Bittybones Chapter 7: Pros at Cons (part 7)
We spent the next few hours at BittyCon focusing on food, fashion, and fun. I found a much nicer merchant selling quality leather clothing and accessories for bittybones of all sizes. Brassy Bean picked out a new silver-studded jacket, and Red got a gorgeous oxblood leather collar without being hassled about his bitty type.
After even more table browsing (and a few additional purchases), we munched our way through the food court, trying a little bit of fried everything while nouveau fashion icons Red and Brassy leaned out of my purse, desperately clambering for attention from passersby.
(you mean our adoring fans)
I discussed possible names for the new Kara bitty with him over powdered sugar-dusted funnel cake and tropical fruit smoothies. Together, we decided on Corvus, the Latin word for raven. Red and Brassy were more interested in trying a spicy wing challenge than choosing names, and despite my many, many unheeded warnings, my two very competitive bittybones squared off with a drumette each, drenched in a sauce that made my eyes water just from smelling it!
(Pfft, you're just a spice wimp, Momma!)
(yea, tough guys like us can handle the heat!)
Brassy and Red chowed down like tiny, ravenous wolves⌠and immediately regretted it.
(My whole body burned)
(i was dying)
I actually had to strip both of my bittys down and bathe them in milk provided by the wing shop as a courtesy to remove the sauce and soothe the full-body burning sensation. With their pain relieved, Brassy and Red went right back to squabbling, namely arguing over who won their spicy wing competition.
(I won. I ate more of it!)
(you also threw it up all over the table)
I quietly reassured Corvus that Buttons behaved better than both of his brothers combined, but the newly-adopted bitty seemed to be amused by the other two bittysâ antics. He'd have a lifetime to get tired of their constant shenanigans, so I simply responded to his indulgent smile with one of my own.
Knowing that Brassy and Red would never settle their argument (because i won) (No, I won!), I distracted them with a different activity. One of the convention tables featured a Bittybones Treasure Hunt where bittys could dig around in brightly colored sand and find shiny polished crystals. I knew my boys would love it.
Red claimed a corner of the sandbox and several shovels to painstakingly excavate, but Brassberry took a different approach. He crouched down on all fours and scooped sand with both hands like an enthusiastic puppy. Sand flew everywhere, including across the invisible line separating Redâs territory from Brassyâs.Using his shovel like a catapult, Red launched a counterattack.
At first, I was mortified by the behavior, but the person in charge of the table waved me away, telling me to let the boys have their fun. He told me it was the most entertaining thing heâd seen all day. A crowd gathered to watch my two bittys wage war over a small wooden box of sand, the polished stones forgotten, flung aside in favor of more gritty ammunition. I heard a small koo from my shoulder. Corvus laughed uproariously at the spectacle, and I soon joined him.
Time expired on Red and Brassyâs Treasure Adventure, and the attendant carefully separated and bagged the stones that each of my bittys had unearthed⌠and mostly scattered across the floor. Red and Brassy climbed back into my purse to count and compare their prizes, animosity forgotten as they admired their loot.
(i found more)
(Mine were bigger)
The convention would be ending soon, and I still had an unfinished errand, or rather, two unfinished errands. I headed back into the adoption area, and Red and Brassy tensed and fell silent. Weâd all sat down and discussed the plans for today before we even left the house this morning, but hearing about adopting more bittybones and actually picking them out were two very different experiences.
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