The Somewhat Mad Life Of Kelly McKena

I have just killed my 8th alarm clock. Accidently on purpose. Bloody hell! If I keep it up at this rate, people will ask,
"What happened to your college money?"
"I spent it on alarm clocks,"
I could only imagine it. I had to spend my birthday money on a new super electric shaver for my dad, because me and my best mate Sydney had a brilliant idea to shave my teddy. Half it's ear is still stuck in the blades. Anyway, bits of mickey mouse alarm clock were littered all over the floor, from me throwing it. Oh, just to make that thing shut the hell up!
Mum burst through the door at that moment, all beamy and generally weird.
"The sun is out! The sky is blue! The birds are...SHIT Kelly you broke another one?!" I wish mum had the alarm clock's fate too, her voice wrecked my ear.
"There was a fly,"
"A fly? A bloody fly?" mum bent down and started scrambling about picking up metal and mickey mouse chins and all sorts of things, "Why didn't you use the fly swatter?"
Our eyes joined paths leading to the swatter, lying limply on my desk.
"It was a huge fly, it was heading straight for me, I had to use something,"
"Where is it now?" mum's stupid blond hair bobbed about.
"It flew out the window,"
"The window isn't open!"
Ah, saved by the cooker-bell-thingy. Mum stumbled out the room, her hair bobbing all over the place. Sacré Bleú. I sighed and slowly swung my legs over the bed. Gosh, I never knew my legs were so heavy, because I fell off. I put on my mank uniform, the collar choking me (me and Sydney suspect schools are doing a conspiracy thing to choke us to death. Oh sorry, you grammicaly correct person, I meant Sydney and I), and brushed my hair. I looked in the mirror. Tall, lean frame, slight signs of boobs being born, long browny-reddish hair, green muddy pools as an excuse for eyes, and a nose. I'd be pretty worried if it was missing.

*

In the kitchen, I noticed there was a tiger on the floor. Well, a little boy dressed as a tiger. He was rolling about, screeching. Yes, my little brother Tobey, aka, Tobey the Tiger. You have to call him that if you don't want him to spit on you. He's six, by the way.
"Look, Kelly! I'm eatin anotha tiga!" he screamed happily.
"Nice,"
I ate my cereal, almost choking when my father came in.
"Take it off," I warned, waving my spoon, flicking bits of bran all over the place.
Tobey proceeded to eat the bits off the floor.
"What love?"
"The hat, please. It makes you look like a man hooker,"
He had a lop-sided top hat with a sexy-red flower on the side.
"Actually it just makes you look gay,"
"Language, please," dad scowled, tipping his hat in what he thought was a sexy way towards my mother.
Mum giggled, or hiccuped-choked or whatever, and wrapped her arms around dad for a smooch.
"There are children here! We could be influenced! I could get pregnant cause of you!" I muttered.
I headed for the door, not wanting the forces of my truly disturbed family holding me back any longer.
"Bye!" mum sang from her post at the cooker.
Dad tipped his hat towards me, and Tobey just whined.
I headed out the door, disgusted.

You haven't even seen my mates yet, so brace yourself.