Behind the Fake Smile *completed*

Behind the Fake Smile Cp5

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, still half dead to the world. Mum and dad were at work, leaving me alone in the house making the best of the peaceful silence before some chair biting little kid comes and snatches it away from me. 

They better be cute.  

Annafree, you're such a dense and shallow freak, go crawl back in your hole now.

I rolled out of bed and dragged my feet towards the kitchen whilst cursing my inability to last longer than an hour without the need to eat.

I put some bread into the toaster and stared at it, praying that it wouldn't burn. Somehow, I always manage to burn my toast and it's only with this toaster that I burn the bread. If I make anyone else toast with this toaster, then the toast is perfect; cruncy and a lovely golden brown. But when it comes to me, the end product is always something that black and crumbly.

I am most definately not one of those teenagers who constantly whine that someone or something has got it in for them but I'm telling you that this toaster hates me.

It's not like I've done anything bad to it either. I once tried sweet talking it and complimenting it on it's shiny metal and amazing ability to create change with something so simple and how that the toaster is often under rated.

It didn't work.

I tried to convince my parents to get a new toaster but, of course, they just laughed at my "unreasonable explanation" as to why I always burn my toast. Nothing works.

The toasts jumped up slightly. I placed a small plate on the counter top and slowly took the pieces. I groaned in frustration and threw the burnt toasts in the bin whilst cursing the person who invented the toaster.

In the middle of watching the first Shrek movie, I heard a strange noise. I sat up, alert, and paused the film and listened more carefully.

I told the witch doctor I was in love with you. And then the witch doctor he told me what to do. He told me ooh-ee-ooh-ah-ah-ting-tang-walla-walla-bing-bang ooh-ee-ooh-ah-ah-ting-tang-walla-walla-bing-bang....

It was my... ringtone? No one calls me. Crap, something bad happened. I quickly jumped up and ran to my bedroom where my phone was ringing and vibrating obnoxiously. Cautiously, I approached the phone. It could have been mum who died in a car crash with dad and now they're calling me from beyond the grave to tell me not to kill the toaster in their absense.

"Hello?"

"Hey, do you want to come out with us?" It was Michael. I breathed an internal sigh of relief.

"Depends, where are you going?"

"The shopping centre."

I groaned inwardly. "You like shopping?"

"You don't?"

I shook my head but then realised that he couldn't see me. "No."

"Well just come anyway. You'll never know, you might actually have fun." He chuckled. "We'll pick you up in about five minutes?"

"Sure," I hang up and quickly began to get ready. I brushed my teeth and washed my face again and changed into my blue skinny jeans, a  plain white tee-shirt and a long grey cardigan. The doorbell rang soon after, I quickly put on my white converse put my phone in my front pocket. 

I don't understand why people put their phones in their butt pocket, what if you butt dial someone and waste your credit? And doesn't anyone else find it uncomfortable sitting down with their phone in their back pocket? And what it you're a bit on the chubby side and you crush your phone into a million sharp pieces and because they're sharp, they stab your bum and give you an uncomfortable wound which stops you from sitting down because it hurts...