Brown Slime Stories

Three Minutes

Samantha didn't wake up to the usual sound of her alarm clock that day.

Instead, it was the sound of her mom's voice, and the gentle persistence of her hands as she shook her awake.

"Come on, honey," her mom said softly, "You need to get up now!"

Samantha groaned in sleepy protest and tried to bury her face back into her pillow. It felt like she had only been asleep for a few minutes, but the bright light that shone in through her window indicated otherwise.

Her mom must have already pulled her curtains open, as Samantha was sure she had closed them before going to bed.

"What time is it?" she asked sleepily, rubbing her eyes.

"A little after seven, sweetheart."

"Seven!" Samantha exclaimed, "How did I sleep in so late? I never sleep in this late."

"You were up doing homework until midnight," her mother replied with a faint laugh. "I said you should've started on it sooner, but you wouldn't listen."

"Why didn't you wake me up sooner?" Samantha grumbled.

"Oh, I tried. You just mumbled 'go away' and went right back to sleep. Now come on, hurry and get dressed or you'll miss the bus."

Her mother walked out of her room, closing the door behind her as she left Samantha alone. She sat up in bed, stretching and yawning before climbing out from under the covers and heading to her closet.

She pulled out a fresh set of clothes for school that day; baggy jeans and a plain white shirt with the words "Allactal Proletic Home" on it, written in fancy brand-style lettering.

Samantha studied it curiously for a moment. 

She had no idea what it was supposed to mean—there was no company called Allactal, she'd looked it up—but it gave vibes like some obscure designer brand that only the hipsters in school would know about, or something like that.

As she got dressed, Samantha looked at herself in the mirror hanging inside her closet door. The shirt did look pretty cool on her, and made her feel kind of confident, which was rare for Samantha.

It almost made her feel like someone who didn't have to worry about schoolwork and mean girls. Almost.

There was still something missing, though. As she studied her reflection, she wished she had time to do her hair before heading out the door. But there wasn't much she could do besides give her auburn shoulder-length hair a quick brush, then let it hang loose.

It was too bad she couldn't use any makeup or anything like that. Samantha liked how she looked, but felt that a little makeup would help her feel even more confident. 

But her mom would never let her wear makeup until she was older. She insisted that she'd only allow Samantha to use it once she turned sixteen the following year, and that was final.

"Samantha, hurry up!" her mom called from downstairs, "The bus just pulled up!"

"Okay, Mom! I'll be down in a second!"

She glanced at herself one last time in the mirror. Her hair looked kind of messy, but it would have to do. If she didn't hurry up, she'd miss the bus and be late for school.

Which would be a disaster.

The thought of enduring the school's humiliating new punishment was enough to spur Samantha into action.

She hurried down the stairs, grabbed her backpack, and ran out the front door...

Just in time to see the bus pulling away as she stepped onto the sidewalk.