Toys R'nt Us

Waffles, Anyone?

WARNING: THIS BOOK CONTAINS VIOLENCE, STRONG LANGUAGE... and some minor sexual content.

Does anyone here want a book that's the combination of a mystery/action/thriller type thing and humor? I always thought the best books were the ones that scared you just a bit but had a hilarious protagonist. The ones that kept you up late at night either scaring you (admit it you were scared) or laughing so hard the people around you think you're insane. So trust me, this will be one of those books. Good luck. ;)

COPYRIGHT2014

Prologue:

I slowly opened my eyes as I propped myself up on my elbows and gazed happily around my room. My room was spotless, giving it a fresh clean smell as sunlight streamed through my lacy pink curtains, effectively lighting up the entire room. I pulled my feet out of my fluffy pink comforter and plopped them into my warm bunny slippers. I looked in the mirror as I walked past it and saw that my long, wavy blond hair was completely knot-free. Yay me!! Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I made my way into the kitchen, following the smell of freshly-made blueberry waffles and greeted my smiling mother. Today was going to be a great day!

Wouldn't that be a lovely way to wake up in the morning, every day?

Too bad that's not how I woke up. Then, at least, I would have had a nice start to the horrible day ahead.

Instead....

I woke up to the sounds of thunderous yelling shaking the entire mobile home. I knew who was yelling almost immediately, terrifying me out of my wits. I wanted to cry and remain sheltered under my blue sheets as long as I could.

I ripped off the pale blue sheets and practically scampered from the bed. Unfortunately, my foot landed on a small yellow Lego, one of the pieces to my little brother's favorite sets. Swearing every curse imaginable, I set the damn Lego on my cluttered nightstand, shoving aside some forgotten homework and letting it fly to the floor. I pulled a nasty, stained grey hoodie over my head, the one I only wore around the mobile home. I dodged assorted clothes, other evil little Legos and every other thing you'd expect to be lying around in a shared bedroom. I glanced at my little bro's bed, which was not surprisingly empty, at his tiny little Spider-Man bed sheets, and at the sign I had made for him in fifth grade, which only read,"Vinny". Outside, it was storming, hard. It had been storming for the past couple of days, the weather being blamed on Hurricane Katrina, global warming, or whatever other crap people thought was causing it. After grabbing several small buckets to collect the water leaking from the hundreds of soft spots in our trailer's roof (damn rain), I practically ran my way into what was supposed to be a living room, following the sounds of yelling and screaming. Instead, the "living room" was tiny area with too many pieces of HUGE mismatched furniture, smothered in a layers of my father's cigar buds and smelled like enough rank alcohol to satisfy Miley Cyrus. It came as no surprise that we had cockroaches in the bathroom.

I noticed little Vinny, my six year old brother, crouched hidden in the corner of the hallway, snuggling his fat orange tabby cat and telling him everything was going to be okay. Really, it should have been me telling Vinny it was going to be okay but, at the moment, I was trying to prevent World War III from unfolding. My older brother, Garret, who was practically (but not yet) eighteen and my father were fighting again. They did this a lot, but recently they seemed to be doing it at least once a day. Now, it seemed worse then before.

My father's large leather recliner was empty; a bad sign. Robert Winchester, my father, who was at least 300 pounds at minimum, never left his chair unless his needs were dire (aka: he had left the TV remote out of his arm's length). Mostly, he just sent one of his three slaving children; Vinny, Garret, or me to do things for him. That meant picking him up a bucket of slimy Kentucky Fried Chicken or buying him either a new pack of cigarettes or his morning dose of vodka.