Okay, so this is a thing that I've been writing since November 2012...and it's just pretty much a story I've been writing for fun, so it's super self-indulgent and definitely not worth any serious thought, but it makes me laugh every time I read back through it, so I thought I would share it with the world. I'm releasing it in chapters, so stay tuned if you like it!

(NOTE: "Bumantha" is just a placeholder name until I think of something better. If you have a suggestion, please let me know!)

CHAPTER ONE

A DECISION

Bumantha stirred her cereal idly. Everything was boring. I could tell you what the kitchen looked like, but that would be a waste of everyone's time because what really matters here is that Bumantha was really very truly mind-boggingly bored.

She put her bowl in the sink and left the kitchen. She got dressed, opened a window…to be honest, I don't think this is even worth telling you, so I'll just skip to the part where she decided to do something with her life.

Bumantha decided to do something with her life. She didn't know what, but she promised herself that it would be incredible. She went outside. Halfway to the coffee shop, she realized that the coffee shop was not incredible enough, turned around, and headed for the park. Nobody was there.

Okay, so I lied. One person was there. Well, two if you count Bumantha, which I guess you should…but anyway, back to the story.

The person who wasn't Bumantha walked up to her. Did I mention Bumantha was sitting on a bench? Well, she was.

"Hey," said the person, whose name was Beefycheese McGoogle, "Wanna go get doughnuts?"

"Sure," Bumantha replied. Doughnuts weren't exactly incredible, but they were a step up from coffee. The stranger started walking toward the road, and Bumantha followed.

The doughnut shop was five blocks away, but Beefycheese McGoogle clearly preferred to walk.

I also might have lied when I told you that the person's name was Beefycheese McGoogle, but if you believed that in the first place, you're an idiot. Her name was actually Marsha, but Bumantha didn't know that yet.

"I'm Bumantha," said Bumantha.

"Oh."

They walked in silence. They were almost there.

"What's your name?" Bumantha asked.

"Marsha."

Now that they knew each other's names, they could locate each other in large crowds. Bumantha looked around. There were no large crowds nearby.

They reached the doughnut shop, and Marsha ordered three-dozen chocolate doughnuts. Or maybe it was four-dozen…I forget. Either way, it was far too many doughnuts for Bumantha's taste.

"That's a whole lot of doughnuts, Marsha," Bumantha mumbled disapprovingly. "In fact," she continued, "one might even go so far as to say," her eyes widened, "it's an incredible amount!"

"What's that?" said Marsha through a mouthful of doughnut.

"Oh, nothing," Bumantha soothed, "I'm just having a different day."

"Me too, Bumantha, and I'm about to make mine even better." A thought occurred to Marsha, and she gasped, "How would you like to be a part of my day, and possibly the next couple of thousand days?"

Bumantha thoughtfully took a bite of doughnut. "Hmm, yeah, okay."

"Great!" squealed Marsha, slapping her hands on the counter, "Let's go!" She threw some money at the clerk, grabbed Bumantha's arm, and dragged her back out to the sidewalk.

Bumantha swallowed her pastry. "What about the —"

"Forget the doughnuts!" Marsha cried with excitement, "Follow me!" She broke into a run, and Bumantha struggled to keep up. Marsha veered around a corner, and Bumantha made it just in time to see her new friend duck into the hospital. Bumantha entered breathlessly. Now here was a large crowd. The room was white, but still filthy. The double doors in the back would have been glossy if it weren't for all the greasy fingerprints on it. Everyone sat, pale and sickly, and nobody moved.

"Marsha!" Bumantha called, glad that she had learned the name. No response. She looked around, but only saw people who were not Marsha.

Bursting through the double doors, Marsha rushed toward Bumantha. She was carrying something about the size of a baby alpaca wrapped in bedsheets. "Marsha, wha —" Bumantha stumbled back through the front door as Marsha crashed into her.

"Come on!" the woman called over her shoulder, running up the street.

This time Bumantha had an easier time keeping up with her. Whatever she was carrying slowed Marsha down tremendously.

"Where is your house?" Marsha demanded.

Confused but excited, Bumantha took the lead, huffing and puffing toward her apartment.

The women burst into the living room, and Marsha dropped her bed sheet-wrapped cargo on the couch. It groaned.

Bumantha cringed, "What is that thing?"

Marsha uncovered the form to reveal a very pale, very skinny 6 year old child.

"Oh my god!" Bumantha screeched, "You stole a child from a hospital?"

"Of course not," Marsha cooed, "We stole a child from a hospital."

Bumantha started pacing, pulling at her greasy hair. This was bad. Very bad. "Jesus Christ, what are we going to do?"

"I told you, my name is Marsha."

The child coughed.

"You shut up! You shut up right now!" Bumantha yelled, pointing emphatically at the child's head. She whirled toward Marsha, her oily mane slapping against her face, "And you! What the heck, dude, are you insane? You can't just steal a child from a hospital!"

Marsha scoffed, "First of all, you really need to take a shower, and secondly, I did just steal a child from a hospital, so it's not like it's impossible or anything."

"Excuse me," the child choked.

"SHUT UP!" the women screamed.

Bumantha started pacing again, breathing hard. "What are we going to do? What were you thinking?"

The child burbled miserably, and Bumantha shot him a warning glance.

"I thought you agreed to share a really fun day, and maybe even the next thousand days, with me!" Marsha whined.

"I didn't think that involved stealing children from hospitals!"

"This is one child, Bumantha. I thought it would be fun!"

"Well it isn't!"

The kid opened his mouth weakly.

"I swear to God, if you say so much as one word, I will hit you," Bumantha threatened.

The child spewed vomit all over the couch.

"JESUS HARRIET SUSAN CHRIST!" Bumantha shouted, "MY COUCH!"

"My stomach!" squeaked the boy.

"We have to take him back to the hospital," said Bumantha, wiping at the vomit with an old sweater.

"No!" cried Marsha, "He's ours now!"

"Okay, we need to take our child to the hospital!"

"I'm not your kid," spat the boy.

"You shut your mouth," Bumantha hissed.

Marsha dragged the bookcase in front of the door. "We're not going anywhere."

"Oh, for the love of – you're scratching the floor!" Bumantha howled.

The boy started hacking again. Marsha threw a book at him. Bumantha grabbed Marsha's arm. Marsha grabbed Bumantha's hair, but it was so filthy, she had to let go. Screeching and scratching, they clawed at each other as the child lurched around on the couch.

I'm not going to go into detail here, but it's safe to say that this was the most intense fight to occur in Bumantha's apartment building that day. Seriously, it lasted for like, ten minutes, and when the women finally got up from the floor and looked over at the boy, they were relieved to see that he was no longer convulsing. In fact, he wasn't doing much of anything. Especially breathing.

"Oh my god," Bumantha breathed, "Is he...dead?"

Marsha checked his pulse. "God damn it," she growled, "he is." She gave an exasperated sigh and looked at the ceiling.

Bumantha ran her fingers through her hair and inhaled through her teeth.

"Don't do that!" said Marsha, "It's greasy enough!"

"He's dead," yelped Bumantha.

"Eh, it was bound to happen."

"Yeah, but not now!"

"Well, what can you do?"

"We should have left him at the hospital!"

"Hindsight is always 20/20."

Bumantha stamped her foot. "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

Marsha stamped her foot. "TAKE A GODDAMN SHOWER!"

Bumantha was shaking with anger and panic. "Please," she pleaded, "just go."

Marsha raised her eyebrows. "Promise you'll take a shower?"

"Yes, yes, I promise."

Marsha brightened. "Okay!" she chirped, "I'll see you tomorrow." She grabbed the boy by the ankle and dragged him off the couch and toward the door. "Ta!" she called over her shoulder as she went. She tried to close the door behind her, but the child's head was in the way.

Once they were gone, Bumantha locked the door and exhaled. She headed for the shower and dreaded tomorrow.