Here's another instalment on the toilet story. I'm kicking around titles for this since it seems to actually be going places - The Toilet at the End of the Universe was one idea, Monsters Bog was another. If you have one you'd like, post it in the comments.
Usual warnings - first draft, no strong language, things may change.
Jason was cooking pancakes for breakfast when he heard Emily chatting away to someone in the hall. Tabs was upstairs trying to find Sarah's Guinea pig, which had attempted The Great Escape during feed time the night before. Both adults had a nagging suspicion the satisfied look on the cat's face this morning had nothing to do with the cream in her bowl.
"Are you visiting for the day? Have you seen my dolls? I've got one looks just like you, and she lets me plait her fur. What colour ribbon would you like?"Jason shoved the pan off the heat and ran.
There is a certain look of helpless terror most adults get when accosted by a babbling, determined child. Jason realised that particular look transcends the species barrier when the werewolf currently occupying the loo looked up at him in mute appeal. Emily was plaiting its toe hair, tying the results off with various coloured ribbons.
So far she was four toes in, and the werewolf looked like it had stepped in a Rastafarian.
Jason looked at the little cardboard tube the creature was clutching.
"Ooooaaar," the werewolf whimpered.
"Right," Jason said. He looked down at Emily, who'd finished the left foot and was eyeing a hairy knee speculatively. "I'm so sorry," he told it, and bolted for the hall cupboard.
He grabbed a roll of super-strength triple-ply, closed the door, then opened it again, plucked the rose air-freshener from the shelf, and ran back.
The werewolf now had eight plaited toes and a braided knee-cap. Emily held up a ribbon, and the werewolf eyed the selection, then pointed to one.
"Pink sparkles?" Jason asked. "Really?"
"Dad!" Emily said. "It's pretty!"
The werewolf shrugged and nodded.Jason sighed and handed over the air-freshener and toilet roll.
"Arroooooarr!" The werewolf hesitated, then patted Emily gently on the head before Jason hauled her out of the way and closed the door.
Flush. Spray. Whistle. Silence.
Jason leaned against the wall with his loudly protesting daughter in his arms, and closed his eyes.