In this life, everyone has kinks. No, not the sick, perverted type that you're thinking about you fuck (although I might get into that later on in the story. Sit, wait, and see.). Kinks, like little things that may bother the others around you, or set you apart from them. Some people, the more extroverted types, have more kinks than the introverts, or what people in today's society may call "The Weird Ones." You mix weird kinks (Both sexual and etc.) , with very extroverted people and slam them together in a hot pile of horseshit, and you get the Rollins family. One group of people that I, Mack, son of Emily and Hugo, am proud to say I'm apart of. There's no perfect way to describe us, but if you'd have to use one word, I'd bet it would be "different." Truth is, we weren't different. We just lived by "You only live once, and giving Zero fucks about anything was the best way to live life." We were free spirits and that's just how it is, how it was, and how it will be. Now, you've heard enough about my ass. Now onto the family. The ones that live with me. The rest, we'll talk about later. Here, you'll get to witness all of our adventures, no matter how fucked up they maybe. So, sit back, this should be hella fun.
It's 10:00 at night on a cold ass day in the month of January. I'm sitting alone in the kitchen, sitting on a high stool,reading a comic book. Deadpool, if you want specifics. I hear creaking coming from the steps and turn my head to see who it is. My mom walks into the kitchen, wearing a pink robe on her body, a pink towel wrapping her hair, and that green face cleaning shit that you see those prissy girls on those movies wearing. I look up and laugh as she goes to the fridge pulling out the milk carton. My mom, the wonderful and beautiful, Emily Torres. Mother of 6, but take on single look at her and you wouldn't believe it one bit. Mom's name would be Rollins, but long story short, my mom and dad aren't "together" per say. They should be, but everything seems alright, they still love each other...very much. I know, because I'm in the room above them. Moving on, Mom, or Emily, (choose whatever you want) is a nurse, working at the hospital downtown. I'd tell you the name if I hadn't forgotten it again. She's hardworking, and someone that I could truly call my best friend. She's great at advice, so if you (magical fantasy person I'm writing this to) need some, she's there. We pick on her a lot, but she takes it like a champ, most of her comebacks relating to the size of our dicks. I swear, whatever she's saying isn't true, unless it's good. Then, she isn't lying. She's also Italian, don't ask her to cook for you though. She nearly burned down the house, making a bowl of cereal. No exaggeration. Mom turned her head to me, an eyebrow raised "What?" she asked. I shook my head, flopping my comic down on the granite counter top. "Nothing, Sharpay. Pour me a glass of milk too?" She paused at me for a moment, giving me an angry Kanye West type face before responding with a middle finger. I raised my hands up in the air in playful innocence. "For your information," She started, pouring her and my glass and then sliding mine across the counter. I caught it with my left hand before taking a swig. "the avocado helps the skin glow."
"Alright, whatever." I say, putting a smirk on my face.
The door to the kitchen opened, and my dad, Hugo, popped his head in. "Mack, get in here, we're about to play-" His voice trailed of as he caught the sight of my mother. He snickered, "Damn, Em. Who goo'd on you, Shrek?" I burst out laughing, immediately clutching my ribs, while mom gave him another one of her classic looks.
Hugo, my pops. Recipient of the Dad of the Year award in my opinion, other might not think so. He's one of the most playful, childish, and fun-loving beings you'll ever meet in your life. Racist jokes are his forte, along with anything roasting. Mostly where I get my wit from. Some say he literally has the most luscious hair that you've ever seen in your life. I wouldnt argue. Imagine a beautiful cornfield, waving in the wind, except it was black. And instead of corn, it was hair. I tried to be poetic there, if you couldn't tell. Anyways, he's a Fifa addict, a lady killer, and a professional wrestler. He's also God. Don't question it. You'll get Pedigreed through the living room table. Ask my brother, Matthew.
