I Shot The Bad Boy | ON HOLD

i farted on his cake

"Ouch!" I yell, as hot liquid pours from the wooden spoon, over my arm, and inside my pain grey shirt.

Great! This is what happens when you don't listen to your mom. Before she...passed away, she had made plenty of efforts to sculpt my knowledge around cooking. Being the adventurous kid I was, I had absolute no interest in mixing up random spices, and vegetables.

Not that I ever thought I needed to. The pea sized brain I unfortunately had for a section of my life, just thought I could order takeout everyday three times a day. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't that bad of a cook, when the circumstances consisted of me being the one eating my own food, but when it came to someone else....

"How do you not know how to make soup?" Chris stretched out, shaking his head while he and my dad stood at the door way, arms crossed. They didn't even bother to help, but were more than happy to insult me.

"I don't like soup okay!" It was all slimy, smooth, and- and you shouldn't get me started, because once I get started the list of my sensible reasons could put google to shame.

I put down the wooden spoon, on the white marble top, and quickly rushed to the sink pouring cold faucet water on me. Then I quickly ran out of our spacious kitchen, and rushed into the bathroom nit bother to close the door.

With my clothes still on, I jumped into the tub, and twisted the handle to get ice cold water pour straight down on me. After getting over the initial shock of the coldness, I sighed in relief.

I wish there was school today, but it had been cancelled because of the shooting. If there was school, I would at least get a chance to think of a lame excuse, but an excuse nonetheless, as to why I couldn't call them. Even if I had a whole day to do.

My punishment wasn't that bad, because really Chris and my dad couldn't say no to my pouty face, to any pouty face really. Only my mom could do that. So I just got doing something I absolutely dreaded, but still could manage to do without killing myself.

Instead of going back to the kitchen, I go upstairs to my room.

My eyes slowly scanned the interior of my room; plain grey walls with posters plastered in every direction, of books and movies, a floor length mirror, and a bed with black comforters.

I plop down on my bed, twisting my head, anticipating the satisfying cracks.

Slowly but surely, the silent atmosphere was hypnotizing me, and putting my my both metal and physical self into a deep slumber. But nothing good ever lasted in this world, for me anyways, because just when I thought I would actually get a good dose of sleep, my phone went off.

I would just ignore it, if I could but I couldn't. I was one of those people that couldn't ignore the small stuff, and especially since I don't get messages. From anyone besides Chris, and occasionally my dad.

I rolled down from my bed, landing with a thud, and eagerly slammed my hand onto the nightstand feeling around for my phone. When I opened the message, it read 'Unknown.' I don't know why or how, but something in my mind instantly clicked and made me think that this was Alex.

I don't know how he managed to get my number.

xxx-xxx-xxxx
I think I deserve a thank u, don't u think?

LiraTowers35@gmail.com
What do u want now?!

xxx-xxx-xxxx
How rude! I just saved ur a$$, and everyone else's too!

LiraTowers35@gmail.com
What are you talking about? U didn't save anyone's a$$

xxx-xxx-xxxx
I DID! How do people have such bad memory 🙄