The night was dark, the silvery stars above the house shining like fake diamonds embedded into a cheap black dress. It was a cold night. The perfect night for a movie marathon.
Jooters Blaccat emerged into the kitchen, switching the faintly yellow fluorescent lights on as he made his move to the pantry. There it sat: a box of Act II microwave popcorn bags. Joot's eyes shimmered with hunger and he moved his paws towards the box eagerly. He swiftly grabbed a bag, it's plastic wrap crinkling in his fingers as he tore it out of it's prison. He dashed over to the microwave and slammed it inside, setting the time on the strange nuclear box to two minutes and thirty seconds. As soon as the microwave began it's heating process, he ran to the cupboard and grabbed a clear glass and poured himself a glass of soda. He walked into the living room and sat there, beginning the movie as the sweet cacophony of popping kernels could be heard.
Joot was hardly out of the credit sequence when he heard it: a short, bright ding!. He reached for the remote, pausing the film and running towards the kitchen. He grabbed a large white bowl which he regularly used for his popcorn dining habits and then went to the microwave, opening it and grabbing the bag.
That's when the smell hit him: the intoxicating aroma of melted butter and salt. His mouth watered and he almost got some drool on his soft fur. He shook his head, breaking his trance, and poured the bag into the bowl. He took the bowl back into the living room, placed it next to him, and began the film. He lowered his right paw into the bowl and grabbed out a small piece. It was a perfect buttery gold cover and shined with just the right amount of salt. He raised it towards his mouth, closed his eyes and-
... What's this?
There was no feeling of buttery goodness on his tongue, no delightfully salty taste. Nothing. Instead, all he felt was a slip in his fingers. He opened his eyes only for them to widen further as he saw it. Time seemed to move in slow motion as he watched it: the kernel slip from his fingers and fall slowly. He tried to catch it, but it was too late. It hit the carpet soundlessly and Joot felt himself fall too. He landed on his knees as he looked at it in defeat. He felt tears begin to form in his eyes as he looked down at his wasted efforts. He looked up towards the sky and shouted.
"NOOOOOOOO!!!"
What cruel god would subject him to such pain? Such misfortune? Who would dare desire such a man's downfall? Was it fate? Or karma for a previous life's transgressions?
He slowly lifted himself from the floor and sat back on the couch, a look of defeat on his face as he reached for another.
Jooters Blaccat emerged into the kitchen, switching the faintly yellow fluorescent lights on as he made his move to the pantry. There it sat: a box of Act II microwave popcorn bags. Joot's eyes shimmered with hunger and he moved his paws towards the box eagerly. He swiftly grabbed a bag, it's plastic wrap crinkling in his fingers as he tore it out of it's prison. He dashed over to the microwave and slammed it inside, setting the time on the strange nuclear box to two minutes and thirty seconds. As soon as the microwave began it's heating process, he ran to the cupboard and grabbed a clear glass and poured himself a glass of soda. He walked into the living room and sat there, beginning the movie as the sweet cacophony of popping kernels could be heard.
Joot was hardly out of the credit sequence when he heard it: a short, bright ding!. He reached for the remote, pausing the film and running towards the kitchen. He grabbed a large white bowl which he regularly used for his popcorn dining habits and then went to the microwave, opening it and grabbing the bag.
That's when the smell hit him: the intoxicating aroma of melted butter and salt. His mouth watered and he almost got some drool on his soft fur. He shook his head, breaking his trance, and poured the bag into the bowl. He took the bowl back into the living room, placed it next to him, and began the film. He lowered his right paw into the bowl and grabbed out a small piece. It was a perfect buttery gold cover and shined with just the right amount of salt. He raised it towards his mouth, closed his eyes and-
... What's this?
There was no feeling of buttery goodness on his tongue, no delightfully salty taste. Nothing. Instead, all he felt was a slip in his fingers. He opened his eyes only for them to widen further as he saw it. Time seemed to move in slow motion as he watched it: the kernel slip from his fingers and fall slowly. He tried to catch it, but it was too late. It hit the carpet soundlessly and Joot felt himself fall too. He landed on his knees as he looked at it in defeat. He felt tears begin to form in his eyes as he looked down at his wasted efforts. He looked up towards the sky and shouted.
"NOOOOOOOO!!!"
What cruel god would subject him to such pain? Such misfortune? Who would dare desire such a man's downfall? Was it fate? Or karma for a previous life's transgressions?
He slowly lifted himself from the floor and sat back on the couch, a look of defeat on his face as he reached for another.
You are on: Forums » Art & Creativity » Butterfingers - A Short Tragedy
Moderators: Keke, Cass, Claine, Sanne, Ilmarinen, Darth_Angelus