Paid to Catch

Operation KTBS

     I bark at my maids to guard the door as I went to go make a phone call. Cerice pounds like a caged animal outside the house, constantly yelling. "Let me in! LET ME IN!!"

If you're wondering why my Advance-Tech house isn't locking the door, well, that's because the automatic locks are only activated at night, and the only people who could use the lockdown system are my parents. Sucks, right? Well, they don't trust me.

     The maids block the door with a couch, a stool, and a few other things. "Hey!" I yell at one who's about to put the fridge together with the already bundled-up furniture. "Put that down, crazy!" 

     She pouts. "But It's stronger this way!" The maid's pretty buff, I would've suspected her for a guy if it weren't for the cleavage and the ponytail. What was she, a mixed-martial arts fighter?

     "I don't care!" I growl. "Food is food! Now, put it back!" When she did, I sigh. "Thank you! Geez, have mercy on the food container, 'kay?" Rolling my eyes, I dialed a number— My cousin Trace. The short maid didn't say anything about him being busy, so I thought maybe I could hang out with him other than that Crazy Babysitter of mine.

     Oh, do you remember Trace? If you don't, well. he's the kid at the party who helped put my mother down when she accidentally got caught in my net trap back at the party. [Take a little recap at the Prologue, Genius]

     The phone rang for a few seconds, until there was a clicking sound, then a voice said, "Hello?" It was followed by a yawn, and I think he muttered something about sleep. I didn't need to ask to know that the voice belonged to Trace. If there was one person I know who wakes up late, especially during school breaks, it's him.

     "Dude! It's Jeremy!" I say, raising my voice as Cerice was kicking the door open with what I imagined was her version of Karate: Ka-razy. Do you get the reference? If you do, I love you. If you don't... do you watch movies, bro?

     Trace groans. "Hi... What's up..?" He yawns again.

     My right eye twitches. "Snap out of it! Rub the sleep out of your eyes!" I say, annoyed. "Quit yawning!" There was a bumping noise from outside, and I have a feeling Cerice just hit her head. I was too pissed at Trace's drowziness to even laugh.

     "Well, sorry, but I just woke up. I didn't know sleeping for sixteen hours was illegal." Trace says. Was he sassing me? And did he just say sixteen hours? I try to make a comeback,

     "No, but it's bad for your health." I couldn't facefloor, so I facepalm at myself. Wow. Such a very good comeback, me (note: sarcasm). Wasn't Trace's dad a doctor? Shouldn't he know that by now?

      I never thought there'd come a time when I would strike back with medical issues. I'm not a doctor, darn it!

      Trace made a 'hmm' sound. "Well, you've got a point. I am anemic." He chuckles.

      I narrow my eyes. "That was still lame, though."

      "Shut up, I know."

      "So what'd you call for, Jerms?"

     " Well—"

     I was cut off when the door burst open, the furniture being pushed back with the force. The foot stool flew towards a maid and hit her in the face. I fought back the urge to laugh. I'm not a sadist, I just found it  funny when she stumbled backwards and knocked down the other maids.

     Cerice spun around in a daze, her legs wobbly. Her eyes looked like they were in a whirl. "K-kiddo... that wasn't funny.." She said, then collapsed from exhaustion. This suddenly felt like someone coming out from a comedy show filled with crack. What was it called again, Farce?