Newspaperdom

1) Mishap

Poke.
"Kate!"

Poke
"Kate!''

"Mmhmm!'' I replied absent mindedly and nuzzled deeper into my soft pillow.

"It's nine in the morning!" She spoke again.

I huffed. Is my best friend mad? Every morning has a nine? Not like this nine will initiate Foster to gag me?

"It's Sunday Kate!" She said. My best friend really needs a medical checkup! Which Sunday doesn't have a nine?
Wait! It's what?

"SUNDAY NINE? !" I got up, erect. Flaccid wasn't an option! It was Sunday!

I looked into Tory's gray doodling eyes and she had a wicked smile in her eyes. Now Foster definitely would gag me. He got a perfect mere chance to get mad at me.

I groped for my cellphone and yes! It was nine! I was late! For the hundredth time!

'Couldn't you wake me up!' I looked at her incredulously.

'Hey!' She protested. 'That's something I am doing past an hour?'

I was about to argue but made up my mind. If I sat to argue with her, it was certainly something I'd neglect.

I pushed her away (I don't care if that was rude, she would have thrown pumpkins on me to wake me up if it were some different day but today she did purposely, bitch!) and rushed into the bathroom to take a shower.

I gave Tory a YOU- WILL- REGRET look before slamming the bathroom door shut.

I am Katie Holmes and I live in an apartment with my two idiot best friends. You've already met Tory and the other one is Lyme. Tory and I share the same room while Lyme being a boy of course, takes the other room.

I wouldn't say that we're are diaper friends but neither would I deny that our relation is stronger than any diaper friends could've.

They are my only family since my parents died. I was six when I joined the orphanage and that's where we formed our small mob.

Back to me, I am tender twenty. To be accurate I'll turn twenty in a month.
(Ignore the word tender, I am a hyperbolic bitch, you'll notice soon.)

The point is that I am a journalist, I write for the famous newspaper, 'Behind The Camera.' I am a journalist not by passion but fury. (You'll know the reason latter maybe.)

In our newspaper, we totally concentrate on ,'celebrities' and my hatred for this word is enough to reveal my allergy, celebrities.

And yeah, Monster, I mean Foster, is sweet, cool, good, generous, gentle, understanding and antonyms of all those word which praise him, boss.
HE-IS-AN-EARTH-DWELLING-BEAST!

I quickly stepped out of the bathroom and changed into my shorts and an orange tank top. I left my hair lose and tieing the laces of my shoes I ran downstairs.

Yes, my room was upstairs and Lyme's downstairs. We had rubbed our asses to be able to buy this cozy house.

"Cat," A guy shirtless entered the living room. 'Breakfast.' He nodded at the drooling pancakes. Yes, this is Lyme.

"I wish I could have it." I sighed ignoring that he addressed me "cat".

What on earth makes him think that I look like a cat? The last time I checked in the mirror, I never had whiskers!

"Where you heading to?" He asked.
"Monster had called an urgent meeting by nine thirty,' I said.

'You meant Foster?' He chuckled.