"Football is a Man's Sport" My Derriere.

"Football is a Man's Sport" My Derriere. {9}

***If you want advice on how to write a story please read***

My mom actually got me this book and it along with my rugged talent, help me get up to the what's hot list! so now I'm giving it to you. Here's the link:

http://acbb3a-cl2-htq66tjrxtye746.hop.clickbank.net/

another filler chappie, but i think you'll enjoy it. most of these experiences have actually happened in my family, so please. enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Football is a game played with arms, legs and shoulders but mostly from the neck up."

--Knute Rockne

My father folded and unfolded his hands, staring at Van in what could only described as diluted hatred. "So." He said in a steely voice. "You want to stay for dinner?"

Van gulped. "Yes sir." His voice didn't crack, which was a good thing. I would've hit him myself if it did.

"Well then. Take a seat." The sentence was friendly and inviting; the voice was not. Van looked at me sideways like 'are you sure this is a good idea?'. I nodded encouragingly. So he reluctantly (and cautiously), walked into the kitchen, pulling out a chair and sitting beside me. "Ty, say grace." Dad said.

Ty, who would usually just say 'grace' and start eating, caught his mood and actually prayed. "Dear God, that you for this food, thank you for giving some people--" he shot a not so discreet look at me--"the ability to cook, and please, Lord, spare Van. He shouldn't die so early. And if father does kill him, at least spare his immortal soul. Amen."

"Amen." Everyone said. Van looked a little scared as he dug into the lemon chicken and rice. Kale nudged me and whispered, "What'd he mean when he looked at you when he said can't cook?"

"Liz couldn't boil water to save her life. And you need to learn how to whisper properly." Gabe said, digging into his food. Kale ignored the last comment and asked. "For real?"

"Really." Ty answered. "Once, she tried to cook pancakes on a paper plate in the microwave."

"And another time, she filled a plastic cup with water and dropped an uncooked egg in, put it on ten minutes and left it."

"What happened?" Van asked, smirking at me.

"The microwave exploded." My dad grinned, looking at me. I frowned indignantly. "I can cook something!"

"What? Your famous black cookies?"

"Chunky macaroni and cheese?"

"I can cook chicken!" I said. My mom snorted. "No, you can't sweetheart. The chicken was pink and dripping."

"I still say that was a plot to kill us all." Ty said.

"It was cooked, it was just...ultra rare." I said, pouting. Everybody was quiet for a minute and then they cracked up laughing. I folded my arms. Onn one hand I was glad everyone was getting along. On the other, they were all laughing at me. Oh well. What can you do?

"Mommy?" Jayden said tiredly, rubbing her eyes. She was clutching her teddy in one hand and her blanket in the other. Jay had been sleeping in the livingroom, worn out from the party earlier. My mom patted her lap. She shuffled over to her and hopped up onto her lap, smiling at all of us. "What's so funny?"

"Liz's cooking."

"Oh. Hey, do you remember the time when she tried to help me make brownies for my school?"