This Should Make A Terrible Story

First Day of Summer

I woke up to Sue's voice.

"Hey, I'm just gonna go out, kay?" She said while standing at the doorstep of my room wearing her rather skimpy office attire. Her medium-length black hair was combed straight, down to her shoulders, and she wore her usual glasses.

Sue's my cousin, who's like, twenty years older than me.

Okay, Sixteen Years.

She's the breadwinner here, Not an Aunt, Uncle, Mom or Dad, nope.

Cousin.

Weird, I know. She's decided to look after me when my parents died, and then hers, My father's cousin and his wife, Aunt Lily and Uncle Todd.

Sue's a socialite. Upper Middle Class. You could tell from the Address.

Howard Garden Heights.

Home to The City's Upper Class and Upper Middle Class socialites, like her.

She's the Vice President of VertexCorp, which is a group of companies across the fields of medicine, agriculture, science and even tourism all over Traverse City. Becoming the Vice President at Thirty-Two, that's a damn achievement.

"Where you headed?" I asked.

"Work. Duh. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."

"Which is a line you've said enough times to actually be registered as your catchphrase." I snorted.

"I love you too." She said, stepping away from the door and walking to my bed to kiss me on the head.

And with a beep, I heard her car leave the gray driveway.

And I was left once more to figure out the ever-elusive mystery of WHAT THE HELL AM I GONNA DO TODAY!?

Maybe go to the mall. Hang out with friends, where the cool kids are. Shopping, dining, making out at the movie house, whatever the generation's into.

Hmm. A party maybe? We're still in the cool kid's table. Party by the Beach always sounds good.

Ew. You call them cool? Kids? Kids table? Ugh. Losing my touch, I think I'm no longer hip.

Double Ew. Hip? HIP!?!? DUDE WHO THE FUCK USES THAT FUCKING WORD!? WHAT THE FUCKING HELL IS FUCKING WRONG WITH YOU?!

Okay. I still curse. There's still hope.

I mean, I'm arguing with myself. But at this point, I'm sure everyone talks to himself or herself every now and then. Boredom makes you do the weirdest things.

Hmm.

The Arcade. I love Video Games. But that's where the virgins are. Even though I'm one, I know how to act it. So shush your traphole.

Damn it. Damn it all.

Wait.

Food? I mean, I'm adept at the kitchen.

Some Bacon, sautee some garlic and onions, maybe even Corned Beef, add an egg, with a little bit of pepper, cook on the frying pan until it reaches that savory scent to satisfy.

Yep. Food. Best solution to any problem. Evah.

Any teen can relate to that.

So I was on my way to the kitchen to prepare the ingredients needed for the breakfast. Cooking helps me to relax.

But all those were already on my plate, topped with some raisin loaves. I mean, boy, do I love me some raisin on my bread.

Bacon. Corned beef. An omelette. Sauteed Garlic and Onions. The scent of Pepper lingers on it. Not too much, not too little.

And there's a note attached to it.

Knew you'd come down EXACTLY at this moment when it's a bit warm, not too hot but at the perfect temperature, Unlike your way too hot cousin. Enjoy, Love ya.

~Sue

God, I love how she thinks of everything sometimes. However, the predicament stands.

The meal was delectable, as always with her cooking, but I could not enjoy it.

I stared at the last piece of bacon.

I knew, that if I eat this one last piece of heaven, I would, once again, have nothing to do. And this time, food won't solve it. (She thinks of everything and gets everything right, including how much food I needed before I was full)

But Bacon is Bacon. Bacon is life.

So what else would I do with it if not eat it? Taking the last piece, I do not regret savoring its taste.

Alas, the moment has come. There was nothing I could do except go back to the dreary gray bedroom.

I sank my head into my gray pillow staring at the gray ceiling. I gave up.

That's when I heard the beeps of a truck.

The new house from across the street.

The new neighbors followed behind the truck in a Black Sedan.

Then I saw a man, possibly in his forties, come out of the driver seat. He was rather gentlemanly, keeping his posture in his tuxedo.

Then I saw him walk to the back seat and open a door for her to step out.

Now I get it.

He's the butler.

And I saw the dark haired princess who just left me breathless by merely flipping her hair in the Summer wind.