This was an English II assignment. We had to write a story that contained a purse with chosen objects from a list given to us. This is what came out of it. I'm just glad she understood my oddness.

Don't Blame Pickle, It's Just A Suicidal Weasel

Lucy Sullivan wasn't your average fifteen-year-old. Her interests and hobbies weren't guys and music, but cracking frozen winter puddles in the potholes of the alley behind the grocery store with her mary janes and collecting torn up and lost pictures of people from beneath photo booths. She hated goldfish and lollipops, and loved untwisting wire hangers and the sound water makes when it swirls down a semi-clogged drain. She preferred inventing names and personalities for strangers, instead of having friends. Inventing people that she'd never know always appealed to her more than putting up with the real thing. The only person she could really tolerate was her mother, which was why she was spending her after school time where she was.

On this certain Tuesday, Lucy was sorting through the lost and found at her mothers' office building that no one knew existed except for her and the janitors. It was in a drab and disgusting room with cement walls and stacks of cleaning products that emitted fumes worse than her mother's tuna casserole once it had been in the refrigerator for a month and a half. But, at the moment Lucy was searching for her mother's misplaced purse, so she didn't have a choice in the matter.

"Ah ha!" She exclaimed holding up a black object in triumph, "Your like a pesky little weasel that's secretly suicidal aren't you?"

Slinging the item over her shoulder, she dashed out of the room, shut the door, and took in a breath of not-quite-so-cleaning-solution-polluted- air-but-still-enough-to-be-overly-clean-and-make-you-gag-office-air.

Quickly she reached into her pocket and pulled out a tarnished pocket watch.

"Cripes, it's almost eight, mom's gonna be gnashing her teeth when she figures out I've been gone so long! Now what kind of food was I supposed to get, Chinese, Japanese, Frenchese.Mexican! That's the one! M'kay, now the directions were with the money in her wallet, in the front pocket of this thing."

She hurriedly unzipped the pocket and started digging though, eventually dropping to the floor to search though it.

Pulling out a waded up tissue her eyes widened, "Yuck, Mum, I hope that's not used.hmm, a hairbrush, lipstick, Vintage Wine, now there's a color that sounds like you. A quarter, yeah, that'll buy dinner." Lucy's hand searched some more, but found nothing else. She held it up to her eye and saw nothing inside. She turned it upside down and shook, but nothing came out. It was the pesky weasel all over again.

"Must've just put it in the other pocket, memory's slipping, can't blame everything on the cat, poor Pickle, always his fault."

Reaching in the larger pocket she pulled out a bright pink toothbrush.

"What the yellow duck is this in here for? And blue tights, really now, what does she need those for; she hates tights in the first place and doesn't wear blue! Mum, you're really getting fruity on me, aren't you? Oh My! Disturbingly bizarre, a package of colored feathers, perhaps this isn't mum's purse, oh please don't let it be mum's purse!"

A couple pieces of gum, a paperclip, two dollars, and a man's business card later, Lucy stumbled upon a torn out page from a telephone book, with an ad circled that was beginning to make her paranoid about this purse.

"A 'gentlemen's club'? Oh mum, please let this be some stripper or hooker's purse hired by one of the men here and not yours!" She pulled out a spoon and immediately threw it into the pile of things beside her, "I don't think I even want to know.bad thoughts bad thoughts bad thoughts, yuck!"

Then her hand found the end and a now empty bag. Her eyes found nothing, and her shaking tossed nothing out. So she tossed the bag against the wall and sat thinking of how disturbing her mothers purse was. That was until she noticed the object that had skittered out of the black leather bag. She quickly crawled over to it and picked it up off the polished marble.

A Titanium MasterCard, "Shiny." Lucy bent it back and forth amused by its small holographic square until her eyes were drawn to something else.

"Delilah Davies." Suddenly Lucy jumped up and started spinning in circles and singing the Halleluiah Chorus at the top of her lungs.

"Yes, yes, yes! It's some random sleazy hooker and not my mum! The weasel is dead! Woohoo!"

Packing the items back in the purse Lucy put it back in the 'Lost and Found' and smiled as she passed a janitor on her way back to her mother's office. She was practically skipping and had forgotten the trouble she would soon be in. She didn't even notice the scandaly clad platinum blond walk in and ask that very same janitor about a lost purse.