trip to the emergency room - but a pretty dress was oddly tempting. Her wardrobe was entirely bereft of anything pink or frilly.
She reached for the next offering in the jar, hoping for something a little less precarious than roller skating. Have a sword fight with homemade swords. Elsie giggled - that one could likely be accomplished without medical incident, and she knew a witchling who probably had sword-making talents.
The next one was a bit mystifying. Borrow Caro's bike and go for a ride. Why was that silly? She tried to imagine what the practical Caro could possibly have done to her bike and shrugged, coming up empty. Perhaps it was painted orange. She could handle a ride on an orange bike. Perhaps that was a good project for the morning.
Wear socks that don't match. Elsie told her inner fashion critic to be quiet. Feeling silly was the whole point of this exercise. The bigger problem was that all her socks were the same practical gray.
Create some graffiti art. She snorted - that one would get her arrested.
The next slip of paper was signed. Take video of all the other silly ideas in this jar. Invite us all over to watch - with popcorn. Jamie. Nat's husband had a warped sense of humor.
Looking at the strewn pieces of paper on her bed, Elsie decided she needed some kind of organizational system. A pile for ideas she could implement reasonably quickly and with minimal danger to herself or others. A pile for things that might require some assistance or instruction. And a pile for ideas too outlandish to be considered. A quick glance at a few more of the slips in her jar suggested the third pile was going to be rather large.
Learn to belly dance. She was learning to sing. That was surely enough embarrassment for one lifetime. Into the "outlandish" pile.
Toast marshmallows inside a fort of couch cushions. Fire hazard, but it might work with some modifications. Into the "needs assistance" stack.
Feeling like she had a good system now, Elsie went to work.
It wasn't often you woke up with Count Dracula's laugh ringing in your ears. Lizard blinked, wondering what the stupid jerkwads were up to now - and then remembered she didn't live with jerkwads anymore.
She lived with a stick-butt psychologist. Well, that probably wasn't entirely fair - the stick had loosened up quite a bit in the last couple of weeks.
Then the laugh came again, and this time Lizard sent out a mindtrace to verify. She considered putting a pillow over her head and going back to sleep - whatever had Elsie laughing like a Sesame Street character at 7 a.m. couldn't possibly be good. It was, however, impossible to ignore.
The whole watching-babies-be-born deal was exhausting - she needed about three more days of sleep to feel normal. Which was going to happen exactly never, especially with Count Dracula in residence in the bedroom next door. Lizard rolled out of bed and stumbled down the hall, pushing hair out of her eyes - and found Elsie sitting on her bed, surrounded by little slips of paper. Her cackles had moved on from the Count to something that sounded more like it belonged in Macbeth.
"Morning," said Lizard, walking into the room. "Practicing your witch laugh?"
Elsie startled, sending bits of paper flying everywhere. "Oh, you scared me!" She squinted at Lizard more carefully. "I'm so sorry - did I wake you up?"
Lizard saw the jar and flashed back to the events of the previous morning. "Are those all the silly ideas? Any good ones?"
Elsie was busily collecting and re-piling papers. "Some excellent ones, I think. And some impossible ones, but that's to be expected."
It was the latter that interested Lizard. "Which pile is the crazy ones?" She tried not to laugh when Elsie pointed. It was twice as big as any of the other piles. Lizard picked up a few notes and started reading. Belch the ABC's - or Shakespeare. Challenge the witchlings to a tricycle race. Create some graffiti art. Speak in rhyme for a day. "These aren't impossible." The belching sounded like a blast.
"Sure they are." Elsie frowned, looking over Lizard's shoulder. "I can't belch or rhyme, I couldn't possibly fit on a tricycle, and graffiti is illegal."
"Everyone can belch, graffiti's only illegal if you get caught, and the whole reason the tricycle race would be funny is because you don't fit."
Elsie just looked totally blank. Lizard tried a different approach. "What's the doable pile? Never mind."