The Flood

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Lucy's eyes opened to moonlit darkness, the burning pain of a cricked neck consuming her. Slowly she drew her head away from the lumpy couch cushion it had settled on, straightening it inch by painful inch.

When she was finally sitting tall, she rolled her head back and forth until the cramp gave way, freeing her to think again.

The last thing she remembered, she'd been editing her video—and it had still been light out then. What time was it now?

She hit a key on the dark keyboard beside her. 1:30 in the morning? Shoot. She'd missed her deadline to get her blog posted by an hour and a half. Oh well. No time like the present to finish it up.

She hit play on the frozen screen and giggled as the blender exploded in front of her. The camera caught all the action—from the moment Dan appeared to dump the flaming appliance into the sink until the second he carried her off screen for her dunking. The last shot was of his hand smacking her polka-dotted butt and grinning at the camera.

Well. That was something. Under normal circumstances, she'd scrap the whole thing and reshoot, but these were extraordinary times. And since he was a mighty fine-looking sidekick, her audience probably wouldn't care about the change in format—even if she did have to let her cellulite-ridden ass be shown on YouTube.

She spent the next hour editing it into a comic sequence, complete with cartoon thought bubbles and Batman-style "Boom!" "Pow!" "Kablooey!" graphics. There was only one thing left to do—film a closing.

After spending a few minutes brushing her hair and cleaning the makeup smears from her face, she grabbed the bottle of rum, turned on all the lights, and flicked the camera on.

"As you can see, the life of a YouTube star isn't always glamorous. But you know what I always say. When the universe steals your mojito, you're totally allowed to drink straight from the bottle."

She took a giant glug of rum, winked, and turned off the camera.

Ten minutes later, the video was uploaded and ready for viewing.

There. Now she could head to bed with a clear conscience. She'd done what she needed to do. She headed up the stairs, already thinking about the soft mattress that waited for her. There was nothing quite like going to sleep with the sound of the ocean waves in your ears while the sea breeze swirled through your bedroom. As a matter of fact, she could already hear them.

But wait. Hadn't she left the windows closed?

Her stomach sank as she raced to her bedroom. As she got closer, there was no mistaking the sound of water sloshing—inside. And there was no missing the telltale river of water flowed from under the bathroom door and across the wood floor.

She yanked the bathroom door open and stopped dead when she saw the mess in front of her. The sink was running full blast, feeding the waterfall that emptied into a pond on the white tile floor. A pond that was rapidly growing shallower as it spilled out into her bedroom.


She grabbed the faucet and frantically tried to turn it off. But the handle just spun limply as water continued to pour. It was completely broken? Just her luck. What now?

Wait. Most sinks had a shutoff valve beneath them. If she could find that, she could stop the flood.

Lily dropped to her knees and wrenched the cabinet open. Now, if only she knew what a shutoff valve looked like. She stuck her head into the cabinet and looked for some sort of handle-y looking thing but came up empty. No handles. No knobs. No screws. Nothing.

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