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Two

An adventure.
That was the promise and the premise.

A Premise Promise.

Honestly? I was completely out of my depth.
But I was also bored.
Bored out of my mind.

Although come to think of it, that's an extremely strange saying. You can't really be bored out of your mind. The whole horror of being bored is that you're trapped inside of it. If I was bored out of my mind I would have done something crazy like... Cut off my hands then replace them with an egg beater and a plunger, chasing around kids like a human Dalek. And at that point I would have defeated boredom.

But that would have taken a lot of blood, quite a bit of sweat and a pot full of tears.

No. I was bored. The kind of bored that seems to self-propagate itself and any attempt to not be bored will be met with every bone in your body aching with

"No... Don't do anything... We're too BORREEED."

Too bored to not be bored. Hopeless, I know.

I certainly don't have the right to be bored.
For instance, I :

-Have a well enough functioning family.
-Have a small but effective group of friends.
-Own two videogame consoles as well as a portable.
-Am fit enough to play sport.
-Am white and male enough to have a job. Ooh, topical. Shut up.
-Am currently on (and this is the winner) my 'high school has finished' holidays.

What reason do I possibly have for being bored?
I recall telling my parents I was bored when I was younger and every time they seemed to just completely ignore the dilemma. I'm not sure if boredom has evolved through the decades but this always astounded me. Do they not know true boredom? The torture it yields?
Maybe I'm exaggerating.
Maybe I'm rattling on.
But what can I say? I'm bored.

It was suburbia. A sunny day. Not remarkably so, but the sky was sky-blue and there were nice looking clouds about. You see, today was Saturday. My favourite day.

It always felt like the most larrikin day out of the seven to choose from.
Monday and Tuesday were rather uptight little pricks.
Wednesday was the sports teacher who would just push his class a little over the brink.
Thursday was the cool kid, drinking soda past 9:30 and whatnot. Still played by the rules, though, and would try his best not to get into trouble.
Friday had a split personality. The bubbly yet careful little lady who would scold herself for so much as bumping into anyone, and the nigh-freakish party animal who wouldn't give a damn if she chainsawed her best friend's legs off in the heat of the moment.
Saturday was there.
Sunday likes to hang out and walk down the streets with his mates, but you can bet he'll be in bed by twelve.

So Saturday was great. So chilled and content with not really doing anything.
Saturday was also the day I had to get bread and milk.
Now, you might think the bread and milk trip is a bit cliché. I agree. I'm not too sure how it happened but now it's just what I do.

So I was walking back from the shops. Bread and milk in a plastic bag.
Past the brown building.
Past the grey building.
Past the fast food joint.
And then... Five minutes later I was home.

But take an hour away one week fast forward and our story begins.
I hope it doesn't bore you.