--> BEST IN SHOW

“Don Perambulator the third, stop taking your bow off!” Io insisted, grasp just failing to catch the Harpup as it rolled away for what must have been the twentieth time that hour. Doing his best to suppress a giggle, he reached forward to grab the discarded cyan fabric, before pushing himself up to his feet to begin a leisurely ‘chase’ after the mischievous imp. Laughing would only encourage it’s antics, but how could he not? There was something rather endearing in the Harpup’s tricks, no matter how much longer it made every task.

Things were even worse - or better, depending on how you looked at it - with three of them. Io had no time to dodge as he was tumbled into, letting out a huff of air on his way down. The second Harpup stared down inquisitively at him, watching the bun roll over onto his back and stare up at it with a bemused eyebrow raise.

“And where is your bow, Bloppersnorf?” he asked, head turning to try to search the room from his floor position. A squeak emanated from Galumphing Bloppersnorf Jr. as it nudged it’s head into Io’s side, returning his attention to it.

One hand reached out to idly pet it’s black fuzz as he sat up, finally eyeing the yellow bow tucked under a pile of unfolded doll clothes. Ah, that pile. Freshly washed - if a week ago still counted as fresh - and waiting to be put away. He made a mental note to get around to sorting it out, pretending that he didn’t know that thought would disappear as soon as his mind was off it. With a small groan of effort, he pulled himself back up to his feet, ambled over to the pile to pick up the yellow bow, turned around to find his Imps - and promptly forgot about the clothes.

“At least you’re well-behaved, Mosey,” Io mused, approaching the third of his Harpups, Mosey the Magnificent. It posed proudly, showing off it’s magenta bow, and trilled happily as the bun pet it’s head, pressing up and nuzzling into his hand. “I could win all the awards if your implings were like you.”

Implings, of course, being his made-up word for his Harpup’s relationships with each other. Technically, they were just all together when he found them, there was no evidence they came from the same…wherever Imps came from. As with everything else he was taught, it had gone in one ear and right out the other. But Io found them first, and the Harpups weren’t about to start speaking in a language he understood. So they were implings.

His quiet musing was broken by a sudden shriek, causing him to jump back into the present - literally, hopping in place as he startled and focused. No longer was Mosey poised elegantly in front of him. Instead, it was tumbling over on the ground, with Don and Bloppersnorf rolling right after it. With dismay, Io could only watch as Mosey’s bow came undone, and the fabric floated pitifully down to the ground. Imps could only be so well behaved, he supposed, as Mosey righted itself, and with a righteous cry, took off after the other Harpups; surely to enact revenge.

Io couldn’t hold back a laugh as their round forms flopped away, and squeaks, pips and shrieks emanated from…wherever Imp noises came out from. Taking a few steps to pick up the discarded bow, he held the strips of fabric together and stared down at them, before placing them on the nearest surface and sitting down on the ground to watch the Harpups play. Dressing up would have to wait.