|Humor Me| ::A Michael McIntyre Story::

::Chapter 1.11:: {Orchestra Night}

Michael McIntyre:

Feeling in a particularly good mood this morning, I had cheerfully begun to literally 'hop' down the steps.

For no reason at all I was simply bouncing with every step I would take, and I was happily whistling an unknown tune.

Did it matter that I had absolutely no idea what music was coming out of my lips? Of course not! I was delighted with the new day.

Just as soon as I stepped foot onto the first step to take me to the lower level, my ears picked up a small 'thud' come from down the hall.

My head had snapped in that general direction, and I did the deductive reasoning inside my own mind.

I was the only one who had been awake on this floor, knowing very well Juliet had already left for the day.

That only left one conclusion as to where the sound might have come from. Thomas's room. What has the bloke done now?!

I sidetracked my journey and took a small re-routing detour to where he had been caged the past two days.

I gave a small knock to his door, pushing it open carefully, not exactly knowing what might bestow my eyes as I entered.

There the poor sod was, laying on the floor wriggling into a pair of jeans. He hadn't even noticed my presence.

I raised an eyebrow curiously as I watched him struggle into the trousers, and crossed my arms as he jumped back up onto his feet.

"Care to tell me why you're out of bed?" I asked, hinting to the fact he might not be well enough for this much physical activity.

"I feel fine mate. Don't go all 'mum' on me now." he laughed mockingly, throwing a blue button up shirt on over a white t-shirt.

"You must have gotten up too fast. You fell over Tom, you're still not ready to be moving around like this." I scolded harshly.

"I told you I'm just giddy! It's been two days since I've put on pants give me a break. I tripped over something." he rolled his eyes and brushed it off.

He still had to do things in the bathroom before being fully ready for the sunny day, so I continued my voyage downstairs.

As soon as I entered the kitchen, I spotted Juliet walking in through the front entrance. The sight of her made my heart swell.

She waltzed in with her sun glasses on, several multicolored shopping bags on her arms, and talking on her mobile.

She had reminded me of one of those hotel heiresses that go shopping every single day and come home with expensive outfits they know they'll never wear.

She was different. I was almost positive she would be wearing every single thing she had purchased today.

I was slightly anxious to see what her buys were, yet that could raise suspicion on whether or not I was actually gay.

Whatever they looked like, I wished to not even glance at them unless she was wearing them. I guaranteed they would seem one thousand times better if worn.

"Merci. Au revoir." she had concluded her conversation with the random person on the other end of the line.

After snapping her phone shut she set all of the bags onto the floor, creating a circle around her small body.

I had looked over a few of the labels. Jimmy Choo, Chanel, Prada, Gucci, Banana Republic, Versace, and Burberry.

Kitty would die to see things like this. The most expensive thing we had ever bought in fashion was a £600 dress.