Addict For Dramatics

"Rrrrrring!"

The doorbell rang.

"I'm coming!" I shouted, getting up from the table and leaving my breakfast spread across the table. I went to the door and slowly pryed it open. There was a woman standing there. She was neatly dressed in all business wear. A briefcase was smartly placed at her side. She had her fist firmly wrapped around the carrying handle.

"May I help you?" I asked, sounding annoyed.

"Is this the Griffon residence?" she said rather plainly.

"Why yes...yes it is," I replied, trying to imitate her business like voice and posture.

"Do you happen to be Ms. Melanie Taylor Griffon?" she asked, referring to her papers.

"Yes, that would be my name." I sighed.

"I'm Margaret Stern from the Department of Child safety and Relocation." She stood up very straight when she said this. Relocation? Are children animals now? Needing to be relocated?

"Oh," I mumbled.

"May I come in?" She smiled. It was a rather fake smile. It was neither warm nor welcoming. A dead smile.

"I guess so," I muttered, opening the door a little more so she could come in. I led her into the living room and we sat down onto the couch.

"Would you like some coffee? Tea? Anything?" I asked her, trying to be polite. I wondered why she hadn't asked about my parents yet.

"No thank you. Ms. Griffon, I have some important news," she said seriously.

"Oh yeah, what's that?" I asked, a bit rudely despite my attempt to be polite.

"Are you aware that your parents were on a flight from Springfield to Las Vegas on Tuesday?" she asked, still serious.

"No," I laughed, showing her my disinterest in anything having to do with my parents.

"Then you are not aware that the flight left Springfield but never made it to Nevada. The plane was found in a field somewhere in Wyoming," she informed, still serious.

"Oh, really?" I snickered. She gave me a strange look.

"I'm not sure that you understand. Melanie, your parents' bodies were found in the wreckage," she said with another strange look.

"Thank you for letting me know," I giggled. She shuffled through her papers nervously. She had probably expected me to burst into tears. Maybe she thought I was mental or something. Her professional training probably never prepared her for something like this. I mean, what kid doesn't mourn over their parents' death?

"You are here to tell me I have to move in with my relatives right?" I said breaking the silence. I didn't know any of my relatives.

"Actually in this case you'll be moving in with your godfather. He has all ready accepted the responsibility. Unless of coarse you would rather move to Florida," she replied, checking her papers. So my relatives lived in Florida? Then why did my family live in Illinois? I didn't even know I had a godfather.

"Who is he? My godfather?" I wondered aloud, expecting an answer.

"My records say his name is Patrick Martin Stump," she read the familiar name from her papers. The mug of coffee I had in my hands dropped to the ground. The hot beverage splashed all over the cream colored carpet.

"WHAT?!"