Robin, Boy Virgin: Original Series

I woke up late Saturday morning, to the sounds of breakfast being made downstairs. I rolled out of bed and slumped downstairs. I paused before entering the kitchen and peered in, checking that if Linda were here, she was fully dressed.

She was wearing sweat shorts and a button down shirt of my dad's. At least she was wearing a form of pants. Linda gaily jostled the frying pan, flipping a huge pancake.

This was so freaking strange. Linda isn't my mother. I've known her for a month. And yet she was behaving exactly how a mother behaves, in my house.

"Morning, Rob," She said cheerfully to me. I know I've mentioned it before but, Rob is short for RobERT, not RobIN. Honestly.

"Morning," I said. I had to enter the kitchen now. I couldn't stay standing there like a scared cat.

"I've got a few pancakes made here," Linda said as I carefully sat down at the breakfast table.

"Could you get out the syrup for me?" She requested. "I don't know where it is," She went on. I stood up and went over to some cupboards. Well, of course, she doesn't know where the maple syrup is. She hasn't lived in this house for thirteen years.

"Here," I said.

"Oh good. Have a pancake," Linda said. She took a plate from the stack of plates that she'd set by the stove top. I remember when my mother bought those plates. They were on sale at IKEA. She loved their beige colour. I don't know why she didn't take them with her when she and Glenn split up.

Linda put two pancakes on my mother's plate and held it out for me. I looked from the pancakes to Linda then back to the pancakes.

"... I'm actually not hungry," I muttered and left the kitchen. I felt like an ass for being rude and not accepting the pancakes, but I just couldn't take them. I mean, after the memories of my mother buying the stupid plates from IKEA got all mixed up with my dad's new girlfriend putting her pancakes on them... um, I just lost my appetite.

I went back upstairs and lay down on my bed. I lay there for a long time, listening to really low key and watered down indie music on Youtube. When my back hurt from lying there like a slug for too long, I got up and took a shower.

When I got out of the shower, and went to my room again to get dressed, I heard the immensely disturbing sounds of bed banging in my dad's bedroom down the hall. I guess some people get turned on by pancakes. Oh God, the sounds of Glenn and Linda were eating away at my brain. Ok the problems with this situation:

1.) That was eeyuck to the googolplex power just in itself.

2.) Those two screwing down the hall was also further enhancing the weird feeling in me that had aroused from the pancakes and plates issue.

3.) And then on top of those feelings I was incredibly frustrated because even my dad was getting laid and I wasn't.

With all that pent up emotion in me (and because I wanted to drown out the gross sounds of Glenn boning Linda), I decided to clean my room from top to bottom. I blasted the indie music through a proper set of speakers to keep my adrenaline up. The fact that I probably ruined the coitus going on down the hall was just an unintentional bonus.

I dragged the vacuum down to my bedroom with great difficulty. Fuck whoever invented vacuums! Stupid asswipe had no sense of weight and the dimensions of a hallway.

I got that blunt, difficult vacuum down to my room and plugged the chord into a free socket. I realized quickly that vacuuming my room should have been the last task I did because there was far too much crap in my way on the floor. Clothes, books, shoes, CDs, DVDs, headphones. Man, middle class teenagers have a ton of shit and not enough room for all of it.

So I started vacuuming my bed. I just pulled the covers back and pushed the impossibly unworkable vacuum wand around on the mattress. There were cookie bits and chip crumbs and all kinds of crap on my sheets.

"The night is winding down but tiiime meeeans nothiing!" I sang loudly, but I was no match for the roar of the vacuum.

"As always at this hour tiiime meeeans nothiing!" I belted out.

"Robin!!"

I craned my neck to look over my shoulder since holding the vacuum was constricting full body movement. Glenn was standing in my door way in his boxer shorts and a t shirt, staring at me and clearly worried about my sanity.

"Yes?" I prompted over the roar of the vacuum. After I'd replied to Glenn in a civil enough manner, he felt it was alright to come into my room. He went over to the body of the vacuum and pressed the power button, cutting off the roar and suction.

"Hey!" I protested. "I was... cleaning..." I trailed off.

"Are you ok, kiddo?" Glenn asked me.

"Uh yeah?" I said, frowning at him.

"Why are you vacuuming your bed?" Glenn asked me. Um...

"The floor is a mess," I answered. Glenn nodded.

"Yes, it is," He chuckled. "... were we being too loud?" He asked me kindly.

"Daaaad," I moaned. The last thing I want to discuss with him, or anyone really, is whether or not he's being too loud with his freaking girlfriend.

"Ok, ok. Just, maybe save the vacuuming. Pick up your clothes first," Glenn said parentally. I looked away and nodded while I rolled my eyes.

"And, kiddo, put on some pants," Glenn added as he left the room. Well, fuck him! I can wear boxers while cleaning my own damn bedroom, thanks very much, douche bag.

"Maybe you should put on some pants," I grumbled angrily. I reached my leg out and stomped my foot down on the vacuum's power button. I went on my merry, stubborn way, vacuuming my bed.

"You know it's turning me on! Riot on the radio!" I sang off key while I dragged the vacuum wand across my mattress.

My seventh sense prickled. The seventh sense is how attuned you are to your cell phone. Like when only you can hear your cell buzzing in the next room and no one else heard a thing. I turned off the vacuum and paused the music. I dug around in my jeans that were on the floor and finally pulled out my phone. I didn't recognize the number. I shrugged and answered it.

"Hello?" I asked.

"Hi," The female voice said.

"Uh, hi," I said.

"Hi,"

"Ok, who is this?" I finally asked.

"I'll give you a hint," She said. I didn't need a hint. After all the words that had been said now, I could tell the voice was Cora.

"Ok, go ahead," I said anyway, sitting down on my newly vacuumed bed.

"I'm really pretty and I'm really smart," She said. Ugh, yes she is.

"That doesn't narrow it down," I said dryly.

"It's Cora," She said. Cora was calling me. And I was in my underwear. I stupidly felt like I should put on pants or something, even though of course she couldn't see me.

"Which Cora?" I decided to be clever to hide my discomfort.

"The one from... you're fucking with me right?" She checked. My brain immediately deleted the "with" from what she'd said to make me even more uncomfortable.

"How did you get my cell phone number??" I realized suddenly.

"Oh Harold gave it to me," She said. Oh really? Remind me to kick Harold in the nuts the next time I see him.

"Oh. K. Well, um, what's up?" I asked, picking nervously at the edge of my boxers.

"I was just waiting for bus and I thought I'd give you a call. We're friends right?"

"Sure," I said.

"Good. Then, I have a favour to ask of you," She said. Already? We've been friends for like four days. Geez, she moves fast. Erm, yes.

"Um, ok," I cautiously accepted.

"Could you send me that, that Cigar Rose song?" She asked me. I started snickering.

"Sigur Ros?" I corrected.

"Yeah, yeah," She said easily. "Can you send it to my email? I tried downloading it and I can't find it,"

"I don't have your email," I said bluntly.

"I'll text it to you," Cora said.

"Ok. Well if you do that, then, yeah I'll send the song," I said. That's an acceptable thing for a friend to ask of another friend. I could do that, this was ok.

"Thanks Boy Wonder," She cheered. I rolled my eyes.

"Oh my bus is here. I gotta go," She said

"K, text me your email," I demanded.

"Ok, talk to ya lata," She said melodically.

"Alrighty, bye," I said and hung up the phone. Did I end that conversation with 'alrighty'? Fuck me. Where's the vacuum?