Disclaimer: DO NOT READ THIS WITHOUT READING "The Tom And Jerry Tale".
Highest Ranking: 3 in Humour. (Thank you all!)
Same goal. Different motive.
Same family. Different blood.
But there are a few things that keeps them fighting - pran...
Whoever thought that salad is supposed to be healthy is completely out of their mind. It is nothing but a mixture of sadness and disgust in the form of edible stuff. No, I shall not use the word 'food' here to describe salad because that would be an insult to food.
Stop being dramatic, Brad. Eat your damn salad.
I poked my watermelon and put my chin on my palm, bored.
"Revenge?" Greg asked, suddenly reminding me of his presence.
"What can we do?" I asked back, glad to be distracted.
"I don't know, Brad. Why don't you ask your tooth fairy Tipple Toes?" He laughed.
"Let it go, Greg." I groaned, poking the salad .
"Or what? You're going to complain to your tooth fairy?" He smirked, feeling satisfied to have ruined my mood.
"You're supposed to be on my side, helping me get my revenge." I whined, stabbing the disgusting watermelon. (I swear, I could almost hear it laugh at me).
He rolled his eyes, "Wow, you are more dramatic than I am."
"You're not dramatic, Greg." I said with a straight face.
"Okay. Back to revenge. How about you put salt in his water bottle and milk?"
"Dude, I want revenge, not a death statement." I chuckled.
Do not ever touch Chad's food or drinks. Ever.
"Um, paint his skateboard pink?" He suggested.
"Enough paint. How about I pelt him with slipper as soon as he enters his room?"
"Perfect." He said, probably imaging his reaction. We burst out laughing, thinking about the same thing.
"Question: where do we get so many slippers from?" He asked, pulling his chair further in.
"Oh my dad has all the shoes in the world." I said and mentally slapped myself.
Damn it, he's dead. Stop thinking about him.
He grew silent, not wanting to say anything. Suddenly, he cleared his throat, "Um, I'll try and get as many as slippers as I can, Brad. Can't wait to see the look on Chad's face!" He said, getting up and waving his two fingers around.
I tried to cheer up, "Yes! I think we should pelt him with heels. Those things are nasty." I got up too, finishing off the last piece of the disgusting salad.
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"Again, do me the honours of telling me where on earth did you get so many slippers?!" I whisper – yelled, loading them in the bucket.
I was in Chad's room, waiting for him to come in so I can throw this bucket at his face. And run away.
Great chuckled, "I don't know, I just found them."
"Stealer." I whispered.
"That's not even a word!"
"Be quiet, you big stoler." I nudged him.
He rolled his eyes and kept his mouth shut.
We waited for half an hour and Chad – who I think probably got run over by a truck – still didn't come in. This is one of the times that I wish he wasn't dead – I need to torture him before he dies.
"I have a feeling he's in my room." I said.
"I'll go check." Greg got up from his bouncy bed and went out, to check in my room.
Why would anyone want a hard, bouncy bed? Beds are supposed to be soft and sinkable. I mean, people sleep in their beds not jump around like monkeys. But, considering Chad is half monkey - half weirdo, he can have a bouncy hard bed.
The door suddenly burst open, cutting off my mental rant about beds.
"What are you doing here?" He said at the same time I said, "Holy bubble ducks!"
"Holy bubble ducks?" He questioned, dropping the slipper he held in his hand.
"Get out of my room!" Chad said, pointing to the door.
"As if you weren't in my room." I grunted, picking up a random beach slipper from the bucket and throwing it at his face. His disgusting face.
"Ow!" He rubbed his cheek and picked up another slipper and threw it at me. He kicked the door close, giving me the 'you're so dead' look.
Okay, this time, pick up a stiletto.
No! He would die!
Isn't that what you want?
I was cut short when two Nike shoes slammed into my torso.
Yes, that is what I want, thank you very much.
I picked up the heels and threw it at his legs. He fell down but managed to throw a pair of converse at me.
Soon, all hell broke out and it became a slipper war. God knows what Greg and Ron were doing, but as long as they don't have slippers with them, it's all cool.
The door burst open again, and Greg and Ron were holding some red heels in their hands. In other circumstances, I would have laughed my head off seeing them, but I knew that this meant war.
But it was nothing my bubble ducks can't handle.
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KEEL ME RN.
I SO SORRYYYYYYY.
I DIDN'T UPDATE BECAUSE –
Random kid: NO. STFU. U DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT TO ARGUE.
BUT BUT –
Random kid: NO. AS PUNISHMENT, DOUBLE UPDATE.
BUT BUT–
Random kid: *holds up a dagger and glares*
OKAY. OKAY. PUT YOUR WEAPON DOWN, I COME IN PEACE.
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Date: 30/4/16 Time: 12:13 PM.
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Random kid: you know, giving us too many chocolates isn't really buttering us. -_-
