Regulation, Inspection, ...And *Sudden Information* Plus a REVELATION
Miss Hannigan DID NOT want to be docked for unsanitary conditions again, so even though she'd told Pinocchio to set his alarm for six-thirty AM and *knew* that he had, -the tall slender bleached-blonde blue-eyed woman ended up waking him up *BEFORE his alarm went off*. How?? By mirroring Petunia Evans-Dursley, that's how.
"UP! *Get up- now*! *UP*!" she whisper-shouted while knocking hard on the doorframe of Pinocchio's 'room'. "*RISE AND SHINE, doll-face*! You burn daylight, you *burn YOURSELF*!"
Pinocchio jerked awake with a start, his eyes flying wide-open from beneath his Trademark flop of jet-black bangs. He groaned softly while stretching and rubbing his eyes. *Darn*- morning already?? And he'd been having such a nice dream, too...
Another sharp knock that echoed in his ears. Then Miss Hannigan's strident voice demanded, "Are you up yet, Potter?"
"'Si'- y-yes, Miss Hannigan. 'M up. I'm awake," Pinocchio responded quietly and politely while inching and crawling out of his cupboard. Then he stood up.
"*Good*. You know what to do now- GET TO IT, Orfano."
"Yes, Signorina Hannigan."
She was flinching and rubbing her face and temples- she was pale and drawn, as though she were sick. -Headache. Either from stress, a hangover, or both. (Given last night, probably BOTH.) -Which meant that she wouldn't be cleaning alongside 'the rats' this morning.
"I'm going back to bed once I down some pain pills and water. *DO NOT* under *ANY circumstances* disturb me until It's Time. You understand, puppet-boy?"
"Y-Yes, ma'am."
"Remember: no breakfast until you're all done. And alongside making my bathroom clean, sort out my wine, cooler, and mead bottles too. *GOD KNOWS* I don't trust any of the other little monsters to do so...! Sweep, mop, dust, scrub, and Clorox like your life depends on it or you're playing one of Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle's household games- whichever comes first."
"Yes, Miss Hannigan!"
From there, Pinocchio scootched to go and wake the others up while his boss/caretaker went back to her own bedroom to nurse her aching pounding head. First he reached into his semi-shorts pocket for the spare key to his foster-sisters' dorm- then he neatly slid it into the lock, twisted it until he heard a 'click', pulled it out, and opened the now-unlocked door. Next, he rapped on the doorframe himself, put his fingers to his lips, and whistled loud, sharp, and clear before crying, "*WAKE UP, 'ragazzae' (girls)*! Rise and shine! It's MORNING-TIME, so shake a leg! C'mon, now- *up 'n at 'em*! Outta bed, Signorina Annie- Molly- Pepper- Tessie- July!
"Yes, I know, it's *six-thirty in the morning*, Saturday, *AND summer vacation*, but the city's comin' to inspect. So we gotta clean this whole place up- in Miss Hannigan's words, 'make sure that this place shines like the top of the Chrysler Building'. *Practically SPOTLESS*, 'donnae' (ladies); b'cause if they DOCK her for unsanitary conditions again, then she'll ground us all for *a MONTH*. And no breakfast until we're done, either."
The girls grumbled and groaned groggily as they slid out of bed themselves. Pinocchio vacated the premises in order to let them get dressed as well as fetch buckets, mops, brooms, dustpans, Clorox wipes, dust-rags, scrub-brushes, and liquid soap. Miss Hannigan's sudden awakening had caused him to shift AND expose his long gray donkey ears and tail, so he clearly heard the following conversation (one part of it *stinging* as always)...
"-*I HATE them* so much- Ma Grunter and Basher John."
"I was having *the BEST* dream. I was ice-skating- on *real ice*..."
"Save your dreams for the *GOOD* stuff- like shopping with an *unlimited credit card*!"
"Or swimming in CANDY: gummy bears, jellybeans, M&Ms, Milky-Ways, Skittles, Reeses' Cups- those little colorful dot things on paper..."
"Or flying to the moon in a rocket ...all things that'll *NEVER* happen."
Eight minutes later, Pinocchio politely yet urgently knocked on the doorframe again. "Okay- let's get cleanin', 'ragazzae'! And remember: you happen t' find any loose change, it's Miss Hannigan's. So if and when you unearth any coins, give 'em t' me so I can give them to her later. Sorry; that's her rule!"
"*Uugghh*. Yeah, okay- *FINE, Basher John*," Pepper scowled underneath her own thick dark bangs.
Pinocchio's back stiffened, his teeth clenched, and he felt his lips go stiff and white around the edges. *OOOOHHHH*, how he HATED that awful nickname owing to a certain mean nasty character in J. K. Rowling's 'The Ickabog'...!! He'd take even *'literal faggot'* or 'twinkie' over- THAT! He bit his tongue to keep from snapping at the feisty twelve-year-old girl with sharp dark eyes and olive skin. He WOULD NOT- *could not* stoop to their foster parent's level; no matter how hurt, angry, or upset he was.
He whirled around on his heel and started in on the kitchen with a frenzy at the same time Annie turned on the radio. Oh. The. *Irony* at what was currently playing...!
More than a bit angrily and sadly, he sang along semi-under his breath with the orphans on the radio and the other foster-kids in the room as they all cleaned through the apartment either dusting, wiping, sweeping, mopping, scrubbing, or making beds.
~"It's the *HARD-KNOCK life* for us-
It's the *Hard-Knock life* for us!
'Stead of treated,
We *get TRICKED*;
'Stead of *kisses*,
We get KICKED-!
It's the hard-knock life...!
Got no folks t' speak of, so
It's *the hard-knock row* we hoe:
Cotton blankets instead of wool-
EMPTY BELLIES instead of *FULL*;
It's the hard-knock life...!
Don't it feel like the wind is *always howlin'*?
Don't it seem like there's *NEVER* any light?
Once a day, dontcha wanna THROW THE TOWEL IN?
*It's easier than PUTTIN' UP A FIGHT*...!
No one's there when your dreams at night get *CREEPY*-
No one CARES if you grow or if you *shrink*;
*No one DRIES* when your eyes get red 'n weepy-
From the cryin', you would think this place would SINK...!
Empty-belly life;
*Rotten smelly* life!
*Full 'f SORROW* life-
NO TOMORROW life...
Santa Clause we *NEVER see*...
'Santa Claus'- *what's that*??
WHO'S HE??!
*No one cares for you a smidge*
When you're an ORPHAN or a foster-kid-!
*It's the HARD-KNOCK LIFE*...!
-It's the *Hard-Knock Life* for us;
It's the HARD-KNOCK life for us-
*NO ONE* cares for you *a SMIDGE*
When you're an orphan or a foster-kid...!
It's the hard-knock life- it's *the Hard-Knock life*;
It's- the- HARD- KNOCK- life...!"~
Now a different song was on- this one slightly cheerier. Annie, Molly, July, Tessie, and even Pepper were grinning and dancing as they belted it out. Pinocchio's eyes, heart, throat, and soul BURNED- his stomach clenched and hurt. They *should* be brother and sister- he SHOULD BE laughing and tripping the light fantastic alongside them...
But he wasn't. *They WEREN'T*. He was disliked and practically hated all because he was more-or-less Miss Hannigan's 'yes-man' as well as her only male foster-child.
Pinocchio angrily swiped at his eyes with his arm before going back to scrubbing the dorm windows, his ears lowered flat against his head and tail switching every so often between his legs. It. Wasn't. Fair! *Not at all*!! NONE OF IT was or had been fair...
His 'Shrek' counterpart was all too right. Sometimes, bein' a fairy-tale creature DID *suck PINE-SAP*-!
~"*Story of my life*:
Booted from the ball,
Told t' GO AWAY-
Tumbled off the wall...
That's the story of my life-
That's *the story of my life*;
*That's the STORY OF MY LIFE*...!
-I always dreamed I'd get a *happy ending*;
And THIS RIGHT HERE?
*NOT how it goes*!
I always dreamed I'd *get an EVER-AFTER*...
If *THIS is it*, it BLOWS!
It *BLOWS*!
It blows-!
*It BLOWS*...!
Story of my life:
All the *wasted prayers*,
All the *BROKEN DREAMS*-
(All the *broken CHAIRS*)!
*All the damage done*-
(All the busted beds)
All the *SHATTERED falls*
(And the porridge on our heads)...
THAT'S the *story of my life*-
Yessir-!
That's *the STORY OF MY LIFE*;
*OY VEY*...!
*That's the story of my-
Life*...!"~
*FINALLY*, after another couple of pop or Broadway songs, the apartment was clean as a whistle- *and* it was time for breakfast. Just a quick affair of cereal, milk or juice, and fresh fruit today before hopping into the shower and getting dressed...
By now, Miss Hannigan's headache had mostly gone away, and SHE got herself bathed, dressed, and made up.
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Every single foster-kid was waiting for the inspector. Miss Hannigan stood in front of them passing out props and orders.
"You- read a book. You- braid her hair. You ...practice for a recital. You two- put this puzzle together. It's a kitty-cat."
"What should *I* do??" Annie wanted to know.
"-Pray," replied Miss Hannigan sincerely yet dryly.
"I've tried," Tessie whispered to Annie. "It doesn't work."
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.
"*Showtime*. Act well-cared for."
%"*We love you, Miss Hannigan*!"%
"*UGH*... Take it down A THOUSAND. No one's gonna believe *that*."
Pinocchio inwardly groaned and rolled his eyes when Miss Hannigan *flirted with* the *YOUNG AND HANDSOME inspector*- though made sure to smile sweet and bright as much as anyone else despite being seemingly absorbed in a good book. 'Just livin' the dream', as Annie chirruped to Mr. Inspector ...who unexpectedly dropped a piece of paper from his clipboard as he and Miss Hannigan headed down the hallway to start things off in the bathrooms.
Pepper bent down and picked it up, then read it quickly. "-This has *all our information* on it..." she murmured in awe and wonder.
All of the girls rushed over to look at it (Pinocchio once again on the outskirts as usual).
"I've been in *a LOT* of homes-!"
"This one says I've been in MILLIONS...!"
"That's your *social security number*, dummy."
"What's a scocial scasurty murder???"
"It's what you need to apply for a credit c-,"
"*Wait*! I can use this to get my records and FIND MY PARENTS...!"
"I'll copy it down. *Plan your exit*-!"
Annie asked Miss Hannigan if she could go down to the library to study. (*WEIRD*, since it was now *summer vacation*- meaning school was O-U-T.) Pinocchio could tell that she SUSPECTED something ...but then she shooed Annie off anyway, wanting to keep talking to/flirting with the handsome inspector with no wedding ring. 'Nocchi soon scurried himself since he was supposed to tail her every time she did something like this.
They both raced down the street to Lou's Bodega so that Annie could earn a fairly quick buck for the needed amount of forty-three ninety-five for an appointment with Family Services, which would be the next stop. Pinocchio sank down onto an empty crate turned upside down to read and wait, crossing his fingers and knocking on his makeshift chair for some much-needed good luck. Shame he couldn't go in and help while chatting with the friendly Hispanic man, but- oh, well... There was always next time.
*Annie could not- MUST NOT see him*. Boss's orders- or Pinocchio's ass was *grass* and she was the LAWNMOWER...! *NO THANK YOU*.