Gucci Gucci

I hate waffles.

I just do. Waffles are nasty, soggy food that you dip into another nasty, sugary, disgusting food like syrup and then stuff it in your face. Just the thought of eating them grossed me out.

Pancakes were cool though.

Every morning, Helena would walk up to my house, knock on the door, and wait until I answered the door. Once I opened the door, she would shove a yellow waffle in my face and tell me to eat. She was worried about my figure, and I can understand her concern, but really? Waffles?

Today was no different.

I walked out of my bedroom door and sat down on the stair rail, sliding my way down through the second floor, all the way down to the first floor of my house. My house was a three story one, and the third story was all mine. I had my own bedroom, which was actually the size of two living rooms, and a bathroom in my bedroom. The closet in my room was huge, and it held most of my clothes, but I can hardly keep myself from buying more. Moving on, in the hall, there is a spare closet that's about 3/4 the size of the closet in my bedroom; not bad. There's another bathroom in the hall, as well as an office with a view of the lake behind my house, and then an empty room that I didn't use for anything. I was thinking of making it another closet after I filled up the one in the hall.

My mother was sitting on the couch and she took one look up at me and scoffed.

"Really, Rory, must you go out in such flashy clothes?"

I squinted my eyes at her, looking down at my outfit. My hoodie was purple, with a few black stars on it. My scarf was black and white, and it was plaid. The ends were fringed, just enough to make it look like I cut the ends. My jeans were gray and skin-tight (Hey, I could rock a pair of skinny jeans); and my shirt was purple with a Blood on the Dance Floor design on it. My hair was shaggy and styled to slightly cover my eyes. I had on a pair of nerd glasses, and finally, my shoes were nothing but a pair of DC's with purple and gray designs. I sighed, throwing my hands down at my side.

"Mom, you complain when I cross dress, you complain when I dress normally, you complain when it's too fancy; too gangster; too stupid." I scolded her. "Can't you just once forget about what I'm wearing? Besides, it's not like you see me much anyways."

"Watch your tone." She said flatly after she tapped her laptop a few times. I absolutely hated when she didn't look at me, but would tell me to watch myself. It made me want to punch her right in her big, fat nose.

"Well, I'm not changing now, mom. Helena's waiting for me."

"I'm going to have Elizabeth pick out your outfit for tomorrow."

"Screw that!" I shouted, grabbing my backpack from out of the dinner chair, exactly where I left it every day. I grabbed a key from out of a pocket in my backpack, running up two flights of stairs before I finally arrived in front of my room. I slipped the key into the lock and locked it from the inside. Giving me a key; that was one of many mistakes my mother ever made. She gave me the only set of keys she had for the third floor, so I could lock my doors whenever I wanted to. I ran over to the closet door, locked it, the bathroom door, locked it, the office door, locked it and finally, slid down the stair rails again.

"Sorry, I forgot my wallet." I lied, running towards the front door. I could hear Helena singing from behind the door. I opened the front door to be greeted by the disgusting smell of those waffles.

"Mornin', Moxie!" She shouted. I wanted to slap that waffle from out of her hand, but instead, I took it and stuffed it into my mouth, chewing and swallowing faster than I could breathe. My mother waved to Helena, and Helena responded with a smile.

"Let's go then." I grabbed Helena impatiently by her arm and pulled her away from my steps, slamming the front door behind me.

"Aw, Rory, you're so mean to your mother. She's so nice. All she wants is the best for you."

"You know, my dad has absolutely no problem with me cross dressing, but when it comes to my mom and I, she acts like the whole f-" I almost cursed, but stopped myself. "She acts like the whole world is going to come crumbling down at my feet because I wore some hair extensions, or because I wore a pair of heels. Jesus Christ!"

"Calm down. You haven't even been awake for 3 hours and you're already bitching about things."

I huffed angrily, because she was right. "Damn it, I know, it's just that my mom never considers what I want."

"That's why you like your dad so much more."

"Yeah! But my dad's never home, he's always at work."

"Your dad's company is only 15 minutes away." Helena said as she walked over to the passenger side of my classic Ford truck. The black paint was shining in the morning light, but frost covered the windshield. I scratched it away with my long fingernails, managing to chip off huge chunks all at once, clearing my side of frost. God, I hated winter so much.

"It's not like I can just drop in anytime. 'Hey dad, how's it going? Oh, you're making billions of dollars? Oh, for me? Oh, okay, then I'm just going to leave'. Do you see the issue here?"

"Yeah, but still. You should stop taking advantage of things so much, you don't know what you have. You're going to be sorry when you're mom dies."

"Screw you." I snapped at her.

"Just saying."

I wanted to slap her sometimes. But I'm sure she wanted to do just the same to me.