It's Family Business

Chapter 8: Also don't do binge watching kids - it's highly dangerous

Chapter 8|Don't do binge watching kids - it's highly dangerous

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When I raced home in my slightly underwhelming  car, which I'd bought second hand from one of my dads closest friends. I attempted a mad dash through the foyer to my room before my mother could great me like usual.

Why? You may ask.

Fortunately for you, I did not manage to escape the torment I was now about to endure as I tripped on the first couple of stairs and face planted the floor.

"Shit," I breathed against the marble, just as I heard the pause of shuffling kitchen towels and oven mitts.

Mother dearest, with her sharp ears and keen eyes flew out of where she was hiding - limbs ready to strike.

"Hello there my sweetheart! What's with the rush?" She welcomed in her overly saccharine filled smile. Mum was wearing her usual flour covered apron smelling of freshly baked goodies.

I pushed myself up and groaned as my back went bye-bye and my limbs practically screeched. I really needed to do some form of exercise. Apart from frantically escaping the clutches of my mother. I'm serious, it was probable that I'd be dead by next week.

"Oh there's no rush, I've just got to get ready for work, my shift starts early today." It didn't, but I could do with getting out the house before my mum made me do the house chores or worse, go for a jog. Plus my boss paid overtime and I needed the juicy pay check.

Oh you think living in this lavish home, with my rich parents made me exempt from the real world? Regrettably not.

Daddy dearest was oh so kind to strip away my allowance once I hit the ripe age of sixteen. My sweet sixteen wasn't so very...sweet.

"Gimme a kiss before you go upstairs and bring down your dirty laundry, I don't want to climb all the way to the attic for it." She leaned forward and presented me with her flour covered cheek.

I grimaced, but smacked a good one on her cheek. Then darted upstairs to grab the laundry and jump into the shower before she could say anything else.

Sue me. I'm not a bad kid - again with the whole debate on subjectiveness, blah blah. I just really really really don't like running up and down three flights of stairs every ten seconds as my mother orders away like an army general.

I practically glided up the stairs, red faced.This was like Ben Nevis on Heroine.

Once I succeeded in not fainting half way through the journey, the clack of small hooves brought me out of my unfit reverie and I squealed when I caught sight of a cute little fluff ball galloping towards me with velocity unlike anything I've seen.

"FALLIE!" I screamed, arms outstretched as I welcomed her into my arms. She raced into me with a loud "BAA!"

"Who's my good little girl?" I cooed, stroking her behind her ears like a dog. I looked into her eyes with a serious smile, but then the sight of her in one of my mums favourite pet outfits made me groan. Fallie looked at me in the overly sequinned, pink tutu as if to say, "I know, I look horrible," 

"Did my evil mother put you in this? No offence Fal, but you look like me back when wearing leg warmers used to be cool," She gave me a look, which for an animal was strikingly human.

"Come on, let's get you out of this and then I can go get changed myself." I walked up the remaining flights of stairs with Fallie in my clutches, giving myself a therapy session with a lamb who knew when to baa at the right thing.