Saving Primary Sanders | A Sander Sides Book

IX - Heliomomentum

I'M BAAAAAAAAACK! 

Thank you for your applause. Now, let's get right back to the story, shall we? There's gonna be a revelation (or confirmation of your theory) that you've been waiting for so long!

0915 h

A fashion backward princess stalks across the City Park looking like an Eifel Tower cosplayer covered in pink and blue crepe, with sizzling glow sticks poking out from the top. Upon closer inspection though, it is clear that it is actually a decently dressed lady carrying the afore mentioned monstrosity, not wearing it. Tottering on needlepoint heels definitely not designed to be worn on grass, she places the teetering cardboard and paper creation on the ground with a sigh. Great, the stupid treasure trail is complete now.

Miss Arachne Svengali stands up and wipes her hand on an offending streamer of crepe in a series of deft little movements, but alas, gets her fingers singed on the sparklers for her trouble. She swallows a colourful swear that would have melted the poor abused replica, when she sees two children hurrying towards her: A tiny rosebud of a girl in pink pigtails and a cherubic boy with already grubby knees.

"Mummy! Mummy! When are we going to start? We're bored!"

She pulls her red smeared lips into a thin smile. "Soon, dearies. We have to wait until Daddy comes."

"He's never here!"

"Go play elsewhere," she says shoving some notes carelessly in their direction. "Go by some fruit loops or fidget spinners or kamikazes or whatever kids like these days."

The kids run away in delight, whooping and clutching their spoils in sweaty fists. Arachne stands in a power pose with hands on her hips. If this was night, lightening may have struck behind her malicious grin, but since it's day, let us have a total eclipse of the sun. "Daddy better watch out, I have some fun in store for him."

"Um... miss?" asks her puzzled assistant tapping her on the shoulder.

The eclipse goes away and Arachne drops back into reality. "What, minion?"

"I don't think you are allowed to call me that, it's against union and labour laws." The assistant twirls a strand of dirty dishwater blonde hair with a finger.

"Ugh! Where's your love of drama, woman?"

The assistant pops a bubblegum bubble. "You can't reduce me to my gender, I have a name."

"FINE,paTriCiAh, you hideous human being, why are you still snivelling at my feet?"

"You've actually put 'snivelling at your feet' on my job description."

"I didn't mean literally, you humpbacked whale!"

Patricia blinks. "That's it. I'm resigning." She thrusts her clipboard in Arachne's face and struts off without a backward glance."

"You'll never find a position as good as this!" shrieks Arachne after her, and stamps her foot. The heel breaks and she promptly collapses onto the mini Eifel Tower. Screaming like a banshee, she gets up, finally stuck in a costume that suits her from head to toe. After several unsuccessful attempts to shake it off, she checks the clipboard. She sees an endless list of things yet to be done, written in big red letters. She snaps her fingers at the organisers of the treasure hunt, and with as much authority as she can while looking like a birthday cake of a demented five year old, tells them to sort it out pronto: "You unwashed whores straight off the street, I want these done stat, or no one gets a bathroom break, I don't care you are pregnant, Nancy!"

As for herself, she heads to the nearest clothes boutique to salvage the remains of her dignity.

0930 h