late at night, and maybe he'd even call out to her across a gas station or over the hood of some poor sop's car as the fox or cat or whatever shrieked and threw coins at her feet and recoiled in terror.
So Ursula kept up her routine, still doing her runs in the morning and hauling some rocks round here and there just to keep those shoulders from getting too soft and brushing her fur out in the evenings. Still crunching on those carrots we all know she loves and buying cans of beets --- pale imitations of those in her dreams --- to go with cheap chuck so she can cook up a stew on the tailgate of the van, just past the end of their mattress. Still letting Sim push her down onto that very same mattress after every job, cause we all know the ferret's gotta jump every opportunity he gets and the jobs, they make him jumpy, and maybe she makes a sound or maybe not, cause we also know how taciturn our Ursula is, quiet to her core, and we'll never know her thoughts as he hunches and curls above her because Sim hasn't the time to listen after making, he promises himself, love to her, he's too busy jumping.
So with the courage of the sun or the moon or a kite jerking tight at its tether, Ursula kept up her routine, still doing her runs in the morning and hauling some big old rocks round here and there just to keep those shoulders from getting too soft and brushing her fur out in the evenings. Still crunching on those carrots we all know she loves and buying cans of beets --- pale imitations of those in her dreams --- to go with cheap chuck so she can cook up a stew on the tailgate of the van, just past the end of their mattress. Still letting Sim push her down onto that very same mattress after every job, cause we all know the ferret's gotta jump every opportunity he gets and the jobs, they make him jumpy, and maybe she makes a sound or maybe not, cause we also know how taciturn our Ursula is, quiet to her core, and we'll never know her thoughts as he hunches and curls above her because Sim hasn't the time to listen after making, he promises himself, love to her, he's too busy jumping.
All we know, all we know of course, all poor Sim knows is that our Ursula's heart beats faster.
And all those parts we all heard before in the papers and the gossip and the chatter cause they caught old Sim, poor fella, caught him in the end, but the rest, of course, we really, truly know.
And all these parts we all heard before in the papers and the gossip and the chatter cause they caught old Sim, poor fella, caught him in the end, but the rest, of course, only we really, truly know.
Sim, too busy jumping, never kept the batteries in the flashlight charged, so it's a damn weak light that bobs and bounces its way up the dirt trail from where they'd made their camp however many days or weeks or months later, that camp an hour or so outside of Sawtooth, and it's not bobbing from his endless dancing now.