Old Clocks Run Off Acid Fluid and Batteries

Dancing to songbirds and floating on clouds is what Zooey did best, quite honestly. Despite her current living situations (and a certain doll.. or a certain, it? We still haven't figured that one out) she was perfectly fine. Of course, some days were worse than others, but that was natural; to be of expected. Right?

Currently the smell of an unknown dish wafted tantalizingly through the house. Arousing the smell of every breathing creature. Which, technically, or not so - would be the doll.

"I wonder if dolls can listen to music." Zooey sang that sentence throughout the house, skipping around on her toes with a wooden spoon in her oven-mitt clad hand, a smile on her face.

She was perfectly content at the moment.

A knock sounds through the room and startles Zooey into a state of panic. No one ever calls here. Ever. Or knocks, in this case. It was, to say the least, completely unexpected.

Putting down her spoon on the counter (and managing to get its remnants all over the smooth counter top) she forgets about her mitts (of course) and answers to the peep hole.

"Hello?" She curiously calls into the wooden door.