Two Thousand Sunsets From You

decisions.

Victoria ceased her awful shrieking once again. God, this woman could seriously laugh like some sort of deranged clown, or sound something like a bad record, he mused. She reminded him of some woman he'd seen on one of the comedy shows where they showed those terrible home videos gone wrong. He couldn't place the woman to save his life, though.

"You realize she's going to literally let us have a piece of her mind come morning, right?" Of course he realized it, he'd lived with that strong-willed little girl for an entire year at this point. But then again, maybe she could be forgiving of their antics. It was doubtful at best, but there were many such miracles in the world.

"Noooo, I doubt that. She'll probably just make us some scrumptious breakfast in that Easy-Bake oven of hers and then she'll make sure we eat it. Then I'm sure she'll be fine." This was worse. So, so much worse than her yelling at them come morning. That Queasy-Bake--oops, Easy Bake oven would surely be the death of both of them. Rainy liked to cook them "cookies" and special "cakes" on holidays: which seemed to be almost every day for her. It honestly took everything inside both of them each time Rainy cooked not to puke up the likely poisonous, cardboard-tasting treats she concocted in that cursed machine of hers. Ben had grown a slight suspicion that Rainy used it as some sort of medieval torture device to get back at them when she didn't get her way, or just when she didn't like something they did. Come to think of it, she did make him three whole batches of plastic-tasting goodies just yesterday after he'd refused to take her to the park... but hey, it was pouring rain...

Victoria's entire body immediately turned green as she seemed to be threatening to "toss some cookies", or so she liked to say when Rainy would get sick and throw up. Except she was really probably considering tossing some cookies of her own at the mere thought of those horrid.. things that she'd be faced with come morning time. 

He followed her down the slim, darkly lit hallway, turning right and stepping carefully down the antique yet sleek, slate gray hardwood stairs comprising their beautifully spiraling staircase. He found himself holding onto the rail, one that was attached in a snaking, winding motion that followed the direction of the stairs, for dear life because God forbid he trip and fall again that night. Honestly, he couldn't even imagine what a tumble down those steps would to do someone even half as clumsy and woefully unlucky as himself.

Victoria was stepping down the stairs quickly when she stopped abruptly at the end of the stairwell, reaching to the left side and to the only wall close to those steps, and flipped on the lights. No doubt for him. Wow, that would have made sense to literally turn the freaking lights on in the first place, Ben, his internal voice chastised him. See? This is why you basically die from these simple little death traps you like to call stairs almost every single day. Ben made it to the bottom of the stairs, silently cursing himself for his stupidity and somehow miraculously not finding a way to roll down them which, knowing him, would most likely have resulted in crushing his own neck and spinal column in the process. Victoria would have laughed at that like most things having to do with his untimely demise.

Evil little wench.

In fact, she did laugh at him in that moment. It was a brief, lighthearted laugh: the kind she didn't normally seem to use. Then she let him have much, much more scolding than he desired. "I mean, I guess we're going to just stand here and pretend like you don't literally fall down those stairs like twice a week, Ben." She paused, looking up at him to completely catch and maintain his attention. "I mean, maybe if you learned what the words 'let me turn the lights on so I can see and maybe not fall to my death and therefore inconvenience my roommate with coming home to my dead body' meant then maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't have to fear coming home to your twisted, dead figure sprawled out across my nice hardwood one day."