Dragocorn called me on Skype, along with a few other friends. The result... Cell Pone.

It's been a while since I wrote it, but somewhere in my stories there's a scene of Oscil and his 1930's princess phone. I wish I could remember where.

Elsewhere:

The pony curled in his pet-bed, his tail flicking about while his nose rubbed against the cushioned wall. Ears twitching and eyes sparkling, he reached out to wrap his arms around Deana. The little, red pencil of a vixen having found herself a warm place against the edge of the pony's frumpy pillow.

"Your bed's warmer than the couch down stairs, but not as warm as the gap behind the grandfather clock." Deana said, her nose running over the pony's arms while he hugged her. "I wonder why?"

"Clock gnomes..." Oscil said, his voice deadpan and matter of fact.

Deana grumbled and pinned her ears. "What?" Deana rolled over to face him, but found herself pinned under pony-nose.

Oscil's nose flared with a contented snort and his ears perked. His arms squeezed the vixen a little tighter, as his eyes drifted closed... And promptly shot back open. The trilling, unmistakable sound of metallic bell and mechanical ringer filling the bed room. Oscil and Deana's heads shot up from the pet-bed. Ears perked and twitching, eyes wild; they looked at each other and then about the room. Deana's tongue flicked over her nose and Oscil chewed imaginary food. The metallic ring sounded again, causing Deana to huff and sing out a nasally fox chirp in response.

Oscil's ear twitched and his head darted to look under the bed. With a puff and a snort Oscil leaned his nose under the bed. Plastic banged on the floor, the pony's nose sliding the ringing plastic contraption out from under the bed.

Shiny and black, the ancient rotary phone sat silent on the floor. Receiver half off the hook from being manhandled by the careless schnoz. Deana leaned her head over the edge of the pet-bed to stare at it with the pony. Their ears turning like tuning satellite dishes, waiting in anticipation for the sound. "That's your toy phone isn't it?" Deana asked, leaning down to run her nose over the seemingly lifeless phone.

Oscil's ears pinned and his lips curled in a frown. "It's not a toy..." He grumbled. "I told Dr. Slater I wanted a phone so I could call her. She gave me this old rotary phone as a joke." He swatted his tail and knocked the receiver back on the hook with a brush of his nose. "Big, red smart as-"

The phone clattered again, cutting the pony's insult off and only leaving a squeal and a howling fox-yap. Deana's ears pinned and her lips curled. "It can't ring! It's not even hooked up." The fox lowered herself down into the pony's bed to hide again.

Oscil gripped the receiver with his lips,pulling it off the phone and dropping it to the floor. "Who's calling the pony?" Oscil asked, sniffing over the receiver.

Deana's eyes widened, the receiver hissing with static. "Is your refrigerator ru-" A voice crackled, but was overwhelmed by coughing, hissing fox. "Hey! Shut up!" The voice cracked and boomed again.

Oscil and Deana recoiled, heads pulling back in Unison before returning to sniff the talking, plastic monster.

"Is your refrigerator running?" The phone rattled under the persistent pushing of noses. The pony and the vixen said nothing, preferring to nip and bite as they pleased. "Hello?"

"It's Taffy." Deana frowned. "Just hang up."

"Answer the question." The phone buzzed.

Oscil frowned, his eyes narrowing. "Go away, Taffy! Everybody hates you!"

"Is-" Taffy groaned.

"Like, literally everybody." Deana nodded.

"Your refrigerator-" Taffy snarled.

"She has no friends. I bet the other wizards hate her too."

"Not everybody hates me..." Taffy's voice lowered with a gulp.

"That's why she's calling here. We're probably the only ones with a phone that can't block her." Deana's little teeth glistened, her nose rubbing on Oscil's chin.

"She's calling on my cell pone, cause she needs my bites!" Oscil's teeth clamped down on the receiver with a pop.

Taffy put her phone back on the hook. Vacuous, black lenses on her gasmask suddenly taking on a melancholy look with the tilting of her head. "Does everybody hate me?"

Art by  Dragocorn
Oscil and story by  Oscil