Gonga slouched in his chair, staring out the window of his apartment. He looked away, blinking at the dancing bits of darkness imprinted by the sun. He was bored. So, so bored. He had survivled his trip to South Dakota and now he was just waiting for Derick to show up again. Waiting for Derick to come crashing through the doors with his energy and spunk and a whole boatload of new adventure stories to share.
A page flapped in the breeze of the fan rotating above.
Gonga glanced down. It was an old, old textbook about horticulture. He guessed it was copyright 1972 based on the design on the cover.
Horticulture.
Now there was an idea!
Gonga bent down and stripped a page out of the book. It had pictures of some sort of roses on both sides. He bent it between his fingers, swiftly crumpling and shaping the paper. The red splotches blended together with the black and white text, creating a mottled surface for the flower petals that began to appear between his hands.
The next couple hours were a flurry of tearing and shaping and cutting and pasting and more tearing. Gonga paused to admire the boquet of Cowslips that rose out of the glass in front of him. Then he started working on something a bit more complicated. Roses.
Before he knew it, his eyes were straining in the dark to see the next page. Gonga blinked. Had the day really flown by so fast?
OK, time to put away the flowers and go enjoy the outdoors while the sun way gone.
Actually, no! Don't put the flowers away. What was he thinking!?! He knew exactly where to take them. He grinned broadly and set out.
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