Fight or Flight

Chapter 4: When popcorn attacks

Never before have I realised how hard it is to write news reports!!!!!

Shout out to Rileyyyyyyyyyy.....there's even more crazy Rachal!!!

"When I rule the world, how hard do you think it will be to control the media?" Rachel calls from inside the kitchen, popcorn pops aggressively in the background.

I choose not to indulge her dictator-ish fantasies by answering, instead I remain curled with a blanket waiting for the buttery goodness of popcorn to inhabit my mouth. I turn the T.V on, no longer willing to uphold my stretched patience. Rachel will come eventually, there's no point in waiting.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Soap opera...nope.

medical drama (that I thought was canceled years ago)... nope.

dirty cartoons...no thanks.

I flip through the channels, not giving any of this crap a second glance. A gory slasher movie catches my eye, but not for a very wholesome reason. Again I think about...ray, at first I regret even saying his name. Quivering I change the channel, but it was too late because now I am thinking about him. I've been good all day, Rachal has helped, but it was mostly me trying to keep myself distracted. I keep changing channel, simultaneously wondering about what Ray can do to me.

My living room is dark, the only light shining in is the T.V. Which infact is not all that bright, but it is bright enough to light a walking path for Rachal. She plops down on the chair next to the couch I lay on. Blankly she looks at the screen and offers me the bowl, which I accept eagerly. She gropes for the remote on my open palm, and continues my legacy of channel surfing.

80's sitcom... change.

cliche romance movie....pause for a moment....nuh-uh.

The news... nope

"wait! go back" she changes back to the news station.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"We have updates on the Missing girls case" the same stark newscaster from the night before speaks. "Late this afternoon the medical examiner ruled the girl's death foul play. They were all killed at around the same time, 4 days ago. Their tox screens revealed deadly amounts of arsenic, along with a cocktail of various poisonous household items, such as rat poison and weed killer. Homicide has warmed because of the similarity in the girl's deaths we might be looking at the works of a serial killer. We have no further information on this case. Up next does not eating breakfast actually help you lose weight, after these commercial messages."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Rachal grumbles unattractively before commenting on these recent events "Wow, these are the kind of things my dictatorship will stop!" you can tell she's joking, but, not. I don't know what to say in response to this statement, I could inform her on the errors of a dictatorship. I could go along with her playful delusion. I could imagine she really is a dictator try to pretend her reforms would somehow help me save myself from Ray. Instead I stay silent. I look her way hoping she notices my glance and assumes I thought of a snarky reply, but have chosen out of morality not to say it. I couldn't tell you if she read this deep into my glance but she doesn't say anything, as a distraction I throw a handful of popcorn at her face. More so to break the awkward silence than anything else. At first Rachel looks stunned, but quickly regains her mental footing and plots short lived revenge.

"Gurl, I don't think so! Eat this!!" resembling a socially awkward baseball player she pulls back her arm and releases a handful of popcorn! A Kernel hit my eye and three pieces get stuck in my hair, a normal person would be worried about a scratched cornea but I am worried about the oily fake butter in my hair. Quickly my wide-eyed expression turns into an over dramatic menacing squint, she mirrors my face but adds a tongue like miley Cyrus.

"Wrong. That was a mistake!" rasor fast reflexes come to my aid and feed my intense need to throw the metal bowl at her stomach.

"This means war. And yes I'm just that cool that in a popcorn fight I can quote Bugs bunny! SUCK IT!" we both laugh then continue bombarding each other with popped corn and oil. I hide behind the couch and she does the same under a table, she has the upper hand. The bowl...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

...10 hours later...

I woke up sprawled out on the couch, at first I enquire about the strange lawn mower going off at 6 in the morning. Atleast I wonder until rachal snorts, and then falls of the chair. Amazingly still asleep. I stand and immediately feel the throbbing in my head, along with the soar state of my throat and the bird nest hair....I look like a pile of dark haired crap.

The last thing I remember from last night was Rachel downing the remaining bottle of gin. Out of the corner of my eye I spy the empty bottle tipped over on the coffee table. My legs still feel wobbly but I am determined to stay on my feet, in attempts to reach the kitchen I trip on my foot. My chin hits the floor but by the time I get there I forget what's happening anyway, so I stay flat on the floor. Like a weird drunk-ish pancake, though I am missing something, a void only maple syrup can fill. And not any of that fake Aunt Jemima crap. It's my version of heroine, I need it real and I need it pure. I only buy the good stuff straight from Canada, a common mistake is that Vermont is the syrup capital of the world...real lovers know Canada is the way to go. I mean come on is it really that far of a metaphorical leap, their flag is a friggin maple leaf!

I groan and scratch the floor with my nails, what I am doing I can't say but I feel like a cat incarnated. Pawing at the floor.

"Start purring kitty" this is the first time I notice Rachal is awake, judging by her dark circles that has not been long. I look up to the clock and realise I have spent ½ an hour on the ground. Kneeling I dust myself off regretting I didn't have the mental capacity to brush my teeth last night as soon as I smell my breath. Gross.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Do you want any breakfast, I have water or.....yeah I have water. I'm too lazy to cook anything."

"Wow, you really like spoiling your guests don't you Kim?!" she rolls her eyes. "Fine okay I'll cook! Just tell me where you keep any food! One necessary criteria of food is calories which water does not fill!"

"What about those zero-calorie crackers?" I question her but in her face all I see is distain.

"NO! never even mention that stuff to me! ugh."

"There's Rachal....Food's in the pantry over there. And I think there might be some bacon in the fridge" we both walk into the kitchen, hungover as hell. Rachel grabs a frying pan from the cabinet and swings the fridge door open. With bacon in hand she heats the stove, turning the dial to high. Soon I start to hear the sizzle of bacon cooking on the frying pan, my mouth waters more and more every second. The bacon enters the final stretch of cooking as I take two small plates from a shelf. I like the faint click the glass makes as it hits the granite countertop. She tips the frying pan over one of the plates and pours the bacon in. The crisp tasty bacon.

Adorned with plates overflowing with bacon we glide to the table and place it gracefully down.

The salty sensation of pig butt dances intensely across my tough, reminding me of the Russian ballet.

"You know" rachel speaks in between scarfing bites of bacon "you should go to the police."

"Why?"

"Your creepy bus stalker!Get a restraining order or something."

I ALREADY UPDATED CHAPTER 5 BUT SOME PEOPLE CANT SEE IT SO PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU CAN....MAKE SURE IT DOESNT GO RIGHT TO CHAPTER 6 OR IY WONT MAKE MUCH SENSE