Safe harbour || CLOSED
@ruutledge
Humming to yourself, you slide around in your socks in a mock form of dance while you make a sandwich, putting all kinds of things on it-- pickles, tomatoes, celery, cheese, bologna, some bits of turkey bacon someone left in the fridge...
Oh, but where’s the mayonnaise?
Pursing your lips, you dig around in the fridge with a puzzled expression. Nope, not there. Kneeling down, you dig in the lower half of the pantry-- oh no, is the base out of it? It’s hardly an issue, but it certainly is a tragedy! About to admit defeat, you sit back so that you can get off the ground, only to spot a jar of mayonnaise atop the fridge out of the very topmost edge of your visor’s corrective sight. But, even as you grin in victory, it isn’t meant to last, because no matter how high you try to reach, you’re just too small to reach anywhere near it.
Sighing in defeat, you brush a few long dreads behind your shoulder, frowning at the situation at hand. You can’t climb up on anything in this pair of legs-- you can in your combat ones, but you aren’t going through that just for a sandwich!
About to admit surrender, you hear heavy footsteps coming down the stairs, and upon turning, your features light up. “It’s the Hog-man! What’s up, dude?”
