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----------------------Villa Lugano--------------------
—-------------Newhorn Household—------------
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Lucinda locks the door behind her, finding yet another bag of trash filled with holes in front of the staircase. Weren’t for her, for the constant upkeep she gives the house, her parent’s hoarding would have flooded the house long ago. It isn’t a guess: it’s a fact. It already happened. For only two weeks she had gone on that needless school trip in order to hunt down that murderer, and only after two weeks her whole house looked like a garage sale. They pick up trash: mother and father love picking up trash. They always say that they were lucky, that they will clean it.
It NEVER happens.
The tusk peeks from the corner of the door; the corner of Lucinda’s mouth rises all the little. With big dumb steps, her pet, a real, living, breathing woolly mammoth makes its way towards her, and gently tackles her leg. It rubs its head against it; as Lucinda pets it, she realizes it’s getting too big. She was so used to it, that only because something shattered did she realize that her parents were fighting in the kitchen, yet again. Only in the kitchen: otherwise, the neighbors could hear.
Stepping into the fray, Lucinda goes through them and straight to the fridge. Anything in it she bought herself; from lettuce, to meat, to butter, to radish, to garlic, and eggs. Like with the cupboards, both her progenitors were perfectly happy to leave them to her. Getting ready to cook, fully determined to not clean the glass on the floor, Lucinda spots her mammoth from the corner of her eye and almost sighs; she’ll clean it.
>(Next up is YO MAMMA)
