Labor Day:Mandarin Moana

All for Isy's Doll

I was sitting in Miss Apple’s room. She told Isabelle it was a normal cold and flu. “Just don’t be scared, Ashlin. I Know Mr. Tipple always scares the patient. Your sister does not have AIDS.” Miss Apple smiled. I smiled at Isy. “You’re not gonna die, anyway!” I cracked the most horrible joke ever, making Isy laugh.
“I know I’m not going to die!” Isabelle smiled back. I was really happy. And mad too. For no reason. I caught a wink in a few seconds. I was dreaming of mozzarella and rancho, what I was going to have back home. Baked brussel sprouts, and rancho. Or maybe Caesar? I’m mad for Caesar. Something interrupted the liquid, hot, molten, creamy, tangy, cheesy Caesar to drop onto those boiled and steamed, hot and puffing brussel sprouts all of a sudden. It was a loud scream. I heaved my heavy head with a broken start. A girl in the next room, was going mad, throwing the thingy that checks your heartbeat and tells if you’re dead or alive. It smashed the ground, like an orange beating down to the ground and turning into complete juice. She pulled out a gun from a man’s pocket nearby (probably her father), and started shootin’ ‘em like dodo pop. No one was blooded or anything, but the glasses were down. I ducked down, and ordered Isy to copy me. Miss Apple tried to stop her, but that ain’t working. She had that power of which I’ve seen of the great Mustangs. You know Mustangs? The rightful owners of the Prairies of the wild wild west. I quickly caught Isy’s hand, sprinted like ostrich out of the back door. “What IS going on?” Isy questioned. “I can’t talk now!” I went getting out of the place as quick as I could. “Maybe she lost someone.” Said Isy. “You’re right”, I nodded. “We don’t want to lose time and get screwed up.” “Come on I’m SERIOUS.” Isy halted. “go and get her.” “I can see how much of that is possible.” I said. I pulled her over. “Do you want to kill yourself? If yes you can go!” I tried to make her understand. “YES!!!” she stopped. “Isy….huh….k…I’ll go. But stay here.”I’m coming back in a few seconds.” If it was Isy, then anything for her. I raced to the situation, took out my handkerchief, put some etho spirit lying around the hospital, and caught the girl’s hand and pushed the tissue against her mouth. She fainted. The NYP and the ‘Mental Control Care Center’ guys had arrived to enjoy the party. ‘Better get out of here….’ I had to get out of there real quick, or those hefty guys would tie me up in metals. But that was easy. Why would they make me a stunts girl if it wasn’t? I stood on the window sill, with Isy’s doll on my back, and encouraged myself to go. I threw myself to the ground, which wasn’t so deep, just one and a half feet high from the window. Taking action, I slammed the window glass on their faces. “The other way!!!” one ordered, pointing another way. I took my chance. “Isy! This way!” I rushed towards the forest. She followed me. I jumped into the creek with the doll, swam as fast as I could. They stopped at the edge of the forest. I dragged her doll, to our house, and laid her on the floor. “Here you go Isy, I’ve bought you a real, talking-walking, DOLL, for a set of JAIL BARS!!!” I couldn’t control the situation. Most of the big sisters say, “Even though I fight with my sister, I love her.” But I say, “I love her. To the best convention, I fight with her.”
“Look, I was just joking.” That was the biggest explanation she could give to me. “I was just joking.” I mimicked her. “Look, I wanted my sister to show me she was the kind and brave-hearted….” “It’s the brave and kind-hearted.” “Yeah, yeah whatsoever. So, I was saying….” She could go on blabbing for the whole of an hour. Rule number one-always correct your sibling’s grammar while arguing. So, let’s make it clear. An orphaned seven year old kid, raises a little, lonely, no-parented two year old, to a healthy, playing girl and I work as a stunts girl risking my life, and a part-time roll-off mechanic, dying to earn money for a meal, and that very girls bites the hand that feeds her, bringing a doll to play. That ain’t fair. Nuh-uh.