Relatives-Part II

The infuriating, exasperating, vexatious little girl! I ought to put her on a one man shuttle craft and send her to the farthest reaches of the galaxy....quadrant three! But, before I send her off on a shuttle craft, I should explain. Take off will be in five minutes.

She broke my wireless communicator.

I had been sitting at the breakfast table eating Lucky Charms and reading a book I had found on quantum physics, when she walked in. She was dressed in a black t-shirt that said 'Princess' in some type of shiny pink beads. Her pants consisted of silky material with pink clouds printed on them. But her face. On her face she wore a look of complete, mischievous triumph. In her hand she held my missing wireless communicator. The screen was scratched and a piece of metal crashed from it and on to the floor with a clank as I stared at her in silent disbelief.
She smiled a diabolical grin. No sign of repentance showed on her face.
"You." Was all I could say, dropping my spoon into my apparently useless Lucky charms. I slowly rose from my chair. "Give that back now." I said, fighting to control the desire to yell. Just then my friend walked in the room. "Hi guys! How long have you been up Spock? Five?" The phone rang and she left the room before I could answer or tell her of the miscreants evil deed. I looked back to Charley. She was gone, fled from the scene, but placed on the table was my wireless communicator. "Charley" was written across the screen in some type of sticky pink substance. I picked it up, glitter falling as I did. Utterly useless. "There's no help for me now Scotty!" I moaned. "You'll never beam me out of here and I will be stuck on earth with all their strange customs and nauseating culinary skills."
I wandered dejectedly down the hall, past my old room with my comforting glow in the dark stickers and into the basement to see if I could fix my communicator. Pointless. I tried to turn it on, it would whir with a strange buzzing sound and then fade.

And now as you know the reason for our unforeseen shuttle launching, I have an appointment to go to: 10,9,8,7. . .