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Today is a very, very special day.
Sausage has been waiting for this day for what feels like his whole life—well, not his whole life, just the past few years, which is a considerable amount considering he’s only ten years old.
Since he is an only child, he is the heir to the Mythland throne. And since he is the heir, he will be given the special ability to perform blood magic. That ability is given on his tenth birthday—today. He’ll get it through some ritual that he’s currently getting ready for. However, he can never remember what will actually happen. All he remembers is that it has something to do with a sacrifice, whatever that is. He’ll ask his mother about that when he sees her.
Now, here he stands, looking at himself in the mirror on the wall. He’s adorned in ornate pure white robes made of sheep wool that seem to glow against his tan skin. Even though they’re perfectly tailored to his size, he's drowning in all the different layers. His hair is combed into round little curls and he’s even wearing a little bit of makeup. He looks perfect.
He can’t help but grin at himself. The whole town is coming to see him and celebrate his birthday. Everybody will watch him perform the super important ceremony and gain magic. They’ll be so proud, watching their prince act so grown up. They’ll clap and cheer for him and congratulate him afterward. He giggles at the idea, bouncing on his heels.
Despite his excitement, he can’t deny how nervous he is, either. This is a really big deal, and if something goes wrong, everything will be ruined. Everyone is counting on him—his parents, his ancestors, his people, his future descendants, everyone.
Sausage seems to have a long mess-up streak. Almost every day he makes a mistake and gets in trouble for it. What would happen if he messed up now? His punishments for his everyday screw-ups were harsh enough. He can’t even imagine how badly he’d be in trouble. He cannot ruin it.
“Your Highness, are you dressed?” A voice calls from the other side of the door, causing Sausage to jump.
“Yes!” He calls back, wiping his sweaty palms on his robes.
The door opens and a familiar face looks in. They’re a maid or butler or something like that. One of the many people who bow to him as he walks by and do anything he asks.
“Is it time to go?” Sausage asks.
“Yes. Follow me,” They order before turning around and walking down the hallway.
Sausage follows them down the hallway towards the small room behind the chapel. They’re in the huge church, the one with the big, fancy altar and enough pews to fit almost the entire kingdom. It’s only used for very special occasions. Sausage feels giddy every time he reminds himself that he’s a special occasion.
An old carpet lies on the floor of the small, dark hallways. Portraits of his ancestors peer down at him on the walls, ready to watch and judge him. Empty vases stand on plain tables underneath each frame. A thin layer of dust coats every surface due to the lack of use. Once they arrive they were met with Sausage’s parents, the king and queen, and the high priest. Sausage’s escort ushers him inside, bows to his parents, and hurries to leave again.
The room was quite small, barely big enough to hold all of them and the few shelves holding odd artifacts pressed against the walls. Sausage carefully steps towards the three adults who are huddled together, speaking in hushed voices. He shifts awkwardly, not knowing what to do.
“Um…” He says, interrupting the three adults. They all silence and turn to look at him.
“Oh good, you’re all dressed,” His mother says, striding over to him with his father following behind her. “We can start now.” The priest nods and starts rummaging through the shelves, grabbing various objects and passing them over to Sausage’s father.
“Hold still,” Sausage’s mother says as she starts straightening his hair and robes out.
“Mother,” Sausage asks. “What’s a sacrifice?”
“Sacrifice?”
“You said I had to be one today.”
She pauses, “You’re going to die. The priest is going to kill you.”
Sausage’s heart sinks. “Kill me?”
“Yes, that’s what I said,” She finishes her work and turns away.
All of the excitement inside Sausage vanishes in an instant and is replaced with fear. The thought of going out to the altar, which before made him giddy and excited, now fills him with ice-cold terror. He’s going to die? At only ten years old? He’s never died before. He doesn’t ever want to die.
He’s shaking from head to toe. His parents are still speaking, he thinks, but the words don’t quite reach his ears. It’s going to be fine, right? It has to be. If his father’s fine, then he will be. A hand lays on Sausage’s shoulder, startling him. The priest looks down at him expectantly.
“You are going to lie on the altar,” The priest explains to him, "And the ritual will start. During the ritual, all of the unholy blood will leave your body. Every single drop. You will respawn with pure, sacred blood.”
“Okay,” Sausage whispers.
With his heart pounding in his chest, he follows the priest out onto the dais. As he looks out into the audience, his breath is taken away. The entire chapel is full. Every pew holds people squished together, and despite the extra chairs placed in the back, people are still standing on the sides. The sight would've made him ecstatic before, but all he could feel now was dread. The entire kingdom is here, crowded together in one church, to watch him die. They all want to watch him die.
To distract himself from his anxiety, he looks around the room. He’s never gotten a proper view of the room before due to this only being the third time he’s been in this church. It’s decorated with elaborate tapestries hanging on the walls depicting tales of his ancestors and winding thorns crawl up the pillars with seemingly immortal roses growing on them. Golden sunlight beamed through stained glass windows picturing blood sheep and their shepherds.
The dais is decorated with a large altar at the front, and a basin is positioned around the base. To catch his blood, presumably. Behind the altar, a decorated table stands, holding a plethora of unlit red candles and an unknown object wrapped in a cloth. Sausage’s parents stand on the side of the dais, watching him. The priest steps to the front, addressing the crowd.
“Citizens of Mythland,” He says loudly, “We gather here today to watch the baptism of our crown prince, Mythical J. Sausage,”
The priest grabs Sausage by the shoulders and pushes him in front of him at the edge of the dais. Every eye in the crowd locks on Sausage. He flinches at the stare and steps back in a feeble attempt to escape, bumping into the man behind him.
“Today will be the last day that dirty, impure blood will flow through his veins. After today, he will be blessed with a special, sacred ability: Blood Magic.”
The rest of the words fade into the background. Sausage tries to pay attention, what the priest is saying is probably important, but he can barely focus. All of his citizens are here watching. Staring. Expecting. Antsy toddlers squirm in their seats next to bored teenagers. Babies sit in their mothers' laps, oblivious to what is happening.
The priest finishes his speech and Sausage is ushered toward the altar.
“Lay down,” He instructs and Sausage obeys, pulling himself up and laying on his back.
The altar is cold and uncomfortably hard. The priest stands above him, holding the wrapped object from the table. Slowly, the cloth was removed, revealing a small, sharp dagger with a mysterious purple glow. Sausage trembled, the weight of the situation sinking in.
Today he will die. Today, every drop of blood from his body will drain into the basin at the foot of the altar. Today, he will be reborn as the same person yet so different from who he is now. Today is the last day he will truly be himself.
The priest starts speaking again and every thought in Sausage’s mind silences. Words in an ancient language fill the chapel. The priest speaks louder and the dagger glows as bright as the setting sun outside the window. The skies darken, illuminating the room with an eerie glow. The priest goes quiet and meets Sausage’s eyes.
Before he can process what’s about to happen, the dagger descends. It plunges into his stomach and it hurts. Every nerve in his body screams in agony. He gasps in pain and tries to writhe away but the priest's hold on the dagger firmly holds him in place.
A scarlet river of blood seeps out of his stomach, staining his beautiful white robes. The priest starts speaking again, louder than before, but the ringing in Sausage’s ears drowns out the words. He can barely think through the pain and fear. The edges of his vision go fuzzy and he’s shaking from head to toe. After what felt like both only a second and a million years, Sausage watches the priest rip the dagger back out of his stomach. He vomits out blood before he can react to the torment. He’s probably crying, he can’t tell, he can’t focus on anything. He manages to catch the priest’s eye and sees something in his eyes. Guilt? Sympathy? Sausage can’t put his finger on it before the dagger falls again, this time planting in the center of his chest.
The pain before was horrible but this was unbearable. He coughs up more blood and his body jerks. His mind is racing with incoherent and incomplete thoughts, so overwhelming he can’t even cry. He wants so desperately to go back to the past, to when he was waiting anxiously and excitedly backstage for what he thought would be the best day of his life, and tell him how wrong he is. Tell him to run away, far away, and never come back.
As he lies there dying on the altar, his eyes find the blood dripping from his body into the basin. The steady flow in a way is comforting. And for a moment in all the pain and terror, Sausage feels calm. He vaguely registers the dagger leaving his chest and the numbing cold that had been steadily filling his limbs taking over his entire body. Darkness finally overtook his vision and his mind went silent.
–
Sausage doesn’t wake up in his bed. He’s not quite sure where he is, but he’s lying on something cold and hard, like a rock. Maybe he fell asleep on the floor again, that happened more often than he’d like to admit. He opens his eyes to find he’s not in his room, confusing him further. He’s in the grand chapel and the priest and his parents are staring down at him, waiting expectantly for something.
All the memories come flooding back. He died. The priest killed him. He was stabbed twice and bled every drop of blood in his body and his entire kingdom watched. There’s a new, strong hum running through his veins. It’s unfamiliar and uncomfortable but he feels powerful. Constant, holy, magic courses through his body, and for a moment, everything feels worth it.
“Your Highness,” The priest says, holding out his hand to help Sausage sit up. He accepts it with weak hands and shakily pulls himself up, looking out at the crowd.
Soft applause fills the chapel, making Sausage smile.
“Is it over yet?” He whispers to his mother.
“This part is,” She whispers back, “Next we are going to go back to the castle. You’re going to clean yourself up and then we’ll have the ceremonial dinner. How are you feeling? Are you alright?”
“I’m okay,” He responds. His body still pulses with magic, weighing him down, but he’s not in any real pain anymore. The shaking is slowly calming down but he can still feel the phantom pain of a dagger lodged between his ribs and tearing his heart. His feet dangle over the basin that’s now full of red blood. His blood. The sight makes him want to throw up.
Sausage’s mother waves her hand in a beckoning way as she begins to leave the dais. He pulls himself down off the altar–careful not to land in the basin. He stumbles slightly when his feet touch the ground and follows his mother off the dais, down the aisle, and out of the church. A quick glance behind him shows his father and the priest lifting the basin and carefully moving to follow Sausage and his mother.
The walk back to the castle is quick and uncomfortable. He doesn’t have any shoes so his feet get dirty and scraped from the stone pathways, but everything else goes by smoothly. He leaves his mother and enters the safety of his bedroom.
Before the dinner, Sausage has to take a bath. He needs to be squeaky clean to be as pure as possible. A maid already drew him one right before he entered the bathroom but it’s growing cold. It’s been fifteen minutes since then. He needs to hurry but can’t stop staring at himself in the mirror. He feels disgusting. His beautiful white robes have two holes, one in the center of his stomach and the other in his chest, with drying blood blooming from them. Blood stains his skin where it seeped beneath the robes and down his chin from when he vomited. His hair is a mess and his bare feet are bruised and covered in dirt.
He feels like a stranger in his own body.
After another ten minutes, he manages to look away from his reflection and peel off his grimy robes. He steps into the bath and submerges himself in the cold water. Two small scars are uncovered as he washes the blood away, making him shudder.
Sausage scrubs his skin for what feels like the millionth time, desperately trying to wash off the feeling of the copious amounts of blood that previously covered his skin. He needs to be clean. He’s trying so hard but it’s not working. He still feels so dirty.
He stays in the bath until his skin wrinkles and the water is as cold as ice. Despite his chattering teeth and blue lips, he doesn’t ever want to get out. Getting out means having to continue this ceremony and he’s exhausted. He can’t bear to look someone in the eye after what they saw. It’s safe here.
But he can’t stay here forever. There's only an hour or so left before the dinner and he isn’t even dressed yet. With a sigh, he steps out of the tub and wraps himself in the soft towel waiting for him on the shelf. His reflection looks normal now, as long as he ignores the scars.
Fresh clothes and shoes laid out on the bed greet Sausage when he walks out of the bathroom. They’re robes, much like the ones from before, except they’re colored red and black and are decorated in silver.
He gets dressed easily. He gets tangled in the intricate fabrics a couple of times, but he sorted himself out without needing any help. They’re not the most comfortable but at least he’s dressed. It’s easier to ignore the scars when they’re covered.
Not having anything else to do, he flops back onto his bed and stares at the ceiling. He was absolutely exhausted, wanting nothing more than to burrow under the covers and sleep forever. But if he tried, he’d get in trouble. So he has to wait.
Sausage doesn’t even like formal dinners. He has to dress up all fancy in uncomfortable clothes and eat in front of a ton of strangers. And once he’s finished eating he can’t even leave. He has to stay for another hour or so and wait for it to end.
Sometimes the royalty from the kingdoms they’re allied with are guests, which include Sausage’s closest friends, Pearl, Gem, and fWhip. Pearl is the ruler of Gilded Hylenthia, Mythland’s closest ally and neighboring kingdom. Gem and fWhip are twins and the heirs to the Grimlands thrones. He has other friends, but he rarely sees them, and he doesn’t like them very much. They’re all stuck-up children of noble families who don’t actually care about him.
Ally dinners are so much more bearable, but he’s only allowed to talk to his friends if they’re sitting next to each other, which isn’t guaranteed. All of the seating arrangements are pre-decided and unchangeable. He usually spends those dinners eavesdropping on other people’s conversations and using that information to gossip with his friends.
Considering the occasion, this will probably be a red-plate dinner as well. A red-plate dinner is the nickname Sausage came up with for the dinners that have dishes with red paint along the edge of them. Only adults can eat from them. Sausage was always told that’s because the red plates held food containing alcohol, but recently he found out the truth. Red plates have human meat.
Mythland is known for its human meat dishes. They've been famous delicacies throughout the kingdom's history. The other kingdoms look down on them for this. They call them disgusting, cannibalistic monsters. Sausage thinks it’s cool. He can’t wait until he’s allowed to try some. Unfortunately, he has to wait a little longer to try it, even though he already feels so old.
Trying to stay awake was harder than Sausage anticipated. He slips in and out of sleep for half an hour or so until somebody knocks on his door.
“Sausage, are you ready?” Somebody calls through the door.
“Yes!” Sausage calls back from his spot on the bed, shooting up.
The door creaks open, revealing his mother. She’s changed out of the simple red robes from earlier and into fancier red and black robes, similar to Sausage’s.
“Is it time to go?” He asked, standing up.
“Yes. Put on your shoes.”
He did, using his spare hand to wipe the tired out of his eyes.
Together they walk down the long hallways toward the ballroom. It’s quiet and peaceful. Everybody they pass goes silent and stares at Sausage as he walks by. They used to bow or gaze at him in awe. Now they can barely hide their fright. Right before they reach the ballroom doors, they take a turn down a different hallway.
“Where are we going?” Sausage asks, tripping over his feet from the change in course.
“Before the dinner, there’s something I have to give you.”
“Oh okay. Is it a present?”
“Yes,” His mother smiles. “A birthday present.”
They stopped at his mother’s room, separate from his father’s, and stepped inside.
“Wait here,” His mother says, leaving him by the doorway. She goes into her closet and comes out a moment later holding a small bundle in her hands.
“As you know, your blood is now extremely sacred,” She explains, “And spilling any of it unintentionally is incredibly dangerous.”
“Uh huh,” Sausage responds, trying to peer into the bundle and see what’s hiding inside.
“So it’s very important that you avoid wasting any of it. And to help with that, your father and I have a gift for you that will ensure that.”
She passes the tiny bundle into Sausage’s waiting hands. Carefully, he unwraps the soft fabric and gasps at what it conceals. Inside was a tiny puppy, so small that it fits in the palms of his hands. It peers up at Sausage with big, soft eyes.
“A puppy!” He cries out in delight.
“Happy birthday,” His mother says softly, smiling at the giggling boy. “She’s a special puppy. No matter what, she'll stay with you and keep you safe.”
For a moment Sausage feels happy. He forgets about everything. He forgets about his death and the rituals and the ceremonies. As he runs his fingers through the fluffy fur of his new friend, he thinks that maybe it’s not so bad. He thinks that everything’s okay.
“We do have to go now,” His mother says, breaking him out of his delusion.
“Can I bring her with me?” Sausage asks quietly.
“If you promise not to make a scene, then yes.”
He cradles the puppy close to his chest and kisses her tiny forehead. In return she licks his chin, causing Sausage to erupt into giggles.
“What is taking you two so long? We’re going to be late.”
Sausage turns to the source of the voice to see his father standing in the doorway. His robes are the same style as the others, except the silver is replaced with gold and he wears a shiny gold crown with deep red gems set in it.
After his statement, he takes his wife’s hand, which she reluctantly accepts, and leaves back down the hallway. Sausage hurries after them, clutching onto his new puppy. This time they make it to the ballroom and stop outside the doors. They all waited a moment before entering to straighten out their robes and mentally prepare themselves.
The doors swung open with a loud creak. The ballroom is usually kept empty, but now three long tables stand in a U shape. Delicate china sits on top of a deep red tablecloth by each chair. The parallel tables held the noble families of Mythland and the royal families and advisors of their closest allied kingdoms waited at the head table.
Sausage’s parents stride in with their son following behind. All of the quiet chatter silences and all heads turn to look at the small family.
“Citizens and guests,” The King addresses, his loud voice booming across the ballroom, “Thank you all for joining us today. As you’re all aware, my beloved son and heir to the throne has been baptized and purified today. Tonight, each of you will be given a glass of his discarded blood. It is tradition for all esteemed guests to drink it during the ceremony. Now, please, let the feast begin.”
Wait, what?
As they walked to the empty seats in the center of the head table, the food started being brought out. Large platters of all kinds of meats, cheeses, and bread are placed on the tables along with various stews and salads.
Sausage spots the card reading “Prince Sausage” and sits down in the empty chair. To Sausage’s relief, Pearl is sitting right next to him. Beside him are the guests from Gilded Hylenthia and on the other side of the table are the guests from The Grimlands. Gem and fWhip both give him a small wave from the other end of the table.
“Hey buddy,” Pearl says, smiling.
“Thank goodness you’re next to me,” Sausage sighs.
“How was the ceremony? I wasn’t allowed to watch it,” Pearl asks. Sausage looks down in his lap, not answering.
“That bad, huh?” Pearl whispers, her face falling.
Sausage sighs again and glances around the room. On the table right in front of Sausage is a platter with red paint along the edge. He was right, it is a red-plate dinner. Glancing around the ballroom, various dishes with red edges are found across the tables.
Pearl’s hand reaches over in front of him toward the plate with the clear objective of eating some of the meat.
“Pearl!” Sausage whispers, smacking her hand away. “You can’t eat that!”
“What? Why not?” She asks, shocked.
“It's a red plate!” He hisses, pointing at the paint.
“Ooh! Those have alcohol in them, right? Gem told me about those.”
“No, they don’t. They have human flesh on them.”
Pearl scoffs, “Human flesh? No way.”
“Yes! I heard my father talking about that to one of the chefs yesterday!”
The pair watch Pearl’s royal advisor’s hand reach in front of them, taking a slice of the meat. They gape at him as he takes a bite and the perplexed expression he makes after.
“You weren’t kidding!” Pearl exclaims as Sausage bursts into giggles.
“Told you so.”
He starts piling food from the regular dishes onto his plate with Pearl following behind. As they start eating, the tiny puppy noses her way out of Sausage’s robes and barks up at Pearl. She gasps, dropping her fork onto her plate.
“Puppy!” She cries, immediately reaching out to pet her.
Sausage smiles “My mother gave her to me right before the dinner.”
“She’s adorable!” Pearl scoops up the tiny puppy and kisses all over her face. “And she’s so tiny! What are you going to name her?”
“I don’t know yet,” Sausage admits, taking a bite of his food. Pearl runs her fingers through the puppy’s fur one last time before passing her back to Sausage.
While the pair are eating their dinner, three people quietly enter the room, each holding a large platter holding goblets.They’re smaller than the glass goblets that were already on the table and are made out of gold. Upon further inspection, Sausage notices a thin red line painted along the rim of the cup. Remembering his father’s previous announcement, Sausage’s hand hesitates as he reaches out for the cup.
He slowly brings it closer to him and his suspicions are correct. Inside is a dark red liquid. His old blood. There’s only enough for a few sips inside, but it’s enough to make his skin crawl and his new blood pulse beneath his skin.
All around the room, guests are drinking from the golden goblets. All around the room, strangers are drinking the last bit of Sausage’s youth without a single second thought. Every empty cup being placed down is like a petal falling on the ground after being ripped off a flower. The sight makes him feel so sick and the small strings of joy Pearl brought him immediately slip away. The plate that holds his favourite food now looks like vomit and mold and his appetite plummets.
Pearl, always so observant, notices the situation instantly and wraps a comforting arm around his shoulders for a while. It would be so much better if they could actually hug but that option is off the table at a dinner. They exchange a glance of understanding and Sausage softens.
“Are you doing anything important tonight?” She whispers to Sausage.
“No,” He says, “The feast is the last part of the ceremony and it won’t last much longer. After this I can finally go to sleep.”
“How tired are you?”
“Exhausted.” The only thing stopping him from falling asleep right now is the knowledge of how pissed his father would be.
“Too tired for a sleepover?”
With that, Sausage perks up. “Never!” He cries, breaking into a grin. Sleepovers with Pearl were the best and the highlight of every trip to each other's kingdom.
Pearl laughs, pulling Sausage into a hug, short enough for them to go unpunished. “Is midnight okay?” She asks.
Sausage nods, taking a sip of water from a regular, glass cup with nothing painted on the rim. He’s back to being happy. Pearl always knew how to cheer him up, no matter the situation.
The rest of the dinner goes by without anything remarkable. Sausage manages to poke a bit more at his plate and takes a few more bites, giving the majority of his food in small pieces to his puppy. After an hour or so later, the feast officially ends, and finally, Sausage is allowed to go to bed.
He returns to his bedroom and changes out of his extravagant robes into soft, cozy pajamas. He creates a makeshift dog bed out of an old pillow and a nest of spare blankets for Bubbles to sleep on tonight. He’ll ask for a proper one tomorrow.
There’s no point in sleeping yet so Sausage lies on his bed softly petting his puppy. He’d tried to get her to sleep on her new bed, but she stubbornly cuddled up next to Sausage every time he put her down. Not that he’s complaining. They bundle up together in soft blankets and pillows and wait in the dark until it’s time to go.
About an hour later, Sausage’s window slides open. He’s greeted with the sight of Pearl poking her head into his room and grinning.
“Hi there,” She whispers.
“Hi,” Sausage whispers back.
Both Gem and fWhip lean in through the window beside Pearl and wave. They’re wearing pajamas as well, and Gem’s holding a mysterious box. Sausage clambers out of bed, puppy in arms, and runs to meet them.
“What’s that for?” Sausage whispers to Gem, gesturing to the box in her hands.
“That’s a surprise!” She replies quietly.
“Are you guys going to come in?”
fWhip shakes his head. “We need to go to the tree house first.”
Stifling giggles, Sausage shoves on his shoes and climbs out of the window, carefully shutting it behind him. Together, all four of them sneak out into the forest in front of the castle.
Years ago, a little after Sausage and the twins met Pearl, they built a treehouse deep in the forest. Since then, they’ve snuck off into it whenever any of them are particularly sad or stressed or lonely and cheer each other up. Today definitely qualifies as one of those occasions.
Inside the treehouse was a surprisingly spacious room. A rug is laid out on the floor, worn down from use. Boxes and drawers holding various trinkets and snacks were pressed against the walls. Old, faded drawings sit taped to the wall and ceiling.
It felt more like home than their own houses.
Once they’re all settled inside and sitting in a circle, Gem places the mystery box in the center of the rug.
“Open it,” she tells Sausage.
He does excitedly, pulling the box toward him and unfolding the cardboard. Inside sits a small cake with the words “Happy Birthday” written in icing framed with strawberries, his favourite fruit. Sausage gasps in delight, carefully lifting the cake out of the box.
“Happy birthday, Sausage,” Pearl says, smiling at him.
“We thought you’d need something nice after today. So you can feel better,” fWhip explains.
“It does,” Sausage whispers, “I do feel better.”
Sausage watches in awe, grinning ear-to-ear, as his friends softly sing the Mythland birthday song to him. Once they finish, Pearl retrieves four forks from her pocket and distributes them to everyone. Before Sausage can stop himself, tears drip down his cheeks. All of the emotions he’s been pushing aside all day come rushing up and pouring out of him. He’s immediately met with all three of his friends pulling him in the warmest hug.
“You did great today. We’re so proud of you,” Pearl mutters, rubbing Sausage's back, which only makes him sob harder.
Once Sausage's sobs dwindle down to soft sniffs, he pulls away from his friends and turns to the cake. The hug broke and they all returned to their original spots. Sausage takes a bite of the cake. It’s chocolate, his favorite flavor, and deliciously moist with sweet icing. It’s perfectly made and it’s clear that his friends worked hard on it. They happily scarf down the cake until it’s reduced to crumbs and the tears on Sausage's cheeks have long dried.
“We didn’t bring any presents, we couldn’t fit them in our bags,” Gem admits.
Sausage smiles “That’s okay. This is perfect.”
He places his fork in the pile of crumbs and leans back against the wall. The puppy shifts in his lap and yawns.
“Speaking of gifts, what are you going to name your puppy?”
He glances down at the tiny, now-dozing pet, and thinks about it. A certain, strangely familiar name pops into his head. “I think I’ll name her Bubbles,” He says.
“Bubbles? Why?” fWhip asks.
“I dunno. It just feels right.”
fWhip shrugs “Alright.”
They stay in their hideout for only another fifteen minutes or so. They would’ve stayed longer but they were already pushing their luck and risking getting caught. They quickly clean up their small mess, throwing the box and forks in the little trash can in the corner. One by one they climb back down the ladder, say goodbye to each other, and return to their rooms.
That’s where Sausage falls asleep, bundled up in his sheets with Bubbles curled next to his head, finally feeling safe.