Yes Susan, I just did.

- 2 -

My keys rattle in the lock as I turn them and enter the house, the purple door swinging open. I actually painted the door, I painted most of the house.  Sammy was outside parking the car, he told me to go ahead and see my dad, make sure he hadn't created a robot that murdered him. I walk in and close the door softly behind me, and drop my bag onto the floor.

"Dad?" I call out, hearing pots banging in the kitchen. The bad type of banging. I grab the baseball bat from beside the door, where we keep it because reasons... and hold it up, in position, next to my head. Starting along the hallway, I tighten my grip and listen attentively to the suspicious noises.

All of a sudden, the door to the kitchen bursts open and something pretty big tumbles out. An alarm starts to blare and smoke pours out from the room, falling in waves around our ankles. The creature starts up and starts to flap around like a bird, making high-pitched squawks. It was mainly human shaped but had rounded hands and a great, bulging, colourless eye. I let out a loud scream as the sprinklers turn on, stopping the smoke. It starts to advance towards me and the deep breathing from under its net like skin could be heard from miles away, like Darth Vader. Backing away, I drop the bat and rise my hands in surrender. It stumbles around for a little while before collapsing in front of me, its skin falling off and its eye peeling away slightly.

"Dad?" I ask again, frowning and crawling over to him. His body starts to shake in laughter and he rolls over to look at me. I punch him playfully in the shoulder, laughing along with him. He pulls me down into a hug and we stay there before the smoke gets a bit too much and causes us to stand up and cough.

"What the hell were you doing in there, with a bees-net hat," I say, picking it up and placing it on my head. "Oven gloves and ski googles on?" I ask as he takes  them off, one by one. He grins and throws them aside. My dad isn't that old, he's in his fifties somewhere but he refuses to count. He has the same reddy-brown coloured hair as me but he also has blue eyes, unlike my green ones. He's skinny and doesn't look as old as he is supposed to, he probably tried to create an elixir of youth. But then again, maybe not, most of his experiments fail and make him really ill.

"Cooking dinner." He says, chuckling and standing up. He extends a hand towards me and I take it: he pulls me up. I roll my eyes gently and let out a small laugh, taking off the hat and throwing it aside.

"I thought we agreed that you let me and Sammy do the cooking and you sick to exploding things in your workshop." I laugh and walk into the kitchen to survey the damage. Ever since my mom died nine years ago, its just been me, my dad and Sammy living here. And none of us are very good at cooking, which leaves us fucked. I cough slightly and wave my hand in front of my face, trying to bat the smoke away. I walk over to the window and open it before looking around for the disaster site. My eyes zone into the microwave, totally destroyed. The top had been blown completely off and it had landed in the sink. The sides looked melted and in the middle, on the little plate thing, sat a very innocent bowl of baked beans. With two forks in it. Metal forks.

"I was just trying to cook a nice meal for us when you got back." He smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Maybe next time you can wait until I'm back, and we can cook it together." I offer, gathering the destroyed microwave and taking it outside to the massive pile of electric waste. I smile and wander back in to find my dad cleaning the surface with a wet cloth.

"Takeaway again tonight then." He grins, turning once he hears my footsteps. "What do you fancy?" At this, Sammy comes bounding into the kitchen. I jump onto one of our bar stools and turn it around to face them.

"Did I hear takeaway?" He asks, causing me and my dad the chuckle.

"Yeah, how about pizza tonight?" Dad suggests, waving the cloth around absentmindedly.