[ The floor opened up beneath him - he knows it. Deep down, that's where he went, and deep down he knows that it was no accident. These things are never accidents, because circumstances always have a root in deliberate actions that simply spiral out of control. Theodore might have been called an accident himself, if not for the simple fact that his creation was very deliberate. Just not very well planned out.
His thud upon landing is ungraceful at best, and painful at worst, thoughts clawing out of the startled darkness to let him know there's sand in his mouth. Some blood from a cut on the inside of his lip, too, but mostly sand. No one will be surprised to learn that it's the worst combination of taste/texture ever.
First comes the spitting, then the improvised attempts to get it off his tongue and wincing at the inability of getting it out of his teeth, thus continuing the saga with hideous crunches every time he gives in to the impulse to chew.
It's enough to distract him from what just actually happened, until - ]
No - oh no. I'm gonna be late for dinner, this isn't good - I don't want to starve!
[ And it's not so much that his maker will be upset if he doesn't show up, it's more that he has zero money on him and believes that he'll stay stranded and starve without it. (He doesn't know how to cook. Or pick food right out of nature. He's never even been grocery shopping.) Fear of the unknown takes shape in what a growl of the stomach would feel like, man. ]
theodore ing ( original )