furbies aren't really that cursed

groggy beginnings

bleary-eyed, i shuffled my way down the stairs. mother had already made breakfast, and now cleaned up any dishes left dirty. once i got close enough to the island, i could see that the meal i would be eating was... oatmeal. with some sort of raspberry purée mixed in, it was tinted pinkish and gave off a sweet aroma. i sat in my typical seat, next to my brother, asiago. he was brown like me.

"how was your sleep, yuck?" my father asked, never looking up from his phone. he never looked up, except for when necessary.

"it was okay. normal." turning to asiago, i asked, "dah-no-lah?"

"doo? dah-ee-tah." he confirmed.

our parents were used to this seemingly gibberish. they never understood what we said... it was a made up language that we used to avoid parental questions. there was only one dictionary, and asiago kept it in a hidden place with his juul and money stash. not even i know where it is. anyways. i'd asked him if he'll go to the school-wide party tonight. he confirmed with a... "big yes."

a buzz from my hoodie pocket made me jump, and then jump up.

"asiago, we must commit bo-doo-ay! quickly, now." we rushed to complete our meals, thanked the mother, and rushed out the door to asiago's beat up feep. he turned the key ((with immense speed)) and before the clutch even knew what was happening, we were around the block.