A Picnic on the Mir

I sat up as light began to stream through my curtains, filling my bedroom with sunlight. “Harry, what time is it?” I asked my clock. “Seventeen minutes passed five, miss!” As soon as he had finished his sentence, I pulled my pillow over my eyes and rolled over. “I’m going back to sleep! It’s too early to do anything and I just can’t be bothered.”
As I woke up for the second time, I asked once again what the time was; not daring to open my eyes to lose my tiredness in case I needed to go back to sleep once more. “Miss, it’s a quarter past eleven. I think you should get up. Yesterday you told me to make sure you weren’t late for your mother, and I think you may be at this rate.” Oh. God. I have to meet my mother at half past, and she does NOT like it if I’m even a minute late.
I rushed out the door, pulling my watch on as I went. I pulled some random clothes out of my chest, hoping that they didn’t clash hideously and put them on as fast as I could. As soon as my shoes were even remotely on, I started out the door to meet my mother at the lake for a picnic.
“It’s eleven thirty-two, miss. Your mother isn’t going to be happy with you!” I heard my watch whisper as I strode up to where she was sitting, admiring the fish. I tried to quietly sit down and pretend she was so mesmerised by them that she didn’t notice me arrive, but classic me fell over with a loud thud.
“And what time do you call this?” She demanded. Feeling annoyed already, I snapped, “Well I call it eleven thirty, but you probably call it something different.” If looks could kill, the one she gave me definitely would have caused the picnic area to become a crime scene. “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.” was her response.
Before I could do anything else wrong, I sat down and put a sandwich in my mouth to prevent me from saying anything. As I put it in my mouth I heard my watch say “Nicely done, miss. Just be careful, please.” I chuckled as I lowered my hands back down to my lap a small smirk adorned my lips.
“So, have you done anything useful with your life yet?” I don’t know how my mother doesn’t realise that she is a clichéd typical pressuring elven parent. “No, mum. Just because I don’t run my own successful business doesn’t mean I’m doing nothing with my life. Caring for the Moonlight Sycamore is a perfectly acceptable job to anyone else!”
“Yes, but I want to be able to tell my friends that my daughter is doing something amazing, not just looking after some old tree that people vandalise and get knocked up under.” I felt my face heat up. I couldn’t say anything without being rude, so I stayed silent and finished my sandwich.
After I felt my face begin to cool down I looked at my watch. “A quarter past twelve, miss.” I heard it mutter. Unable to bear any more of my mother criticising my life choices I got up, brushed the sandwich crumbs off of my horrible outfit, and said “Sorry mum, I’d best be off. My house isn’t going to clean itself!”
As I walked off I heard my watch say, “That was a truly awful excuse, you know.” It was, but I would do anything to get away from that horrible picnic, even if there was a delicious pudding.