Strange ~||mcr||~

Chapter One

C H A P T E R O N E

C A R V E R

When you wake up, what do you expect? A nice "Good morning, dear," from a wonderful mom? Fresh berries and pancakes? A kiss on the top of the head from a dad off to work? Or even a full day of amusement park or water slides?

Well, you are very different from me.

When I wake up, its to an old alarm clock stuck on the static station. When I have breakfast, I have oatmeal with cinnamon. Not pancakes. I don't get a kiss on the head from my dad. At the very least I get a slobbery kiss from one of my "siblings". And my day isn't fill with entertainment of any sort. My day is filled with taking care of my many "brothers" and "sisters" who are to young to be left alone. I'm basically their nanny. It's horrible.

Why? Do you ask? Why, does this normal girl live in such compromising conditions? The answer is: because I'm not. I'm not normal. I'm anything but.

See, when I was born, my mom barely looked at me before she ditched me at Messie's Home for Children. I wish I could say its because I have a condition. Heck, I'd even take cancer. But no, she abandoned me before I was even a month old, because I am part cat.

Don't laugh, I'm being serious.

I was born with two little white cat ears poking out of my skull, (in addition to my human ears), and a long white tail. And apparently, that's good enough reason for a woman to ditch her child on a doorstep.

Part cat. Hmm. Not exactly perfect normality.

So, now that you know my sap-story, you won't have to ask me any questions.

Anyway, back to the wake-up thing.

So, I wake up a stupid alarm clock going,"RRRRAAAXHLLLIPPPSSSHAAACLKKKDSARRRNNLRRRPIIOOONNBBBPPP!!!!" shrilly in my ear. I get up, brush my blond hair (avoiding the ears), pop on some skinny jeans, a flannel shirt and a beanie of my choice and head out of my dorm room and downstairs.

When I get downstairs, it's utter chaos as usual. Every single one of the forty or so orphans at Messie's were crowded around a single middleschool lunch table. And ever single one was rushing to scoop oatmeal with cinnamon, apple slices and burntish toast onto their plates.

I sighed. Business as usual.

"HEY!" I screamed, louder than even the noisiest toddler,"YA'LL SHUT UO RIGHT NOW!"

Sure enough, everyone froze and quieted.

"That's better," I smiled, walking over and grabbing a plate for myself. Then, after plopping my own food onto my plate, I said,"Now, you may continue. Quietly."

Syrupy sweetness dripped from my words as the children nodded and started the shove-mob once again, this time a bit quieter.

You may be wondering why they are obeying me. The answer is simple. They are scared. I am the oldest person at Messie's. At seventeen years and ten months, I'm several heads taller than anyone here could reach and I have a much louder voice.

I'm large and in charge.

"Thank you for that, dear," a frail voice came from behind me as I stood observing the crazed orphans.

I turned around to see Miss Messie Higgenbottom, the proprietor or this fine establishment. Miss Messie is an old lady of about seventy-five, with tiny features and huge glasses. I knew she couldn't take these children. They would rip her to shreds.

That's why I help. I am the second oldest, next to Miss Messie, so I basically do all the heavy lifting. Sometimes literally.

"No problem Miss M," I smile,"Its no problem at all."

"You are such a dear," Miss Messie croaks as she wipes her forehead with a floral handkerchief. She looked at me regrettably, then she asks me,"What are you doing to day?"

"Same old, same old. Why?" I reply through my apple slice mush.

"There are some visitors coming today. So you think you could help ready the children?"

"Of corse," I sigh. It's not like I could just say no to an old lady supporting forty kids all at once.

I put my plate down on the nearest shelf and walk back over to the children. Now, they crowded aroud the table, some sharing seats with friends, some just standing or sitting on the floor. The bigger kids had the smallest ones in their laps. It was a sweet sight.

I put two fingers to my lips, and blew, causing a shrill whistle to crack through the room. Every single kid stopped their conversations and turned to stare at me. Ahh, I loooove power.

"Okay, kids. You know what day it is," I barked, keeping my voice loud but polite at the se time for the little ones,"We've got parents coming, and we need this place spik-and-spand."

All at once the group started talking. But at my glowering look, they quieted down. I'm a very commanding person.

"Okay, ages twelve to me, take cleaning duty. I want no finger smudges on those window; no dust on those tables. Go, go, go!"

About one fourth of the kids hopped up and raced to the cleaning closet. They were a bit to old to be adopted, but they had some hope.

"Ages nine to twelve, take ages zero to three, and fix them up. No barf, no bogeys, or no babies will be adopted. Go!"

The rest of the relatively tall kids grabbed the babies that were previously on the big kids' laps, and raced upstairs.

"The rest of you, take all the plates, clean the dishes an then meet me upstairs, dressed and pressed. Go, go, go!"

The remaining children hopped from the table, grabbing several plates each, then raced to the kitchen to clean up.

This was going to be a long day.

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UNEDITED

How's that for a first chapter? I could have gone longer but I wanted to publish today. Little over 700 words this time. Like the length?

Two votes and one comment for the next chapter. Kay?

Thanks,

-Fangzillas