This was written for my fabulous mother, Pam, for Christmas two years ago. Last year, I gave her a sequel. :)
Pammie-Wammie was a sweet young woman that loved chocolate and computers and hated dirty dishes. She had a pet fish, the wonderful Frandolino, who liked to eat chocolate with her and never dirtied any dishes. They were the best of friends.
It was an ordinary day, Pammie-Wammie was munching on some cocoa puffs while Frandolino just glub-glubbed his way along when the ungrateful family beast, Dabume, dropped a stack of icky-sticky dishes into the sink. Pammie-Wammie cried out, “Can’t you at least rinse your dishes? I hate dirty dishes!”
Dabume just grunted and retreated back into its lair under Pammie-Wammie’s computer room. Pammie-Wammie sighed and rested her chin in her hands. “Frandolino, does Dabume hate me? He knows I hate dirty dishes.”
Frandolino just glubbed.
Pammie-Wammie decided to teach Dabume a lesson so she ignored the dishes and continued to for days. She ate chocolate and played computer games and talked to Frandolino while Dabume’s yucky-mucky dishes continued to pile up.
Pammie-Wammie came downstairs the sixth day of dish-ignoring and found Frandolino gone! There was a ransom note by the mountain of icky-sticky, yucky-mucky dishes. It said that if Pammie-Wammie ever wanted to see poor Frandolino again, she’d have to go where Dabume had taken him, the
Pammie-Wammie nervously ate some Oreos as she stared at her computer screen, wondering what she should do. Finally, she typed ‘
With a freshly printed map to the
She could almost hear Frandolino glub.
Her next stop was the dreaded white table forest. As Pammie-Wammie snaked her way through the hospital-table wannabes, she nervously munched on her chocolate churro. And by the time she reached the third part of her adventure, it was gone.
Pammie-Wammie found herself on a boat once she was through the white table forest. A calming boat ride did her conscience some good but not the chocolate churro. When she reached the fifth part of her journey, her face was green from the combination of the boat ride and chocolate churro not agreeing.
The fifth leg of her journey shocked Pammie-Wammie, she was back at her own house! Cautiously, she opened the door and softly called, “Dabume? Are you here?” Dabume didn’t answer.
Frandolino didn’t glub either.
Pammie-Wammie sighed while she made her way through the long hallway to the computer room, right next to the kitchen. She sat down at her desk and promptly shredded the map. Obviously, the paperclip was a brat. It had told her that her own house was the dreaded
In need of more chocolate, Pammie-Wammie went to the fridge to get her secret stash of chocolate pudding that she kept for emergencies such as this. When the pudding was gone, all too soon, Pammie-Wammie set her cup and spoon in the sink, then slumped down to the floor, not bothering to reach her desk.
Wait, thought Pammie-Wammie, she’d actually put her dishes IN the sink? She jumped to her feet and peered timidly into the silver basin, only to find her dirty cup and spoon, and Frandolino! Pammie-Wammie squee’d in excitement, before she hugged Frandolino’s bowl to her chest. “I’ve missed you so much!”
Dabume slunk up behind her and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for all that, Pammie-Wammie,” he said, scratchily. “But I needed you out of the house in order to take care of these dirty dishes. And that was the only method I could think of.”
“Well,” Pammie-Wammie considered her response carefully. “You’re forgiven, I suppose. So long as you promise to rinse your dishes from now on.” Dabume gruntingly agreed and they both signed the treaty of Dish-Wash-ika.
And Frandolino glubbed.