How Nick Michaelson Got Into Tabbie Holmes' Pants

Chapter Four: Wednesday

"Damn gasket blew again hun."

My dad came into the house covered in dirt and black oil. He had one of moms "good towels" draped over his left shoulder. She must have let him keep it after last Christmas when he used the towel to clean up the wine he had spilled on the rug.

"You going to send it to Hurley's?" my mom asked as she looked up from her mixing bowl. I'd been helping her all morning preparing for the football fundraiser. This year she decided to sell her blueberry muffins instead of vanilla and chocolate cupcakes, either way she was going to be sold out

Popping his head into the kitchen, Dad gave my mom a serious look. "The day I let that pig Hurley put a finger on my car is the day we invite him over for dinner. And when that happens I want to be cold in my grave for fifty years."

Mom shook her head. A grin formed from the corner of her mouth, "Henry Michaelson" was all she said.

I let a few chuckles escape as dad walked away. He and Hurley had a long rival history. Dad and Hurley were best friends in middle school until my mom came into the picture. They both fought to get her and of course dad won. Yoko much?

"Don't know why your daddy can't just reconcile with Hurley." mom sat a plate of eggs, sausage and cornbread in front of me. Lightly stroking my messy hair she kissed me on my forehead and went back over to the stove mumbling to herself.

"Dad just doesn't want to admit that he was in the wrong." I began shoving spoonfuls of eggs and sausage in my mouth. Letting out a few exaggerated moans and winked at my mother. But who am I kidding I could never fake a foodgasm with her cooking.Still though she loved the attempt I made to make her smile too early in the morning.

"Any food left for me?"

I nearly choked on my sausage when I heard Ken's voice. He had been gone for God knows how long and now he's back on the day that I'd been looking forward to since...well yesterday. Last night I invited Tabbie over for lunch and I wanted everything to be perfect. And you'll never see perfect and Ken in a sentence unless there's a never in front of the perfect.

I turned to face my older brother. He was looking like his usually drunk self. He had on the same clothes I last seen him in. Dingy white t-shirt, faded bleached jeans and his ratted work boots he's had since I was like five. As far as I knew these were the only pair of clothes Ken owned. Nevertheless underneath all the dirt, liquor and anger I could see the older brother that used to carry me on his back when I was younger and the same exact brother who helped me build my first birdhouse, granted Matt and I blew it up with fireworks the next day. Now he was this man I couldn't stand and wished we disappear forever.

"I didn't even know you were here!" mom squealed as she took out the cornbread batter from the fridge, "When did you get in?"

Rolling my eyes I turned around. Ken was about to have a day long conversation with our mother about his "adventures". If sleeping at abandoned homes and cold bus stations then I guess I'm missing out on all the excitement.

"Early this mornin'. Hey baby brother, I didn't see you there." Ken walked over to the counter I was eating at. I could smell is stale must and sweaty foot odor. He needed a serious deep cleansing.

"Jesus! Ken...I'm trying to eat here." I quickly covered my nose and grabbed my plate, heading for the dining table.

"Could you go wake up Matt, his food is ready!" my mom called out from inside the kitchen.

"If I can find his room!" I shrieked, "I swear to God I'm blind mom...Ken blinded me with his-his-ugh!" gagging I wiped my tongue with a napkin. Senses were a bitch when they loved to merge together.