01-04-2019, 11:35 AM
As Day Follows Night Pt. 04
"Come on babies, grease your lips, grab your hats, and swing your hips.
And don't forget to bring your whips, we're going to the Freaker's Ball.
Blow your whistle, bang your gong. Roll up something to take along.
It feels so good, it must be wrong, we're freakin' at the Freaker's Ball."
-Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show, "Freakin' at the Freaker's Ball"
Troy's doorbell rang. When it wasn't immediately answered, it rang again. A series of short, quick rings followed. Troy ran to the door and opened it.
Helen stood on the dark, rain-splattered porch, her wet hair sticking to her face. Her bare feet were muddy and the torn, soaked pajamas she wore clung to her little shivering frame.
"H-hi, Troy. C-can I come in?"
"Yeah, ok," he said, with the obliviousness of an 8-year-old. "Uh, wipe your feet, please."
Troy let her in and shut the door behind her as a voice shouted from up the stairs.
"Troilus! Who is?"
"It's Helen, Propappou. You don't know her," he responded.
"I went to Julie's house, but nobody was home," Helen said as she wiped her bare feet on the mat. She got most of the mud off of them, but there was still enough on her feet to leave muddy footprints as she and Troy walked up the stairs to the living room.
"Our parents all went to a party; she's staying here tonight." They entered the living room and he called to the blanket fort "Hey, Julie, Helen's here."
"None shall enter the fortress of Princess Mesmera," said a voice from inside.
An old man wearing a red velvet smoking jacket walked into the room, his long, bushy beard hovering inches over the tray of pizza rolls and sausage, cheese, and crackers that he carried. "Hey, who you? Why you get dirt in..." He took in the sight of the wet 8-year-old in the ripped pajamas and set the tray down.
"Please, sir. I can't go back home."
"Oh, you Helena?"
The girl nodded, looking down at her feet and noticing for the first time that she was tracking mud. She immediately dropped to her knees and tried to wipe it up with her sleeve.
"Hey, hey, is all right, I get that. My name Byroni, everyone call me Propappou because I Troy's Propappou. Helena, is good Greek name. And you friend of Troy, so you friend of Propappou too, like Julie. Hey, you Helena, he Troy; it work!"
He went to hug the little girl, but stopped when he saw her flinch as he got close. "Oh! That why you no can go home. Well, you safe here now. Julie, get out of there. Run home and get some dry clothes and shoes for you friend. Jammies too, is sleepover. Troilus, show her to bathroom to wash feet and go get blanket. I make cocoa and do fireplace, then take care of mud."
The kids went about their tasks. As Troy took Helen to show her where the bathroom was, she stopped, turned around, and ran up and hugged the old man around the waist; soaking the leg of his pants.
"Thank you, Propappou. Nobody ever called me Helena before. It sounds nice."
"Then that what Propappou call you from now on. You go get clean and dry off, Helena. Of to be the cocoa when you done."
* * *
"Come on babies, grease your lips, grab your hats, and swing your hips.
And don't forget to bring your whips, we're going to the Freaker's Ball.
Blow your whistle, bang your gong. Roll up something to take along.
It feels so good, it must be wrong, we're freakin' at the Freaker's Ball."
-Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show, "Freakin' at the Freaker's Ball"
Troy's doorbell rang. When it wasn't immediately answered, it rang again. A series of short, quick rings followed. Troy ran to the door and opened it.
Helen stood on the dark, rain-splattered porch, her wet hair sticking to her face. Her bare feet were muddy and the torn, soaked pajamas she wore clung to her little shivering frame.
"H-hi, Troy. C-can I come in?"
"Yeah, ok," he said, with the obliviousness of an 8-year-old. "Uh, wipe your feet, please."
Troy let her in and shut the door behind her as a voice shouted from up the stairs.
"Troilus! Who is?"
"It's Helen, Propappou. You don't know her," he responded.
"I went to Julie's house, but nobody was home," Helen said as she wiped her bare feet on the mat. She got most of the mud off of them, but there was still enough on her feet to leave muddy footprints as she and Troy walked up the stairs to the living room.
"Our parents all went to a party; she's staying here tonight." They entered the living room and he called to the blanket fort "Hey, Julie, Helen's here."
"None shall enter the fortress of Princess Mesmera," said a voice from inside.
An old man wearing a red velvet smoking jacket walked into the room, his long, bushy beard hovering inches over the tray of pizza rolls and sausage, cheese, and crackers that he carried. "Hey, who you? Why you get dirt in..." He took in the sight of the wet 8-year-old in the ripped pajamas and set the tray down.
"Please, sir. I can't go back home."
"Oh, you Helena?"
The girl nodded, looking down at her feet and noticing for the first time that she was tracking mud. She immediately dropped to her knees and tried to wipe it up with her sleeve.
"Hey, hey, is all right, I get that. My name Byroni, everyone call me Propappou because I Troy's Propappou. Helena, is good Greek name. And you friend of Troy, so you friend of Propappou too, like Julie. Hey, you Helena, he Troy; it work!"
He went to hug the little girl, but stopped when he saw her flinch as he got close. "Oh! That why you no can go home. Well, you safe here now. Julie, get out of there. Run home and get some dry clothes and shoes for you friend. Jammies too, is sleepover. Troilus, show her to bathroom to wash feet and go get blanket. I make cocoa and do fireplace, then take care of mud."
The kids went about their tasks. As Troy took Helen to show her where the bathroom was, she stopped, turned around, and ran up and hugged the old man around the waist; soaking the leg of his pants.
"Thank you, Propappou. Nobody ever called me Helena before. It sounds nice."
"Then that what Propappou call you from now on. You go get clean and dry off, Helena. Of to be the cocoa when you done."
* * *
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