prompt: accusation
—
“I did not steal a bowtie from your cat!”
“Blaine, lying gives you herpes.”
“I… no it… why would you think I stole neckwear from a small animal?”
“Lord Tubbington isn’t small, I fit my feet in his mouth one time to cure my dad’s head lice. But his tie would fit around your tiny baby neck perfectly, and you’re the only one around here who can wear one without making the whole world want to cry inside.”
“Well, thank you, I guess, but—”
“Plus no one else shares his gross taste in fabrics. I’ve vomited seventeen times during his runway shows. He doesn’t let me come anymore.”
“Why does he even own a bowtie?”
“He doesn’t anymore. You stole it. Were you not listening?”
“Why did he own one.”
“He needed it for the wedding.”
“…”
“Kate and William. He and Will are cousins, and if like a thousand people die he gets to be king. He wanted to look fancy in case that church exploded and England needed his leadership. Why are you pulling at your head? Is the tie hidden under your helmet?”
“For the twelve-hundredth time, Brittany, I’m not wearing a helmet. It’s my hair.”
“Are you sure, because when Rory danced into it that time he got a concussion.”
“Mild concussion. Look, Brittany, just come over to my house after practice and look through my tie closet. You’ll see that everything in there is made for humans. Okay?”
“Can I bring Lord Tubbington? You two would totally get along. And he’s had trouble making boy friends since he stole the mailman’s wife.”
“… fine. Just tell him not to steal anything of mine.”
“He’s on probation, anyway.”
“Great.”
IM SCREAMING. BRITTANY OMG. perfect. i loved it.
