Hi guys, I'm so proud of myself. This is my 3rd update this week (I think). I wonder how long I can keep up this streak...anyways, for an update on stats: I now have 350+ reads/views, 9 votes, and FINALLY 1 comment! Maybe that's why I updated so early...*wink, *wink, *nudge, *nudge... This chapter is dedicated to jennaringpop again for being my first commenter:) Anyways, sorry for boring you, I'm just going to stop rambling and let you read the story. Oh, one more thing, all of the sentences with asterisks, or * those thingies have references to other books or movies and will be explained at the end of the chapter if you're not familiar with the reference. OK, now I'm actually going to stop right...now.
"MOM, I'M HOME!" I yell into the empty house. No reply. Huh. I take the maze that my house has in order to get to the kitchen, and I see a glow around the entire room.
A figure pops out of the wall and screams, "SURPRISE!"
I shriek and I look closely at the figure, a slim woman with prominent collar bones and large, blue eyes peek up at me from under a mask complete with a fake nose and a mustache/glasses attached.
I slow my breathing down, and my mom comes near me and wraps me in a hug to (I think) balance out the trauma that had happened a few seconds earlier.
No such luck mom.
"Mom, as much as I love you, I think I just died for a couple of seconds, I swear, I don't think there was a pulse, or a heartbeat, or anything, for a couple seconds there."
"LENORA MOORE, NO SWEARING IN THE HOUSE! How many times do I have to tell you not to say "I swear" and all the other hurtful words that accompany it? You're seventeen now, and I don't want to have to lecture you anymore then I have to, but you know how I feel about the SWEARING!"
I try to make my breaths slow and even, because right now, I'm in the "I can't even" mode.
"Mom. Saying "I swear" isn't going to hurt anybody's feelings. It literally just emphasizes a point. The only thing that you should honestly watch out for are swear WORDS, not the phrase "I swear"."
My mom just looks at me and huffs, looks back at the birthday cake and says, "The candles are almost melted Lenny! Quick! Blow them out before we eat wax instead of chocolate!"
I look at the birthday cake. To put it quite simply: it looks like the equivalent of Channing Tatum, otherwise known as the epitome of deliciousness.
I look at all seventeen candles, make a wish (of course I'm not going to tell you what the wish was, it might not come true if I do!), and I blow: none of them out.
I look at my mom, and she just starts laughing. "Don't look at me, you got your father's weak lungs."
The tips of my lips twitch into a smile.
My dad.
The guy that used to haul me up onto the monkey bars every day that he was back from serving.
The guy that used to blow out all my birthday candles with me because I could never do them all.
That guy, my dad, died a long time ago due to his arch nemesis: lung cancer.
He used to smoke a lot, but apparently, that wasn't the only reason he got it. My dad had fought in the Vietnam War, and when he was serving, he was in a vehicle that had set off a bomb. When the bomb was set off, he and a lot of others were thrown off of the vehicle, and out of the eight people riding in it, only three had survived. One of them was my dad. He had been flung safely off, but he did end up needing a disc to straighten out his neck, and he had also broken his leg.
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The Haircut
Teen Fiction"Short hair removes obvious femininity and replaces it with style." - Joan Juliet Buck If you were to get one haircut, what would it be? Maybe a shoulder-length cut, or a pixie-cut, but certainly not a mushroom cut, right? Well what happens when Len...
