Greg was sitting on the steps when Brigid noticed him, happily blowing bubbles like always. His fluffy ears were swaying gently in the breeze, apparently to the tune of the music that was floating over the hill.

“When did you get here?” Brigid asked, putting the hockey stick back in her pocket so as not to disturb the parakeet.

“What do you mean?” sang Greg to the music. “I was here when you got here!”

“That music is really getting loud,” Brigid said. “And why are you a Care Bear?”

She opened her eyes and realized that it was actually Elton John singing; the blue-green glow of the alarm clock poked her in the eye.

“Fucking mornings,” she said, and rolled over in annoyance.

-The Gneech

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