Dedication to the Craft
Summary - Paintbrush and Silver Spoon argue over who gets to serve as writer for the day’s challenge.
Word Count - 1250
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“Hand it over!”
“Never! You and your tacky mane will have to scrawl out your drivel elsewhere!” Silver Spoon cried, maintaining his grip on the typewriter currently being subjected to an unfriendly game of tug-of-war between himself and Paintbrush.
Both were contestants on the third season of Inanimate Insanity, and were currently on the same team, despite how the unfolding scene may have appeared to anyone on the outside.
The current challenge was to create a cartoon, and after Silver Spoon had laid claim to Paintbrush’s second choice of role, Test Tube, serving as the team’s director, had appointed the pair as co-writers. Needless to say, neither was taking the decision particularly well.
“Tacky?!” Paintbrush took a moment to collect themself before responding, as to not let their anger get the better of them. “You want to see tacky, Silver? I’ll show you tacky.”
Paintbrush raised the typewriter slightly higher up into the air, before releasing their hold on it entirely.
Silver Spoon, still pulling on the object with all of his might, was sent flying backwards. He landed on his back, his arms flying up into the air, as the typewriter was flung onto the nearby ground.
A satisfied smirk on their face, Paintbrush began to saunter in the direction of the discarded machine. As they passed near Silver Spoon, however, the utensil raised himself up onto his elbows.
“Oh, no you don’t!”
In one swift motion, Silver Spoon stuck out his arm, effectively tripping Paintbrush, who fell to their knees.
Silver quickly rose, moving in the direction of the typewriter. Paintbrush was also quick to respond, gripping Silver’s arm and using his momentum to hoist themself back up.
The two sprang forward, grabbing hold of the typewriter at the same time.
Paintbrush then let out a small gasp, their gaze fixated on something just behind Silver Spoon.
“Silver! The reporters! They’re here!”
Silver Spoon scoffed. “Like I’m going to fall for something like that.”
…
A moment passed. Silver grew visibly more antsy by the second. His hands began to shake, the anxiety overwhelming him, before he finally gave in.
Silver spun around, rapidly scanning the island environment for any signs of life.
“Where?! Where are they?!”
Instead of a reply, Silver felt the typewriter be ripped from his grasp, followed by the sound of footsteps quickly retreating in the opposite direction.
Oh, that little…
Once they had put enough distance between themself and their co-writer, Paintbrush leisurely strolled over to the wooden desk standing in the middle of the grass. They placed the typewriter down on the flat surface, gingerly starting to press down on its keys.
Face slightly heated, Silver stomped back over. He watched Paintbrush from a distance, pondering what his next move should be.
Observing each key being pressed, Silver was suddenly struck with an idea. A smirk spread across his face as he slowly crept up behind Paintbrush.
Paintbrush sighed. “I know you’re there, Silver. Try anything, and I’ll report you for sabotaging our team.”
“Me? Sabotage?” Silver replied from much closer behind than Paintbrush expected. “Perish the thought!”
Hovering his hands just below Paintbrush’s outstretched arms, Silver Spoon began to rhythmically wiggle his fingers. Slowly, he raised his hands up, holding them steady once he had made contact with Paintbrush.
Paintbrush tensed the second they felt Silver’s fingers fluttering under their arms.
Surely he wasn’t… oh, he totally was.
Paintbrush held steady, continuing to type out the script. They were careful not to react, as there was no way they were about to give Silver the satisfaction of a response.
“My, your hands have grown shaky.” Silver Spoon purred from behind. “You best back away from the typewriter, my dear. Let me take over.”
“How about you get lost.” Paintbrush hissed through gritted teeth.
“Now, now. There is no need for such rhetoric.” Silver Spoon sped up his fingers, grinning. “You should really lighten up.”
Paintbrush stomped one foot. It was growing increasingly difficult to stifle the sounds that Silver was threatening to draw from them. They had to hold out, however, or else they may not get another chance to work on the script.
When Silver suddenly withdrew his hands, Paintbrush let out a small sigh of relief. Hopefully he had given up.
That thought was short-lived, however, as not a moment later, Paintbrush felt fingers spidering their way down the length of their sides.
Paintbrush bit their lip to stop the giggles that now bubbled up inside from surfacing. Their hands simply hovered over the keys, as it became more difficult to maintain their focus on typing.
“Something the matter? You seemed quite eager to write out the script on your lonesome.”
Silver Spoon’s infernal commentary permeated Paintbrush’s mind. If his actions didn’t end up breaking them, then his words definitely would.
“I- hnrk, I’m gonna- mmph!”
“Use your words, my dear. I can’t understand you like that.”
Paintbrush opened their mouth to further protest, but just as they did, Silver quickly skittered across their abdomen, returning to spider down their sides a moment later.
The action was enough to break the dam. Paintbrush jolted forward, giggles beginning to spill from their mouth.
“AHah-! Sihilver! Gehet ohoff!”
“And, just like that, the stoic have fallen.”
Paintbrush gripped Silver’s wrists in an attempt to remove his hands, but Silver wouldn’t budge.
“I sahaid geheHEt ohoff!”
“Not until you step away and let the professionals do their work.”
“Noho!”
“Then you best get comfy~”
A few minutes passed by as the two remained locked in their unorthodox battle for control. Silver, seeing that Paintbrush was clearly unwilling to give in, scanned over their form, his eyes coming to settle on their blond nest of bristles.
Silver Spoon pulled his hands back and out from Paintbrush’s grasp. Paintbrush leaned on the desk in front of them for support, regaining their breath.
“... Give up yet?” They questioned, remaining defiant in face of their winded state.
Instead of receiving a response, Paintbrush was suddenly seized in a headlock, with Silver pressing them up against his chest.
“Not quite.”
Silver’s free hand travelled up to Paintbrush’s bristles, where it began gently scratching at the material.
The response was instantaneous. Paintbrush burst into laughter, thrashing against Silver’s hold.
“NAHAHA! NAHAT THEHEHRE!”
“Not here?” Silver Spoon echoed. “But my dear, this is the best response I’ve received thus far.”
“PLEHEASE! IHI’LL- AHAHA!”
“You’ll…?”
“LEHET YOU WRIHITE!”
“Are you sure?” Silver inquired, continuing to carefully scratch at the bristles. “I wouldn’t want to intrude on your solo career.”
“YEHES! JUST-HAHA! STAHAP!”
“As you wish.” Silver Spoon stilled his fingers, releasing Paintbrush from his grasp.
Paintbrush toppled forward, about to fall to the floor, before Silver intercepted.
“Ah, careful now.” He steadied Paintbrush, who was still slightly dazed, before guiding them to stand off to the side.
Silver then stepped up to the typewriter, cracking his knuckles as he eyed the script.
“Thank you for your cooperation.”
Residual giggles emanated from Paintbrush as they worked to fully clear their head. “Yohou… you’re cruhuel.”
“Cruel? No, no. I simply do what’s necessary to get what I want.”
“Tch, right.” Paintbrush crossed their arms in a huff.
“Although… if you do have any suggestions for the script, my email is open.”
Paintbrush grumbled. “Whatever.”
As they stalked off to collect their ideas to send to Silver, Paintbrush figured that one thing was for certain.
As long as Silver Spoon was around, this was going to be a long season.
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