Boo!

8

You lower the hose. "Oh, hey, Mum. I was-"

You hesitate. It would be really weird to tell Mother that you were about to scrub your new 'friend' like he was some stray dog.

But you didn't need to answer. Blissfully unaware of the strangeness in the situation, Fleetway happily answers, "I was about to get a bath."

~Later~

"(insert name), I am shocked at you. You're old enough to know better than to have one of your friends shower outside."

You and Mom were sitting at the table, while Fleetway took a shower in the bathroom.

You quickly thought of a believable excuse. "Sorry, Mum. I thought you'd be upset if he came in the house. He would've tracked dirt."

"Yes, (insert name), that was obvious. But if that's an issue, either have him wipe his feet, or put bags over his shoes. Showering him off in the backyard is unacceptable."

Before you could respond-

"Um, the water's rising, what do I do!?" Fleetway shouted from the bathroom.

Mum quickly left to the bathroom.

As you sat by yourself, you thought about what happened the night before. What was that voice you heard? And why were you so comforted by a voice that you didn't recognize?

Actually... Thinking about it, the voice sounds a little familiar now. But last night, you couldn't have known who it was. So why now?

You thought more, then came to a startling thought.

No. Surely not.

...but could it have been-

"(insert name), could you bring me the blow-dryer?" Mom asks, interrupting your thoughts.

You grab Mom's hair-dryer and take it to the bathroom.

And when you get there, you're surprised to see Mom combing Fleetway's quills.

Finally, Mom sees you. "Thank goodness. Plug it up, please. I've got my hands full."

You plug up the hairdryer, and after about twenty minutes, Fleetway looked like a yellow Sonic. His quills were clean, combed, and dry.

And there was a mountain of loose quills on the floor.

"I'll vacuum this mess. Uh, (insert name), could you get your friend some socks? His old ones are ruined."

You nod and turn to Fleetway. "Come on, Fleetway. I'll-"

You're interrupted when Fleetway sniffles.

"Uh... Okay, as I was-"

"AH-CHOO!"

You're interrupted again when Fleetway let's out a sneeze, which causes his quills to stand out, undoing the twenty minutes of combing.

Mom sighs. "All that work for nothing. At Least he's still clean. Now, go on and get some socks."

Mom motions for you and Fleetway to leave.

You take Fleetway to your room, where you search a drawer for a pair of socks.

You take a look at your bed. It was still dirty. You look at Fleetway, who's taking a look at the lava lamp on your nightstand.

Just earlier today, Fleetway was filthy.

You woke up this morning, and your sheets were filthy.

"Fleetway," you call.

Fleetway quickly turns from the lamp. "Yes?"

"Do you notice anything weird about my bed?"