New Joke of the Week: My Love Life

Meet Ryder Furlong

*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*

I groan, rolling over and slapping in the general direction of the beeping coming from my alarm clock. Man. 6:30 comes early. Grumbling, I jerk myself into a sitting position. I sway slightly, then right myself. I probably look like the zombie appocolapse has begun. And in some way, it has. School. Everyone are zombies until at least 5th period. I swear, I probably look like death. I am death. True story.

I get ready quickly and trot downstairs to find that my mom and brother are already eating. Travis is 17 and drives me to school every morning. Dad is off on a business trip and won't be home for another week. Travis "accidentally" trips and shoves my bowl of Cheerios, like the nice brother he is, from my hands. "TRAVIS DERRIK EVERETT! GET BACK HERE RIGHT THIS VERY INSTANT OR SO HELP ME!!!!" I screamed, flailing my arms everywhere.

I huff air out of my nose and shriek.

"Travie?" I playfully call, knowing that he will answer to my childhood nickname for him. I've got a master plan right here.

"Yeah, babycakes?"

Darn. I hate his pet name for me. Him, being the delinquent older brother he is and a thug, gave me this simply adorable nickname that I just loved when I was born. Note my sarcasm. Travis isn't really a delinquent... Or a thug... He is actually quite studious and good, but he has a flair for mischief and sneaky plans. He is the expert. What can I say?! I learnt from the master from all of time... Travis. If you need a sneaky plan or payback to a friend, Trav is your man. So many times Trav has helped with countless pranks, payback, and all out mischief. He never gets caught for anything. Anything, I tell you. He can cry on command-- I know, weird talent for a guy -- but he sure uses it to his advantage, especially when it comes to me. Yeah. He fake cries in front of our parents all the time and there is nothing I can do about it: I begin to smirk, then grin, then snicker, then gut wrenching laughter seems to pour out of me. That is often met with dirty looks from my parents and a strict reprimanding. I have been on friend restrictions countless times because they know that that is the only way to punish me. Arg.

"TRAVIE TRAVIE HELP ME IM SCARED PLEASE PLEASE TRAVIE HURRY!" I squeal. Time to put this master plan in action. Travie would be proud if he weren't the one being pranked.

"BABYCAKES STAY RIGHT THERE I SWEAR I WILL KILL WHATEVER IS SCARING YOU JUST STAY WHERE YOU ARE AND WHATEVER YOU DO... DO N O T PANIC!!!!"

"HURRY HURRY TRAVIE SAVE ME!!!!"

This is going well. That man is smart... Things do not end up well when I panic. I rarely worry about anything. I am pretty low maintenance... I mean, you could leave me with a few paper clips and I could make up a game about 'how they are a family' and I could easily entertain myself for hours. But when I panic... Let's just say.... Well, the last time I panicked though, the sink and toilet at the school bathroom got ripped out of the wall and floor and water got everywhere. The teachers never found out who did it, but this truly delinquent boy-Xander- at our school got blamed for being a "peeping Tom and for destroying public property". His punishment was --and still is-- legendary . Long story short, Travie will do anything to stop me from panicking.

"TRAVIE HELP ME HELP ME HURRY TRAVIE!!!!" I scream.

Time to put the master plan into action.

I grab a bucket of water and fill it. Hearing footsteps thundering towards me, I sprint to the balcony overlooking our game room. I spot a yellow rain jacket, fake microphone, videocamera, and stick-on beard. Perfect. All is according to plan. I position the camera and click the on-button. I slip the raincoat on, grab the microphone, and slap the beard on. Luckily I have experience getting dressed quickly from waking up 2 minutes before we have to leave and somehow managing to be on time...

Footsteps thunder in my direction.

Keep a straight face, keep a straight face...

Awww shoot. I failed at that.

Trav throws the door to our game room open with such force that I begin to question if we are in the midst of a thunder storm.

I grab a watering can filled to the brim with icy water that I was supposed to water the plants with earlier (oops...) and dumped it over the railing. Flicking the light switch on and off, I began to bang the cymbals that Travie used to play that were left scattered on the floor of the game room, like so many of the other toys from our childhoods.

I snap out of it and plaster a big ol' weatherman grin on my face, sorta like the Cheshire Cat. "And that, ladies and gentleman, is a demonstration about the weather that we are expireancing right now. The demonstration was.... exelentè! Thank you Trav Everett for demonstration! Now, for the big news stories of the day! First of all, we have-" I am rudely interrupted from my news program by Travie tackling me. "Get off me, you oaf! Security! SECURITY SECURITY THIS IS AN OUTRAGE I DEMAND FOR THIS RUDE LITTLE TWO TIMING BEAVER TWIT TO BE TAKEN OFF OF ME THIS VERY INSTANT!!!" I wail. "I AM A HELPLESS WEATHERMAN AND AM BEING ATTACKED BY A LUNITIC!!! HELP MEEEEEEE"

Travie grins an evil grin at me. "Mom and Dad are running errands and want me to 'babysit you'" He snickers making quotation marks in the air at the words, 'babysit you'.

I audibly gulp. Oh crap. No. ANYTHING BUT THIS!! PLEASE NO. Travie babysitting me?! Please. What are my parents thinking? I babysit kids all the time, by myself, may I add, and they want Travie to babysit me?!? I should be babysitting him!

After thinking my new plan through, I smirk."Well, Travie," I chuckle, putting emphasis on 'Travie'. "I believe that you have to drive me to school. Right now. You don't want me to tell mom that you made me late..."

Now it's his turn to panic. "Are you sure you couldn't skip..." He trails off, seeing how useless it is by the look on my face.

"Travie, telling me to skip?" I let out a fake gasp. "Something tells me that mother wouldn't let you off the hook for this shenanigan..." I utter in mock disappointment.

Travis's shock clearly registers on his face. "Okay. Give me a minute to get all snazzed up, and we'll be on our way." Trav shoots me a sassy look, snaps his fingers, and walks away, singing 'Single Ladies' under his breath. Beyoncé is like his idol, but he'd never admit it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Trav jogs down the hallway, sporting a fresh change of clothes, keys in hands. I sneak a glance in the mirror and head out to the car-port.

Get outta my way highschool. Here I come.