I'm still writing, but not drawing. 5 major school projects are due this week, 2 upcoming tests, and 3 quizzes, so I have no time to draw. The story continues.

Perspective:still Lyssie.

I took Mothy into the frozen-food aisle and searched until I found what I was looking for: stacks of microwavable pizzas. "Pick one," I told Mothy. She looked amazed and thrilled over such a small thing that for the moment I was glad I'd taken this risk. "I want it with all the toppings," she reminded me. I smiled. That whole joke came from my brother, Henry, a couple years previously. He was six and I was thirteen at the time. Mom never let us order pizza. It wasn't healthy, she said, and we had to be in top physical condition. But one night, during a storm, the power went out while she was trying to cook dinner. Frustrated and tired, she told us we could get pizza. For some reason, Henry said he wanted all the toppings on his. Mom and the pizza guy tried to talk him out of it, but he was adamant. Finally Mom said, "Fine. Make him a slice with all the toppings." When the pizza came, one slice was piled high with stuff, some of which didn't seem like it should ever be on pizza. It was a giant mound of disgustingness, and predictably, Henry refused to eat it. "You wanted it. You said you wanted all the toppings," Mom reminded him. And then Mothy, four at the time, asked if she could try it. Henry passed her the plate. None of us thought she'd even take a second bite, much less eat the whole thing. But that's what she did. She took a fork, dug in, and ate it all, with the family watching in disbelief. Even the peppers that were so spicy that I couldn't handle them. "She's gonna puke," predicted Henry, but all she did was let out a satisfied garlic burp in his face. In later years, even she couldn't believe she'd eaten that. And the pizza story made family history. Well, I thought, I couldn't get her all the toppings, but I could get the pizza. Of course, we didn't have a microwave, but it'd probably be better over a campfire anyway. Didn't Mom always say that microwaves killed nutrition? Mothy pulled open a door and stood on her tiptoes, reaching for a box. It was weird, but as soon as her hand touched the green cardboard, I knew without a doubt that I should have forgotten pizza and left. We'd been lucky not to have been caught earlier, and I shouldn't have pushed our luck. Seeing her fingers on that green cardboard was like the calm before a storm, and I felt like the human who watched all the animals flee and didn't follow them. And now, the moment before the storm would hit, it was too late. Before I could say anything, Mothy was pulling the pizza box from the stack. At the end of the aisle, a group of people in red suits appeared. My heart slammed into my ribcage as I turned to the other end of the aisle. It was blocked by red-clad people, too. The metaphorical storm hit then, and all hell broke loose.

Yes, the story's finally picking up. That took a while.