BETTER SAFE THAN ZOMBIE

OZTS 5| Omelette

"Could you guys please stop doing that? It makes me want to puke."

Hazel stopped shoving her tongue down Ethan's throat and spared me a glance. "We're doing you a public service. Who doesn't want to see two perfect human beings make out?"

"Yeah," agreed Ethan. "Our saliva is practically gold."

"Don't talk about your saliva," I said. "Please."

"Why wouldn't you want us to talk about our saliva?" asked Hazel. "Our saliva are the very height of supremacy."

Ethan nodded. "It's first-rate. It's practically a holy artifact."

"Famous for its excellency. Superior than any other. Preeminence."

Ethan looked at Hazel. "Hey, that's a SAT word."

They both high-fived each other.

"I take back my statement," I said. "You guys make me puke. I don't know why you even made me your friend, seeing as I pale next to your perfection."

"Well, someone needs to be the DUFF," Hazel said.

"DUFF?" I asked.

"DUFF." She nodded to me knowingly. "Designated Ugly Fat Friend. In other words, the friend who drives her pretty drunk best friends home because she couldn't manage to hook up with somebody. Its a system for the popular people."

"I hate you," I said.

The kitchen rang with the clangs of frying pans, and a moment later, Mrs. Blake stuck her head out of the doorway to wave at us. "Come on, girls. I need your help with cooking."

Hazel brightened. "I love cooking!"

She hurriedly went into the kitchen, and I heard Mrs. Blake instructing her in what to do.

"I didn't know Hazel loved being domestic," I told Ethan.

He looked just as confused. "Neither did I."

Right on cue, Mr. Williams approached us. "You girls starting to prepare lunch yet?" he asked, rubbing his stomach.

I hopped off from where I was sitting on the table and gestured at the kitchen. "Mrs. Blake and Hazel are at the kitchen."

"Hazel's cooking?" he asked, surprised.

"Yeah. I didn't know she knew how to cook."

"She doesn't. Tell them I have a stomachache."

He hurriedly got out of the room after throwing the kitchen a nervous glance.

"Methinks trouble's afoot," drawled Ethan. "And methinks it's going to be a funny one."

"I think I don't like the look on your face," I said.

He gave me a little smirk before sauntering into the kitchen yelling, "O, my beloved Williams! Your father refuses thy cooking. Methinks it sucks ass and I want to see thy humiliation."

I winced when I heard the sound of a frying pan hitting someone's head.

"Kathryn!" yelled Mrs. Blake. "Would you be a dear and get Ethan some ice?"

-

"No matter how I look at it, that's obviously a rock."

Hazel shook her head at us insistently. "No, it's obviously an omelette. I even made it heart-shaped."

I looked at the black thing that was on my plate before pushing it away. "I'm not eating it. I'd rather die."

Hazel glared at me. "That can be easily arranged. What do you want, an open or a closed casket?"