Little Miss Maisy; Deleted Scenes

Editing Process Product, No. 2

18. Death of a Green Noodle . . .

. . .  Remember Lucky?

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"Eric!" Maisy screamed out into the hallway with such urgency Eric instinctively scrambled to her as fast as he could.

He's her babysitter today while the daycare is closed because of an outbreak. 

"Maisy?!" He called once he got to the doorframe, his heart pounding in his chest. One could only assume something is terribly wrong when someone yells like that.

Maisy turned with a tearful expression, holding Lucky's container in her hands. His happy little home. "Lucky isn't moving!"

Eric sighed, placing a hand on his chest to settle himself down. He wasn't expecting the sudden stress, he nearly had a heart attack and it was over Maisy's caterpillar. Too anticlimactic for his taste.

"You almost gave me a heart attack to tell me your bug isn't moving?" Eric stared at her, his breathing still a tad uneven. That was quite a rush of anxiety.

"He's not a bug!" Maisy defended Lucky, already frustrated enough. She still hasn't allowed Eric to go near Lucky after that little incident.

And to no one's surprise, Eric didn't really care. To him, Lucky is nothing more than a miniature green noodle.

"Uh-huh," Eric muttered, fighting the urge to roll his eyes at her logic. "Your point, madam?"

"He isn't moving!" She yelled this time as her voice broke, stomping her foot to get her point across.

"Hey—" Eric warned, not wanting to deal with a tantrum of any sort. This was supposed to be an easy-going day. "—What's the big deal? He's probably just sleeping."

"But he's not, Lucky doesn't sleep like this!"  Maisy sniffled, knowing that her caterpillar being so still wasn't a good thing.

His usual bright green exterior seemed to be a bit bland now and Maisy was right . . . he's unusually still. Oh boy.

"Well, when's the last time you checked on him?" Eric decided to humor her hysterics and build up an argument, enough to reassure her.

An okay tactic he found usually works about eighty percent of the time. We don't talk about the other twenty percent.

Maisy sniffled and fidgeted with her fingers as she stared at the floor, not meeting Eric's eyes. She knew her answer wasn't a good one. ". . . When Miles and Amber made cookies."

"Cookies? Maisy, that was four days ago." Suddenly, Eric decided that maybe he did need a better look at this green noodle. God, how he hoped Lucky was fine.

It would spare him from the chaotic consequences that would immediately follow.

"I-I know," Maisy mumbled. She had given him a couple of leaves last time she opened his container, deciding Lucky would like them. "I forgot to play with him."

Eric sighed and bent down to Maisy's level, realizing why the caterpillar was so still. It didn't take a genius to see. "Mais, you don't have to get upset."