I turned my head to see my boyfriend, Gilbert Beilschmidt. He was running toward me with his arms flailing in the air.
"What is it, Gil?" I asked.
"Gilbird's gone missing!" he said, panicked.
"Oh, no! Do you want me to help you look for him?" If it were anyone else's pet, I wouldn't have bothered. But it was Gilbird, and he was just so cute that I had to find him-- and he was my boyfriend's bird, after all.
Gil nodded. "Ja, thanks."
So we looked. And looked. And looked. We looked all through Gil's and Ludwig's house and property, but there was no sign of the little bird. After about an hour of searching, Francis and Antonio came bursting through the front door.
"Hola, mis amigos!" shouted the Spaniard.
"Bonjour, our Prussian friend!"
I straightened up from looking under the couch to look at the duo. "Hey, guys. Now might not be a good time to hang out with Gil. Gilbird's missing."
Francis put his hand to his mouth. "Mon Dieu! That's horrible!"
"Anything we can do?" asked Toni.
I nodded. "Will you help look for him?"
The two nodded.
And so, we all looked some more, not once finding a clue as to where Gilbird could've been. Gilbert and I walked into a storage room in the basement. A few minutes later, there was a chirping sound coming from a dusty, old footlocker. We both scrambled over to the footlocker and opened it, excited when we found the cute yellow bird inside.
"Gilbird!" Gil exclaimed.
He leaned into the open footlocker when he was pushed into it. Not a second later, I felt someone push me in before the lid was slammed shut.
"Gil?" I mumbled, a bit of an edge in my voice.
"Did your friends just lock us in a footlocker?"
He snorted. "Ja, I think they did. . ."
"Your hands are on my butt."
He snickered. "And?"
My face heated up. "Gil. Let go of my butt."
He shook his head. "Nope."
"Gilbert Beilschmidt! Get your hands off my butt right now!" I twisted my body around, trying to make him release me-- to no avail.
He laughed. "Danke, Toni! Danke, Francis! I owe you guys!"
"De nada, mi amigo!" said Antonio from outside the footlocker.
"De rien, mon ami!" said Francis.
"Are you guys sitting on the footlocker?!" I said, my jaw dropped.
"Oui. We're waiting for some action."
I pounded my fists on the walls of the footlocker. "Let me out of this thing before I beat my man to a pulp!"
Gilbert gulped. "Do it, guys! She means it! She's been hanging out with mein bruder!"
A clatter came from just outside the footlocker before it was opened, the Spaniard and Frenchman standing there expectantly.
I quickly climbed out and sprinted out of the house, shouting, "I found your stupid bird! Later!"