"Devon," I whimper, staring at him imploringly from where he is standing opposite the army of kitchen appliance robots who are coming to eat my soul. "I trusted you." I blow my nose loudly on my sleve and burp, just so that he can feel sorry for me and maybe change his mind about being evil.
"Wait hold the phone," he says, holding up a finger and rummaging around in one last drawer. I grab my cell phone from my pocket.
"Holding it!" I say triumphantly. But Devon ignores me. Instead, he produces a set of chopsticks, pushes it's robot button thing, and sets it down on the floor.
"Okay," he says to his robots, "Attack." The robots beging to waddle forward making weird clicking sounds and they back me against a kitchen counter, closing me in on all sides.
"Celestial whale?" I ask quietly, the robots coming ever closer.
'Wut." The celestial whale examines it's fingernails in apparent boredom. It has a golden chain hanging around it's neck with a large sparkling dollar sign pendant on the end of it. He looks so #swag that I can't even deal. This is going on twitter, pronto.
"Please help me?" I ask, as soon as I have uploaded my tweet, which says, "Partying hard with @the_celestial_whale at @DevonRoss 's house! HOLLA AT THE DJ." I didn't know if Devon had twitter, so I tagged a random Devon and hoped for the best. The celestial whale checks his phone.
"Omigod noooo, I have to update my facebook status. Yolo." He gives me the peace sign with his tail and flops quietly out of the room, going, "Urrrrrrrrr," all the way. I love the celestial whale sooo much, but sometimes he just has soooo much attitude. Like when I told the celestial whale that his tail was nice and he was like I know. Like that is just too sassy, even for a sass muffin.
"Devon," I whine as the chopsticks reach my feet and begin to stab my shoes repeatedly, making little grunting sounds of effort. "Make them stoppppp."
"Zip it," says Devon, "Lock it," says Devon, "And put it in your pocket."
"Okay," I say, zipping up my jacket, locking it, balling it up, and putting it in my pocket. By now more robots have reached me and they are stabbing my shoes and my legs and it hurts. "YOWWEEEE. I HAVE A BOOBOO." I lean down and suck on my wound. At times like these, I think that maybe I am a vampire. Blood tastes nice. And one of my teeth is sort of pointy. And when I go out into the sun for a long time, I get all red. So maybe I am a vampire chameleon.
Devon leans casually against the kitchen counter as the robots attack his fellow chameleon (which is me). This is very unshrublike of him. I am thoroughly disappointed. At first, I had been impressed by his shrubness, but now I know better.
"You LOSER SHRUB!" I shriek at him, frantically doing the macarana. "You failure of a chameleon!" This doesn't seem to faze Devon so I call him a doo doo pie. He blinks at me, which I take as that he is deeply insulted. Good.
But then he laughs. Trying to ignore the pain stabbing my legs, I bare my vampire fangs and glare at him, hissing like a panda. I, Gweda, am not going down without a fight.
