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Cicada Days
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keep running yoshi
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Everything was still really super loud. All she could hear of the outside world was the warbling motion of lips she dazedly stared at.

Meanwhile back then, like a minute ago. The sound of beach surf had been pouring bubbly over sandstone and lime. What had it been? Some arbitrary amount of w’s and h’s. She’d forgotten that she’d had an extra ‘w’, an extra ‘h’ at hand. Literally, her hands. And a weapon, fingers non indicatively trembling as she’d stuffed some kind of mini traffic cone into the big slot on top of the gun. It had been a perfect fit, somehow that had seemed rewardingly pleasant. Like a job well done, a pat on the back, and a game of League to unwind after a long day.

And then she’d done everything else. The dancing, the tisk-ing, the genius-ing, the walking. The shooting.

With twenty something hindsight loading a fake gun and firing it was one of those things she shouldn’t have done or allowed herself to have thought of getting done but she had ultimately done because, well. She was Irene. And Jeremy was Jeremy, Danny was Danny. When their lips moved all she assumed she heard were the things they usually liked to say. Jeremy would say something annoyingly true and Danny would say something annoyingly seductive. Only part that seemed off was that she’d never been deafened like this she’d post something stupid. Some close calls with screaming teachers, maybe. But no, the mushy, squishy, ‘when did I jump into a pool in the last five seconds?’ feels here were alien. But like any other consequence it at least had the decency to go away fast when Irene decided she didn’t like it.

“... You okay?” Where had the rest of what he’d said gone? Had he even said anything else? The noise only seemed to come in at a trickle, like Irene had been turning up that bass, etc.

“I mean yeah, totes.” She rose up, with his hand, in spite of it, either way. Almost immediately there was a spring in her step. The tresses of her ponytail flippantly bounced behind her as she began to chase down whatever was left of the thing she’d just shot.

“Surprised a shotty blank could sound that loud.” Wait that was a shotgun she’d fired, right? Hell if Irene knew anymore about guns than she needed to to insist ‘blanket ban them and chase the NRA out of the country’ to any friend that would listen. Envision the dusty old rifles and bayonets just sitting there, snuggly tucked into blankets and cots. “I mean I get it though, you have to pour a lot of extra effort into really selling it. Sure they’ve left a ton of holes in the premise alone, but at least the mechanics were on point.” Each syllable was truncated with a brisk slap of her soles. She knelt into the scarring her gun had left on the earth and began to dig. Had to find the evidence that would have ‘em all saying ‘and I would have gotten away with if it wasn’t for you meddling kids!’. It was just a few fingertips away.

“So it’s probably not a Cochise kid, or they were just plants or something. Literally plants, the way some of ‘em-...” Her fingers closed over metal. Little pellets. Stung like nettles against the skin.

You know.

If that seagull had still been there, Irene suddenly realized it would have been gone. On the molecular level. The swollen bruise on her breast she only now felt the dull throb of said everything else that didn’t really need to be said.


Irene glanced back, her neck swiveling so fast she was looking at them before she saw them.

Danny looked like he’d seen a ghost. Had a hand on that thing on his neck. Irene suddenly felt something pressing a bit insistently on her own paper mache collar bones. And Jeremy had that look in his eyes that people liked to have when Irene had done something she’d later regret. Like a smile, but they weren’t just up and putting it on their face where it belonged. For some whatever reason. Her eyebrow furrowed, her lips began to bulb into a pout.

She needed to hear something.

“Yo,” the princess commanded rather impetuously. Her golden curls had set themselves into a singular mass, unmoved by the ever prevailing breeze rushing by. “Jeremy, say something smart. Danny, say something cute.”
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I Say You Kill Your Heroes And Fly, Fly, Baby Don't Cry · The Cove