Pastepocalips

#toothpaste #NaNoWriMo2017

“Bahhrggghaa,” said Macintosh as he was waking up, because his mouth was full of toothpaste.

Among the many modern comforts Raffaela discovered since the day she started working for Syn, toothpaste was her favourite. Back in the streets of the city where she grew up (but not very up), Raf was using what most Bogovians know and love as the “breakfast root” — a bitter, spicy root that one chews each morning, for about 20 minutes or until your gums get numb. A clean mouth is a smelly mouth, as the saying goes.

“Mabbbrrr,” said Muna, slipping into conscious and discovering there’s paste over her eyes.

Toothpaste rocked Raffaela’s world, but not only because of its qualities as a more efficient, and more pleasantly smelling, oral hygiene facilitator. It was the texture that proved to be worthy of her attention. Combined with the fact that toothpaste is not, generally speaking, poisonous, that meant she was now able to easily arm herself with a paste-like substance that can be smeared practically anywhere, with no long lasting effects. When she discovered, on her third week of training, that toothpaste was considered “toiletries”, and therefore would always be replenished by Syn, no questions asks, the end was nigh.

“What’s — ahh!!” As Mac slipped his bare feet into the slippers, the unexpected sensation of cold, mucky substance between his toes really threw him off balance.

“Is everything okay?” Muna straightened up in her bed, her expression barely visible through the toothpaste covering her face, Mac barely visible through the toothpaste covering her eyes. “Are we under — baaaah”

The poor (but brave!) leader was interrupted by a sudden ball of mint-flavoured, enamel-reinforcing toothpaste, smearing against her nose.

“Who did that!” She mumbled between swiping and spitting. Mac, in the meanwhile, stood up and went to grab a towel from the closet, groaning as each step was accompanied by a “shblech” coming from his slippers.

“Here.” He growled, tossing the towel at Muna’s head. “Good morning. I think Raf is on it again.”

Muna started wiping the paste off her face, taking short breaths between nausea-inducing bursts of mint.
“Raf!” She called out, trying to look up at the upper side of her double bed, where Raffaela was supposed to be spending the previous night — quickly coming to a conclusion that the Bogovian was obviously busy doing other things, as a small mound of toothpaste, sliding forward since the moment Muna’s hand grabbed the railing, came crashing into her face.

“Heh, it’s actually pretty — baah” Said Mac, as a ball of toothpaste came slamming into his eyes. “I think she’s still around.” He said, raising a finger. “And I believe her aim is improving.”

“Okay, that’s good…” Muna said softly, wiping her face again, with a towel that by now was more toothpaste than fabric. “We should always try to see the best in every situation.”

“I can’t really see anything right now.” Said Mac, after a hesitant try to clean his face with his fingers proved too yucky to be feasible. “Raf, we all had a laugh, how about you come out now.”

“Huh!” The voice came from within their shared room, although neither of the junior Agents was able to pinpoint it accurately. “I was always here. You honestly think I’ll take this pastepocolips outside?”

“Ah.” Mac tried leaning against the wall and crossing his hands, in an effort to look cool. With his face completely covered by toothpaste, except for two nostrils, and almost missing the wall by a few centimeters, he did not, in fact, look cool. “Section 6 of the Barracks Guidelines, keep the corridors clear at all times.”

“I may be a loveable prankster, but I’m not suicidal.” The voice seemed to smirk.

“About that loveable part,” Muna said, as she, regretfully, started wiping her face with her blanket. “I think you made your point, we both think it’s very funny, so…”

“I don’t get the feeling you think it’s funny, Muna. What do you say, Mac? Does she think it’s funny?”

Muna stood up and looked toward the ceiling, the only place where the little rogue could have been hiding all along. She wasn’t there. The voice was coming from a different direction now, though, making her think Rafaella was moving around. Applying the tactics we learned just this week, Muna thought with a bit of pride. Always try to see the best —

“I think she’s not at all laughing.” Mac said, and threw himself through the door, dodging out of the room as quickly as possible.

“Well.” Said the voice. Muna turned her head toward the wardrobe, where she could finally see Raffaela, grumpy-looking and paste-covered. “How about we see those teeth, Muna. Big smile! Toothpaste is good for you.” Her hand reached toward the handle, in a slow, ominous fashion.

“..how many tubes have you been hoarding, Raffaela?” Muna stared at the wardrobe’s door, as Raf’s grump stretched into a smile, the door slowly opening, something creaking inside.

“alllll of theeemmmm” whispered the girl, throwing herself away as the avalanche came down with a thundering cascade that echoed throughout the castle.

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