affame_le_geant_twinkletoes fyn gula the madrill, certain that thora's back was turned and she was busily checking the blooms of a recent shipment of birds of paradise, opened the shoulderbag. the stench hit her like someone was whacking her with a brick. it stung her eyes it was so bad. however, the good news was puppertwinkle's flesh had not discoloured. delivering it to proina in pristine condition is what she was contracted for and she vowed to do as promised. her fine reputation was at stake. she would make her call and be on her way to the kingdom of broken glass according to plans, but the stupid accident with her hand was causing a major delay. as she pulled the alcance del mundo out of the bag, for she wasn't sure if she should leave it behind, she shoved it quickly into the pocket of her wool coat, zipped the bag back up, and tried to act like she was interested in thora's work. "where did you get those amazing flowers?" she asked. she looked down at her bandaged hand. it was soaked clean through, nearly to the point of dripping. it made the madrill queasy in her stomach and somewhat light-headed. "oh, montefiore. i know a grower there. she has everything." thora said, turning around. "my god, look at your hand. let me wrap that a little tighter." she led her out of the cooler and back over to the sink. as she unwrapped a new, crisp, white roll of bandage and redid the wound, thora's husband stepped into the room. he was whistling a song form baz lurhmann's new broadway play, "la boheme." for an orgamian-paperman he was quite stunning. several sheets of colour were used in his creation. he was folded so well that one had to look closely to even recognize him to be as such. "hello darllng," he said to thora and he kissed her on her feathered cheek in greeting. (you do remember she has a blue jay head?) "what lovliness do we have the honour of beholding?." he said, taking the madrill's good hand and tenderly kissing it with his paper lips. looking at her bad hand, the blood staining the fresh gauze, he shook his head and said, "looks nasty." the madrill heard a light crinlkling of paper as his head moved, but the noise was more interesting than strange. she immediately noticed compassion in his uplifted paper eyebrows. every one of his movemements appeared calculated, yet were fluid. "good day, dear," she said in return. "be a hon and hitch up the cart. we need to take our new friend, the madrill, to your brother. she needs a few stitches." "sure," twinkletoes said, touching the madrill lightly on the shoulder. "we'll get her fixed up." the madrill felt as if a butterfly had landed upon her. "i'll have it ready in a jiff." he turned away and the madrill realized where he got his nickname. he moved with more grace than fred astaire. "wow," the madrill said. "look at him dance." "yeah, he's a happy soul," thora said, taping up the bandage as best she could. 030110 what's it to you? who go blather from