"well...now, I've a decision to make..."
"Pardon moi, Monsieur Jon...boot what...De-see-zhon...wood zat be?" the gorgeous, giggling French girl asked as she leaned over his shoulder, clearly desiring that he look down her massive cleavage. Babbette de Frou Frou really was interested in what he had to say - despite the dwindling of her intellect, she was a curious and friendly girl - but she was also horny has heck, and would be more focused after a nice, mid-afternoon romp in the Masters bed.
Jon spilled at her, kissing her left boob - which caused Babbette to giggle deliciously, and slip easily around to sit in his lap. The weight of her...the firm, sexual thrill as she squirmed and squealed against his erection...was as familiar to him as the sun and the stars. Thanks to his creation of the magic pencil, and his wish that no changes in reality caused by the pencil would be noticed by anyone...even him, Jon was entirely unaware that he'd already tested the pencil by transforming his once brilliant, best friend Karyn into the giggling, gushing French sex-object that sat in his lap. As far as Jon knew, he'd not yet tested the pencil...and never known anyone named Karyn. Instead, he loved his family's outlandishly proportioned domestic - a girl named Babbette de Frou Frou who had worked for him family for a year - and that was that.
"Well, Babbette...I used the stone to make this pencil, which I'm quite fond of now, and now I have to test it on something or someone. But...I want to make the right decisions."
"Hmmm..." mused Babbette, and even this looked cute an sexy. She tapped the tip of one crimson nail against her lower lip, and muttered in French...before brightening and saying "...why not write down ze truth as you know it on one side of ze paper, zen on zee o'zare side...write down zee changes you make? Zhen, you may zee an' zee true thing zat you do?"
For a silly, French Maid...it was a brilliant idea. Using the pencil alone, he could track what changes he made. But...how little we know of our fellow man. What he would write down first - thinking it the truth - would only be his opinions of the person to be changed. Thus, it could be wildly off the mark even though Jon thought it wasn't.
To test it, he asked Babbette to prance off and fetch his sister to him. He didn't want to change his sister, exactly, but he needed a test subject, and besides...he'd only write what he (guessed/assumed/thought) knew to be the truth.
Zoe entered his room, a frown on her black painted lips. She wore a typically depressing Goth outfit in black. with grey and red accents. She looked just as she always had to him.
"What do you want, Jon...and why did you send the family blow-up doll after me? The witless bimbo there isn't the boss of me, Jon. Now make this quick, will you? I've got things to do today, and don't have time for a lot of screwing around."
Jon frowned, and started writing his description as he felt it to be true. "My sister is a obviously a Goth. She is rude and obnoxious as heck, and clearly thinks of nothing but Goth stuff..."
Actually, Zoe was deeper than that. Most people are deeper than the thumbnail sketches we carry around in our own minds...
But now...Zoe wasn't Suddenly, her most hidden likes and desires - favorite cartoons from childhood, beloved poetry that her friends wouldn't understand and a deep affection for a couple of boy bands she liked when she was younger, and still listened to on her iPod sometimes...vanished. Because it was what her brother wrote down, thinking it to be the truth, she was now ONLY thinking about Goth stuff. Her mind was a blend of corpses, vampires, ravens, cemeteries and the most banal images of what the media called "Goth". Also - though she had simply been in a bad mood earlier - she was suddenly compulsively rude and obnoxious. Her body language shifted, and she planted her hands on her hips and hissed "Brother dear..." in a gloomy, snotty voice "...why are you disturbing my rest? I need to get out and take rubbings of headstones before popping XTC at the rave in the abandoned industrial park. That is, if my stupid fucking brother and his brainless blow-up doll of a girlfriend will give me a moments peace! I've got important shit to take care of..."
Jon looked down at what he'd written, and saw that it clearly described the hissing, bitchy girl before him. Unaware that his own mistaken notions about his sister had changed her into this shallow stereotype, he assumed his experiment had worked. He could certainly remember that his sister had always been this terrible girl.
So...he started to write again, this time to improve the creature he didn't realize he'd created...
