“Look,” Geoffrey said, pointing towards a copse of trees about 600 meters away. The green of their leaves shone brighter in the sun that shone, seeming to single out these trees amongst the cool shade of the woods surrounding them.
“No, Geoffrey,” Hannah protested, stamping her right foot, her hands curled in fists at her sides. “You will not drop trou and piss in the woods. I will not have it.”
“Aren’t I supposed to be the bossy one? I’m the boy, and I’m older.”
But it had always been this way. It was difficult to resist someone who was so opinionated and certain when you were an aimless waffler.
Speaking of waffles…
“What is that delicious smell?” Hannah asked, her nostrils widening as she breathed deep.
“What do you care? You don’t eat – anything, really, as far as I can tell.”
Hannah shrugged. “True. But baked goods means that there is probably someone nearby. Perhaps in a lovely little cottage.”
“Lovely little cottage? Have you been watching those Jane Austen movies again or something? We live in the 21st century, not the 19th. Also, have you seen those hairstyles? You could never pull that off.”
“No one could. That’s why they wore bonnets. Or hats? I don’t know – something that covered their head.”
“That’s about the level of eloquence I expect from you.”
“I would kick you, but it might cause you to piss yourself.”
“Thank god for Oprah; I might not be alive anymore if you weren’t a germophobe.”
“…Hello children.” The voice broke through their fighting, despite having a fragile, bitter quality that should have been easy to ignore. Its’ owner looked equally frail, and was waving a hand with gnarled, knobby fingers at them, smiling at them with a mouth filled with crooked, yellow teeth.
“Hello,” Geoffrey said politely.
“You must be tired, if you have walked all the way out here to my cottage. Please help yourself to my house.” The gnarled fingers skimmed along the windowledge, and the siblings realized it was gingerbread. The entire house, in fact, was gingerbread, decorated with thick white icing, windows spun from sugar.
“Please. Eat,” The elderly woman prompted again, but both of them declined.
“That’s sweet, but I’m on a diet,” Hannah said.
“Diabetic,” Geoffrey said ruefully, shrugging his shoulders.
“Although, if you don’t mind, we would love to use your bathroom,” Hannah continued. She had begun feeling the pressure from her own bladder for the last few minutes, and was relieved to think that she would not have to walk all the way back to the car without relief.
“Bathroom? How would I get plumbing to work in a dessert house?” The witch replied, furrowing her brow in disbelief.
“I don’t know. How do you prevent the bugs and birds from eating it?” Hannah retorted, her bladder pressing ever more urgently.
“I don’t. It’s just fresh baked. Look, here they come now.” A line of ants was creeping up towards the windowpane from which the witch had greeted them.
“Well, what are we supposed to do?” Hannah asked, certain the woman was holding out on them. “Our car has got to be at least 2 miles away!”
The elderly woman shrugged. “Use the trees like everyone else?”
As the two hangry females had been arguing, Geoffrey had crept behind a nearby tree and done just that. Hannah refused.
So it was that two hours later, two lost little children came upon a restroom in the woods. They ran inside, only to find themselves caught in a trap once they had relieved themselves. And Hannah and Geoffrey came upon their car, having been lost only once, which was a full four miles from their encounter. Hannah would discover she had a urinary tract infection the next day, and Geoffrey would secretly revel in the fact that he had not solely been her lemming, and he did not.