CFYC PLOT AND ROUGH DRAFTING

Clownanigans

At approximately four in the afternoon, Jon rolled just enough out of the badly kept futon to plop down on the floor and start his very, very late morning routine.
His son would be getting out of school any moment now, which meant he had a little extra time in the day to enjoy a nice cup of coffee on the couch before enlisting the resident alien in continuing the project.

First, he fed the mice, sprinkling food in all six bowls before making his way downstairs to start his own meal.
The usual, being half cooked cup ramen with a sizable slathering of curry paste seemed a perfect choice. But as time would allow it, he went instead for a traditional dish of upma.

Jon tossed the finished dish into a bowl and circled back into the living room to enjoy the moment of peace and quiet before a very loud bleating crashed through the front door along with a trombone, a clown, and Oliver.

"How did-"

BLART

"How did she get-"

BLAAAARRRRT

"Oliver, where did-"

BLAAAAARRRriiiiirrroorrppp

Oliver snatched the trombone out of Dindet's hand and crammed it off into the corner, shooting a glare at her before she could even try to pick it back up.

"She met a band kid today," he answered finally, just as the alien picked it back up to play with again.

"I can make it do really weird stuff!" She giggled, and pressed it up to her face, blowing as hard as possible. It created a terribly cacophonous noise that blorped up with a gurgle as a ginormous bubble rose up from the bell of the horn and popped, scattering little bits of sparkles and confetti on the three of them.

"You sound like a dying goose!" Oliver yelled through her blurts and bleats. She stopped, for one very brief moment and cocked her head.

"What's a goose?"

"Duck but worse." Oliver answered, taking the opportunity of distraction and stealing back the trombone from her. "You can have it back, but only if you play it in between."

Dindet shrugged, allowing him to hand it back to her so she could very promptly pop out of this dimension to occupy whatever insatiable need she had to make quite possibly the most god awful noise known to man.

As soon as she left, he slumped down on the couch next to his dad, rubbing his eyes with a little groan to relieve the headache he had. "She's been like that all day."

"You get along well though." His dad remarked, taking a bite from his upma and offering one to him.
Oliver obliged, and snagged a decent sized portion for himself before falling back to rest his head on the couch arm and his feet on his dad's lap.

"She doesn't listen to anything I say," he argued, "and if she does, she doesn't understand half of it!"

Oliver sat up, "today I had to stop her from melting on front of the whole class! And she nearly made me fail English because she could barely read our group report!"

"You're the one that taught her to read."

"That's not the point!" Oliver huffed, dramatically throwing his hands in the air, "the only reason she's any help is cause she got rid of Matt."

"And now she thinks that because she did something nice that she's not..." he trailed off for a bit, electing to roll over and face the television as opposed to his father, "she's still stupid."

"Well," Jon pat his son on the back and lifted his feet so he could get up. "Sucks for you, cause she's a great lab partner."

Oliver responded with a low grumble, and some inaudible negatives about the whole situation, but ultimately let the small slight go.