Not all Blondes do Backflips

10 - This Boy

Dedicated to potterheadandproud for the banner on the side.

Listen to This Boy by The Beatles or Miss Moving On by Fifth Harmony.

   

10 – This Boy

   

It took me a long time to master the art of flipping a pancake. 

So whenever I got the chance to show off my skills, I took them faster than a brainless teenager would grab the chance for a free iPhone.

Rosie and Jessie sat on stools by the breakfast bar, laughing as I showily poured batter into the frying pan and started flipping it when it was ready.  The whole time I was doing a horrible magician’s assistant impersonation.

Gasp.

Lennon Simms is acting like a dork.

Surprised that my foul-mouthed self has a wackadoodle side?

Well then, welcome to reality where people, crazy αss bιtches included, all have tiny quirks about them.

Boo hoo, I don’t have any quirks, Lennon. I’m too normal.  I’m not interesting.

Bullshιt.

No one in this world is normal.  Everyone is weird.

You can quote me on that because it’s just a fact of life.

Deal with it.

And while you are, you can cue the fυcking applause.

Paul, having witnessed this from me a thousand times before, just sat on the bar stool farthest from Rosie.

He wasn’t taking any chances and assumed that grogginess from having woken up only fifteen minutes ago would make Rosie more than ready to do some flipping of her own.  He wouldn’t admit it but my brother was scared that Rosie might be more into flipping people in the air, specifically him, than pancakes.

Fearless knight in shining armor, that brother of mine.

I’d say he was pathetic but stating something so obvious would just be pointless.

If you were wondering why the four of us were up at seven on a Saturday morning – though I can’t exactly figure out how you’d know about that bit since I hadn’t said it yet – we didn’t do it willingly. 

We had, after all, stumbled into our respective beds – with Jessie and Rosie bunking with me – just before 3 AM.  To add to all the shit we were dealing with, we had a whole day of cleaning that none of us were looking forward to. 

The fact that we hit the snooze button on my alarm five fυcking times tells you just how much I, and I’m sure everyone else, wanted to be in bed right now.  But we had a party-wrecked house to clean so we got up anyway. 

I hate being responsible.

Jessie and Rosie had already volunteered to help and had even volunteered their currently very inebriated brothers.

“Many hands make light work,” Rosie had chirped sleepily when I asked them if they were sure.

Now that cliche saying I could get behind of.

“Pancakes are done,” I announced, dropping the last pancake onto the gigantic pile I’d made.

“Great,” Paul hopped up off his stool.  “Now for the real fun,” he smiled evilly.