"Uh…hey…Paxton…I need you to take me to the hospital, or a good plastic surgeon," said a quiet, and quite frightened female voice from behind a wall, peering her eyes into her twin's room.

"And why, dear sister…should I do that?" he asked in a rather mocking tone.

"I don't wanna say. Just take me. Just drive, drop me off, and leave. Please," she said, keeping her deep blue-grey eyes on his light green eyes.

"No. Why would I take you to get your nose redone or whatever just so we won't look alike anymore. No. No. Gimme one good reason," he demanded, glaring at the set of eyes in the doorframe.

She grumbled and half-shouted, stomping one foot. "Fine! Only if you promise to take me!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure you're overreacting. What is it? A huge forehead zit?"

The girl shifted over step by step until she was in full view of her brother. Protruding from her forehead was not a pimple at all. It was something much more…unnatural, even for a teen going through puberty. What was sticking out of the girl's forehead was a small shoot of bamboo, tipped with parsley. "This is so not a zit!"

Her brother stared at her, his eyes growing wide. His hand slowly rose to his mouth, and he clamped over his lips, trying as hard as he could to physically force the laugh in his throat back down. It was, of course, to no avail. Bits of giggling and chuckling were leaking through the space between his fingers like a crack in a dam. A slow leak starts, which then leads to more, and then more, until it all overflows out into the open. Laugher burst from his mouth, and continued to flow until he saw tears start to well up in his sister's eyes. "It's not funny!" she demanded, stomping her foot for emphasis.

"How is it not funny?! How'd you get such good superglue? Wait…why'd you superglue bamboo to your face?" he asked, after his laughter subsided.

"I didn't! I woke up this morning…and, and it was just there!" she whined, gently fingering the tip of it. "What…what is that?" she asked, moving her head in a rather odd fashion, trying to get a look at the tip of the three inch shoot of bamboo.

"C'mere Skyla. Lemme see that…that thing," Paxton said, motioning with his fingers for her to enter his room.

She nodded weakly, and made the slow process inward, stepping carefully over dirty sock balls and video games. She took a seat on the very tip of his mattress; the only part that had sheets on it at the moment. Paxton was sitting in his broken-and-taped computer chair in front of his computer, feet propped up on the desk (which was also taped at the corner, for unknown reasons). He dropped his feet quickly, and leaned in close to his sisters' face, staring at the bamboo. He gently touched it, and then pulled his hand back, as if the thing would bite. He reached out once more, and grabbed hold of it close to her forehead, and started to pull as hard as he could.

"Ouch! What's wrong with you? That's attached to me!" she shouted, frantically slapping at his hand that was gripping her bamboo zit.

"Hey, hey, stop hitting me!" he demanded, pulling his arms up across his face, predicting her next move as her hand met his nose with quite a bit of strength.

"Stop pulling on my…my…whatever it is!" she demanded, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Bamboo and parsley."


"You referred to it as 'whatever it is', and it happens to be a small shoot of bamboo, tipped with parsley."


Paxton nodded, and quickly stood up, "Well, we gotta go call Mom home from her "business trip" and tell her what happened."

Skyla went rigid, and her eyes grew wide. "No! You cannot tell anyone about this, understand?! Take me to a surgeon, right this instant!" she screeched, jumping to her feet, and stomping on a plastic toy.

"Hey! Watch where you step!" he ordered.

She looked down, and under her shoe. "Oh, it's just a stupid doll."

Her brothers eyes widened, and then narrowed in a split second. "Just a doll? One, it's an action figure! And two, those are gonna be worth millions one day! You're throwing money away! Watch your step, or I won't take you to the hospital."

"You better take me to the hospital, or I'll step on more of your dolls!" she countered.

"It's an action figure!" he shouted, throwing the nearest object at his sister. It so happened to be a box of paper clips.

She gasped, ducked, and then pointed at him, and remarked loudly, "Ha! You missed!"

"Do you two ever shut up?!" a deep voice asked, coming from somewhere in the room.

"Who said that?" both asked simultaneously.

"Wasn't me!" both responded.

"I always knew you had a slave hidden away somewhere in your room. You have everything else!" Skyla muttered softly to her brother, her eyes scanning the room. She tucked her long black hair behind her ears, so she could get a better look around.

Her brother rolled his eyes, and ran his fingers through his equally black hair, although his was stylishly messy, and long as far as guy's hair goes. He went over every little object, every crease and crevice from his position. "There!" he said, pointing to an empty box of crackers.

"That's just an empty box," she stated, picking the box up, peering inside.

"What kind of kid keeps an empty box of anything in his room, huh?" the box answered.

Skyla yelped, and threw the box against the wall. Out fell a small person, with wings. "Is that a faerie?" she asked, dreamy eyed, trying to get a better look.

"Nawh, that's too ugly to be a faerie," her brother answered.

"Hey! You, shut up!" the flying creature demanded. "I am a faerie, thank you very much!"

Skyla leaned in over the hovering faerie, and stared at him. He was rather tall, slim, had thick rimmed black glasses, black slacks, white shirt, and a black tie. He had dark hair, dark eyes, which only made his pale skin seem even paler. He adjusted his glasses with one finger, and smiled. "Hello! Thank you for your attention, finally. I know that sibling rivalry can be difficult to deal with, but, please, bear with me. I can tell you what happened to your lovely forehead, if you promise to help me."

"Who are you?" Skyla asked, taking a risk and kneeling on her brothers' bedroom floor.

"Why, I'm the paper clip faerie," he responded, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.