2005-02-08 - 7:16 p.m.
Gweenie carries water to the glowing pot. After pouring it in, she watches the steam roll into the air. The sounds from the figure rolled up in an afghan on the couch go from a chainsaw to a light rattle.
"Tank you, little one..."
Tears form in Gweenie's big green eyes. She is often afraid when this happens in the castle. The cold, mucky winter days and those things called germs often get to her friend's lungs. She is left to ponder how lungs work and how water gets in the air and why breathing water makes a sick land creature feel better. Those are great mysteries that humans seem to have a better grasp on at times like these. "You want... a Popsicle?" she asks.
"Yesssssss...." hisses the Phantom. "Ice is nice."
Gweenie scrambles off to the kitchen to talk Kizzy into helping her open the giant cold box. She selects two of the ice sticks and hurries off to the "sick room."
"Me gots one too!" She perches on the arm of the couch and one at a time she peels the paper. "One fer you and one fer me. Kizzy no like ice."
"Heh... so right you are and tanks again," is all the Phantom says. She eats the Popsicle and deposits the stick in a coffee cup. Shortly she will return to sleep and the rattled breathing. "You are a true green friend," she says as she drifts off and Gweenie is left to worry and fret.
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The Phantom's
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