Chapter 12/Part 1: Breakfast in Bed

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~Well, look who rolled out of the abyss to write again? This blob did! Let me know what you think! :)

Fonzie's POV:

So, thank God it's Saturday. Saturdays are the best. I love Saturdays. They're sacred. I refuse to do anything on this hallowed day. Sure, to Jewish people it's the Sabbath–and to me it is like a sort of Sabbath, minus the communion and Jesus and stuff. Oh wait, that's Christianity. I get so mixed up keeping track of all the religions. Wait a minute here. Speaking of holidays, today is a special day. I can't believe I almost forgot. It's Spike's birthday. This would be the first birthday of his that I wouldn't miss. Unfortunately, the poor guy hasn't celebrated anything like that, I'm pretty sure at all in his young, miserable life. I gotta change that. It's up to me to give him the birthday he's never got–not even once. I still can't believe it.

So, I know that kids like to sleep in on the weekend, but c'mon, I've gotta wake Spike up for some breakfast in bed. He'd love it.

It takes me just a jiffy to whip up some tasty bacon and eggs, and I do this thing where I arrange the bacon into a smiley face. I bet Spike'll like that. I know Bob's does. Heck, he'll love it.

Trying to be polite as I can, I wrap the door lightly and peek in. Incredible. The two are snuggled up into each other's sides. Aw man, that's so darn cute. I can't interrupt that. To make that moment of peace last forever, I grab my Kodak and snap a picture. The shudder clapping makes them stir. I subtly set the camera down to creep into their tent with them. It's surprisingly roomy. Gently, I tap Spike awake. He startles, about to panic. Then he realizes it's just me. Putting my finger up to my lips, I shush him silently. "Sit tight, Spikey. I got a surprise for ya," I whisper.

Spike smiles for the first time since he's been living with us. It touches my heart. Poor, sweet little rebel-rouser. It almost makes me want to trust him. Almost. Nah, who am I kidding? It's Spike.

Anyway, I crawl out of the tent carefully and shuffle myself across the floor, trying not to wake Bobby. I know I could've just made breakfast in bed for the both of them, but I wanted to make this one special, just for Spike. He deserves that much. He needs to feel special once in a while. What better day than his birthday.

I can't contain my joy as I manage to not spill a drop of his food or OJ as I place it all on the boy's lap. He just stares at it. He's stunned.

"Well, do you like it?" I wonder.

Spike slowly lifts his eyes to look at me. He looks confused. "What's this?"

"It's breakfast, buddy. Happy birthday, pal." I give him a reassuring smile, but I don't think it works.

He slowly shakes his head.

"What, you don't like it?" I ask, a tish worried.

"I-I...thanks." He takes a small bite from it, but before I can say the words, "Is that yummy," he had scarfed it all down in one big gulp.

"Good, huh?" I ask. Good thing Bobby is a heavy sleeper because Spike is a very loud eater, and messy at that. Aw well.

He nods enthusiastically. "Thanks...but um, you didn't have to do that."

"Of course I did, pal. Anything for you."

Gosh, I'm gettin' teary-eyed, and I can tell he's choked up too. Before things get too weird and sappy, I grab his dish and cup then hurry back with a wash rag. He sorely needs it. The boy takes one look at the rag and shoos it away. Oh great. Back to the old Spike. Figures.

I sigh. "Spikey, I know it's your birthday and all, but that doesn't give you an excuse to be difficult. Just take the washcloth."

His eyes turn from pools of ocean to solid rock. Inside of just one blink. "No thank you." Hey, at least he said thank you. That's a first.

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