Let's Burn Our Dreams Into the Skyline
Sleep...or lack of.
“Maxine Juliet Porter!” I heard screams, “Care to help explain the meaning of all this?” I was tired; very tired. I was squished on the couch between Linnea and Pete’s body. It’s strange how close they always are seeing as though they hate eachother.
“Mhmm?” I asked still half-asleep and too lazy to get off my spot on the cramped couch. Linnea was as far away from her brother as possible; she did not wanna get puked on.
“Maxine, please tell me what’s going on.” My mother demanded. Dad wasn’t in sight; he probably marched upstairs and crashed without noticing the shithole of a kitchen or the room full of teenagers.
“Okay, so we were at their house.” I motioned to the Wentz twins, “Then their mom came home, so we came here. Things were totally calm until he” pointed to Gabe “wanted to make cookies. He has no culinary talents what-so-ever, so they came out like shi-”
“Language.” My mother glared.
“-like poop. So he” nodded in Pete’s direction “was Mr. ‘Look-at-how-cool-I-am’ and ate them. Then he started spewing all over the place.”
“Is that all?” My mother sighed; she didn’t expect any less of a story.
“Oh, I think a sleepover without the sleepover and a flour fight were involved.”
She rolled her eyes. “I need some sleep. Tell your friends to get the hell out of my house once they wake up.” Thank God, I don’t need to clea-
“And pick a few to be victims and help you clean.” Shit. Mothers are mind-readers, I swear.
***
“Why us!?”
“Becaaaause, it’s Pete’s spew and Linnea is a good kisser, grab some mops.” I explained to my “victims”.
“I will vomit.” Linnea warned.
“On Peter, please.” I sighed. “Just clean the flour mess. We’ll handle the barf.”
“Oh joy.” Wentz sighed.
“It’s your fault your stomach isn’t stronger and you wouldn’t listen to me.”
“That is not the point.”
“Well, grab a mop and try to explain to me the point.” I spat. He mumbled something about me being a “screwed-up whore” and did as he was told.
***
Three hours later the house was clean and we were bored.
“I’m tired.” I announced, leaning my head on Pete’s shoulder. I closed my eyes and would have fallen asleep right there if I didn’t tower over him.
“Your short.” I yawned.
“Thanks for noticing.” He glared and we moved to the couch.
“I’m officially going to bed… now.” I used Pete as a pillow and squeezed my eyes shut.
“Where’s Linnea?” Pete asked right as I was about to fall asleep.
“I hate you.” I spat.
“Over here.” She called from the kitchen. “Finished cleaning.”
“About time.” Pete chuckled.
“Trying to sleep, stop words.” I moaned.
“Chill, I’m tired too- Do I even wanna know why she’s on top of you?”
“He is soft.” I explained. “And I am asleep.”
“No your not.” She giggled.
“I would kill you if I had enough will power to get up.” I grunted, readjusting my position.
“Your squirmy.” He noted.
“I’m asleep.” I screamed.
“No your not.” He screamed right in my ear.
“Dead.” I glared at him. “So dead.”
“Mhmm?” I asked still half-asleep and too lazy to get off my spot on the cramped couch. Linnea was as far away from her brother as possible; she did not wanna get puked on.
“Maxine, please tell me what’s going on.” My mother demanded. Dad wasn’t in sight; he probably marched upstairs and crashed without noticing the shithole of a kitchen or the room full of teenagers.
“Okay, so we were at their house.” I motioned to the Wentz twins, “Then their mom came home, so we came here. Things were totally calm until he” pointed to Gabe “wanted to make cookies. He has no culinary talents what-so-ever, so they came out like shi-”
“Language.” My mother glared.
“-like poop. So he” nodded in Pete’s direction “was Mr. ‘Look-at-how-cool-I-am’ and ate them. Then he started spewing all over the place.”
“Is that all?” My mother sighed; she didn’t expect any less of a story.
“Oh, I think a sleepover without the sleepover and a flour fight were involved.”
She rolled her eyes. “I need some sleep. Tell your friends to get the hell out of my house once they wake up.” Thank God, I don’t need to clea-
“And pick a few to be victims and help you clean.” Shit. Mothers are mind-readers, I swear.
***
“Why us!?”
“Becaaaause, it’s Pete’s spew and Linnea is a good kisser, grab some mops.” I explained to my “victims”.
“I will vomit.” Linnea warned.
“On Peter, please.” I sighed. “Just clean the flour mess. We’ll handle the barf.”
“Oh joy.” Wentz sighed.
“It’s your fault your stomach isn’t stronger and you wouldn’t listen to me.”
“That is not the point.”
“Well, grab a mop and try to explain to me the point.” I spat. He mumbled something about me being a “screwed-up whore” and did as he was told.
***
Three hours later the house was clean and we were bored.
“I’m tired.” I announced, leaning my head on Pete’s shoulder. I closed my eyes and would have fallen asleep right there if I didn’t tower over him.
“Your short.” I yawned.
“Thanks for noticing.” He glared and we moved to the couch.
“I’m officially going to bed… now.” I used Pete as a pillow and squeezed my eyes shut.
“Where’s Linnea?” Pete asked right as I was about to fall asleep.
“I hate you.” I spat.
“Over here.” She called from the kitchen. “Finished cleaning.”
“About time.” Pete chuckled.
“Trying to sleep, stop words.” I moaned.
“Chill, I’m tired too- Do I even wanna know why she’s on top of you?”
“He is soft.” I explained. “And I am asleep.”
“No your not.” She giggled.
“I would kill you if I had enough will power to get up.” I grunted, readjusting my position.
“Your squirmy.” He noted.
“I’m asleep.” I screamed.
“No your not.” He screamed right in my ear.
“Dead.” I glared at him. “So dead.”