The walking cliche

Don't worry, I wrapped my pickle

"Jake, I'm hungry." My little sister tugged at my tshirt. Why she was whining to me, I had no idea. It's not like I could cook anything other than microwaved crap.

Gotta love microwaved crap.

"Just ask mom." I answered Emma.

That would get her off my back for at least two seconds.

"MOM FOOD!"

I was wrong. I figured she was gonna run to our mom but she just started yelling like a crazy person. It's a miracle the neighbors had never called the cops before with all the noise that little girl could make.

"What?" My mom appeared with a tired look on her face. She was about to take a shower after a very long shift at the hospital. What she needed was a good night sleep. Or to be screwed multiple times.

But she's my mom so let's go for the sleep.

"Jake, there should be some food in the cupboards. Would you mind checking?" My mom sighed. I really didn't want to but she looked like hell.

I shrugged and went to the kitchen. The cupboards were painfully empty.

"Well?" Emma jumped up and down, her dark brown hair flying all over the place.

"Look for yourself." She shrieked when I picked her up so she could take a better look.

"Cereal?" She pouted.

"No way! If you wanna be as tall as me, you're gonna have to eat a little more than cereal, you little dwarf." I teased.

I was hungry. I'm a growing boy with a healthy appetite.

Jake needs food.

"Come on." I let Emma hang on my arm like a little monkey. She was giggling so hard, she didn't even realise what we were doing.

"Shoes." I said.

Emma looked confused for a bit.

"Emma, put your shoes on. Don't stand there like a sleeping fish!" She giggled again. It was nice she didn't get offended that easily. I hoped that'd never change.

Whenever I was out with a girl and I'd tell her that her dress looked tight they'd get offended and went on a rant about diets and being fat and by then I'd usually zone out. All I meant was that the dress looked freaking tight. That's it.

I guess I preferred the ones that didn't talk that much. Those must exist, right?

"My shoes are on! Are we going out for ice cream?" Emma asked innocently. Nice try kid.

"We're going out for dinner and if you behave maybe youcangetsomeicecreamifyou'rereallynice." I mumbled the last part of my sentence.

"Yay!" And she was off running around the house again. Apparently she had heard me.

"Oh? We're going out?" My mom appeared in the kitchen while drying her hair with a towel.

"No food. Need food." I deadpanned.

"Are we talking like cavemen now? Behave." My mom reprimanded.

"Jake happy after food." I said challenging.

My mom shook her head.

"Give me ten minutes." She shouted while walking back to the bathroom.

"I'll give you five!" I yelled after her. I knew she'd ignore that. You try living with one and a half women. It's not an easy feat.

By the time my mom was ready, Emma was being a little brat. The kid got angry when she was hungry. Luckily I had experience with that since a few of my friends are the same way.