A Teeny, Tiny Book for Itsy, Bitsy Stories

Rebuild

     There were no words to describe what I was feeling the moment it happened. Agony seemed most fitting in hindsight, but even that wasn't enough to accurately capture the monumental spectrum of emotions rocketing through my being at the time.
     I sat there, speechless, among the ruins of my glorious creation. It all happened so fast I wasn't even completely sure what had happened. There was a slight tremor in the earth, and then a streak of brown? black? both? I couldn't easily tell, but what I knew for sure was that everything I had made, had dedicated my life to, had been maliciously and utterly destroyed.
     My eyes roamed the flat, laminated terrain for the culprit of this heinous crime, and eventually landed on the culprit, who looked as ridiculously happy as ever. The mighty beast could be more loyal and trustworthy than any other in this world if it chose, but it had a dark side, oh yes. It could be malevolent, and evil, and vindictive if you wronged it and perhaps if you didn't. The canis lupus familiaris was to blame for the desecration around me, and my rage would have been swift and indefinite if I wouldn't have heard the deafening laughter booming through the area.
     Incredulity overtook my mind as I saw the overwhelmingly large guffaws were coming from my own family, the one group of people that was supposed to support and comfort me no matter what. Was the demolition of my life's work THAT comical?! The situation was only made worse when the wrecker himself trotted over to them, slobbering and barking through the rubble and getting more irritating laughter from them.
     I was at my breaking point; this kind of uncivilized, barbaric behavior was unacceptable and had to be dealt with properly to ensure it never happened again. My face gradually turned redder as I inhaled deeply and prepared myself for my one and only defense: throwing the biggest tantrum of the century.
     A shrill shriek emerged from the back of my throat, followed by a chorus of racking, uncontrollable sobs only I was capable of making in our house. If I had the necessary muscle control required to stand I would have done so, but alas, I was not fully grown and could not use my ridiculously small legs for anything but crawling. So I sat there, crying like the world was ending, especially when the fricking dog came back over to spite me once again by licking the torrential stream of tears off my face, and that's when I realized I was being filmed.
     The brightly-lit, hand-held box of wonders my mother was always using was out once again and aimed like a sniper rifle at me, the dog, and my wrecked tower made of wooden alphabet blocks. She was providing short bits of commentary every once in a while, I noticed, but it wasn't really words as much as peals of laughter. How could she do this to me? Was she going to use it to blackmail me once I was grown?? Was she secretly an extraterrestrial being from far beyond the known universe using me, her own son, to recreate the weapons of mass destruction her race needed to enslave our galaxy?!? I was ashamed and humiliated as she picked me up and set me in my crib for the night, and my mind was set on one thing: revenge.
     I crept out of my holding cell in the wee hours of the night, silent as the morning mist through the deep-set valleys, and crawled stealthily to the living room once more, this time with a plan and a secret ingredient I wasn't supposed to have, but acquired through many perilous journies up the kitchen counter to the infamous and off-limits "junk drawer". This time, I was ready. This time, I would not fail.
     After several hours of toiling over my new masterpiece, it was finally complete and finally daybreak. I heard the rushed pitter-patter of feet coming down the stairs in a flurry of panic when I couldn't be found in my crib, and soon enough my whole family was downstairs looking for me. Perfect. My sister found me first, her face morphing from relieved to confused to stunned. The rest of my relatives funneled in slowly, undergoing the same transformation in facial expression as they saw what I had created.
     More than fifty miniature buildings populated the middle of the living room, arranged in closely-packed rows around the labyrinth of streets winding through the area. As impressive as that was alone, that was not my crowning achievement. Standing six-and-a-half feet high and towering over the little city was a massive, fully-armed battle robot, complete with a cockpit prepared for yours truly. Just in case.
     I smiled a toothless grin as the familiar sound of the original destroyer came scampering into the room from the side entrance, charging at my new and improved creation. But this time I was ready, and so was my city.
     The dog bull-rushed at the buildings and I was elated to watch him bounce right off the skyline and land, unstable, a few feet away. The outlawed super glue worked like a charm, and I couldn't have been happier.
     As my family focused their attention on the cowering dog slinking to their spot between the kitchen and living room, I took my opportunity to show them the full power of my creation. Within seconds I had taken my rightful position inside my robot, watching with glee as they once again turned to witness my mental prowess in inventing, the shocked silence deepening even further.
     My spectacular killing machine took one step forward, then another, just slow enough to create the perfect amount of dramatic effect. Then, my tiny mouth opened, and I said my first words like a rising war hero giving a miraculous speech capable of waking the souls of the dead: "We have rebuilt."

(A/N: Okay, so this is the very first story!! If you aren't sure what happened, the main character is a baby whose block tower was knocked down by the family dog, and his family taped the reaction. I hope you liked it!!!!)