Before the Hunt

Seven: Drug Store, but it had a Mormon

POV Marceline

Saturday morning was hard, mainly because I'd been on GMod with Jeff, Isaac, and Don until 4:00 a.m. SO I didn't want to get up. I woke up around 11:47 to Granddad mowing the backyard, and Granna woke me up by the sound of her dropping a jar of, something. I rolled off my bed and laid flat on the floor for a good four minutes, just groaning, not wanting to get up. I finally got up and went to see what Granna had dropped. I got up, wearing nothing but a baggy green plaid shirt and grey shorts, and walked downstairs, jumping the last two steps. I walked into my grandma's art studio and saw her picking up paint brushes off the floor. 

Once I walked in, I saw her pick up some of the broken glass from the mason jar full of brushes, but then she stabbed her palm with it. "FUCK!" she cried out, trying to get the glass out of her hand. She must've seen me in the doorway, because she turned her head and said, "Oh, uh, hey hon. Sleep well?" I shrugged, "I was up til four playing Garry's Mod with the boys, but sure." Granna laughed as she yanked the glass out of her hand, "That sounds fun Marcy, oh, by the way, you mind getting me the band aids from the kitchen. They should be in the pantry next to the oven." I nodded, but then I looked at the painting she was halfway done with and asked, "Who's the painting for?" "Some man I met in Vegas when I went for an art show. He lives in Washington, but he moved to Vegas for the atmosphere. So he asked me to paint him some of the North Western mountains," she explained, using a wet rag from the studio's table that she'd used to clean off the surface. I skipped into the kitchen and opened the pantry to look for the band aids box. I had to dig through the top shelf to find them, since Granddad put his fucking stash of "The Top 40 Countdown" magazines from the 90's on the top shelf. But aye, the guy likes music so who could blame him? I grabbed the box and ran back into Granna's studio.

"Thank ya Marcy," she said as I handed her the box. I shrugged, "What are teenagers for?" "Well, you sure act like one," Granna remarked as she placed the box on the studio table. I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, I know I cuss a lot." "Marcy, it's not that. It's that you're out later than you used to be. I don't give a shite if you swear. Just don't do it near a Baptist church, they'll freak out on ya," she joked, as she dipped one of the fan brushes in the dark green paint on a large paper plate. I giggled by her remark, and waved as I left the room to get dressed. I ran upstairs and put on a t-shirt that was white and had an 8-bit cherry on the front, and some old green and white striped pants, along with my muddy converse, and I headed downstairs to grab some iced tea to wake up. Once I got downstairs, I saw a note on the fridge, it was of course from Granddad, because only I can read his fucking chicken scratch writing. It read:

"Hey Marceline,
Connor (your grandma) and I are going to visit some of your mum's cousins in Montana for the weekend. We might be home around midnight on Sunday, but if she hasn't told ya yet, then this note will help you figure out as to why we've been gone for a while. 
Love ya! 
-Sean (your Granddad)." 

Once I'd put the note back on the fridge I heard Granna call out, "By the way! Uh, read the note on the fridge, love!"
"Already did!" I called back to her, "Have fun in Montana!"
Granna stepped out of her studio and said, "Oh, okay cool. You mind tellin yer Granddad that we're leaving in like, twenty minutes? Also, there's no food in the fridge, you mind gettin some later on today?"
 I nodded as I walked outside through the green screen door to tell Granddad. Lucky for me, he was already sitting on the back porch, smoking a cigar, like the old Irishman he is.
"Hey Victor," I said, as I sat next to him.
 He smiled as he blew a puff of smoke, "Aye Marceline. Get the note?"
I nodded, "Yeah, also your wife says that you're leaving in twenty minutes. Well, nineteen now that I've been speaking to you."
"Aw crap, forgot we were leaving early! Well, I guess I should get my shit together and pack up the wagon huh?" he said as he stood up in a panic on the porch steps.
 I snickered, "Hey, it's Granna, she might not make you bring the whole house like Aunt Abby does."
 Granddad nodded as he let his cigar hang from his lip, "Yeah, I guess so. Anyways, you have fun. But don't forget to feed yourself."
I nodded as he rustled my hair with his lanky, old man hand. We both walked inside and watched "Full House" on the old, tattered couch until Granna called out from their bedroom, "Victor, get yer ass off the couch! We're leaving in like, negative seven minutes!" Granddad shot up from the couch, and fast for an older man. He sprinted down the hallway and grabbed his shit and followed Granna out to the car. Soon I heard the car drive off, and I was on my own for, all weekend.