The October Amaryllis

Chapter 13 - ???? - February 24th, 2015 - 6:30 P.M.

For my 11th birthday, I was allowed to create flyers for the celebration with my parents a few days before it. I made one little mistake; however, I was too good with Word for my age, which resulted in my parents asking me how I learned to use it so well in just under two months and also why I hated Comic Sans so much all of a sudden which I, unfortunately, loved as a kid. Thankfully, I never liked Papyrus, so I guess I deserve half a point there. Speaking of Papyrus, a friend I had in middle school wrote about the Egyptians using it, which is just downright embarrassing. Surprisingly, there's a font even worse than both of them called Comic Papyrus, which I only suggest you look up if you hate yourself. As for my favorite font, I quite like Baskerville; it makes anything you type look so formal and fancy. I mean, I could write about the banalest thing and still have it look beautiful. Why do you think I use it? That's one point for pseudo-intellectualism! I swear I'm the long-lost great-grandson of Dean from The Iron Giant.

"I'm not a kid anymore," I pouted.

"Guess not; you'll be wearing a suit and tie soon at this rate," my mother joked.

Like hell, I will be... I'd rather be buried alive.

"As long as I won't have to sit in a box with my back hunched all day, I think I'll be fine," I replied with a small smile. My biggest nightmare is that I'll get one of those crummy office jobs and have to sit in a cubicle the whole day while my boss whines and groans about every little thing while hopped up on a gallon of caffeine. I can't even have any without turning into a nervous wreck; just one cup is enough to get me to shake like my washing machine; I swear that thing will explode one day...

"It's not all bad; my office has an espresso machine," my dad said, stretching sleepily.

"They taste horrible," I said, sticking my tongue out in disgust. I once had two shots of it, and it tasted like agony in a cup. My history teacher once told me about this girl in his class who had six espresso shots at once and how her heart got all messed up due to her having long QT syndrome or something.

"Sure, but nobody has them for their taste; if coffee didn't stimulate you, then it would have lost about 99% of its drinkers. Sometimes you have to decide which is worth more," he said, going into the kitchen to get some coffee.

As soon as he came back from the kitchen with a cup of joe, I smelled the pleasant scent of coffee and felt relaxed by it. I've never cared much for it, but I would be a liar if I said that it didn't smell amazing. It's too bad it gives me horrible anxiety if I drink it. This one time, I had this drink called Reign, and I swear I had heart palpitations for two hours; I was so anxious from it that I was shaking all over the place. Guess that's what happens when you drink the equivalent of three cups of coffee all at once...

"So... how does it feel to be eleven?" my dad asked, kneeling to not have to look down at me. He was around 6'2 if I remember, making him by far one of the tallest members of my family. His dad was only around 5′4, so I don't know how he grew so tall.

"I don't care that I'm eleven; I just care that I can see the both of you happy. I see my birthday as any other day, but you are everything," I said, trying to hug both of them at once.

"You know... you're a very unusual child, Clive. When I was your age, I cared more than anything about my birthday," my dad said, chuckling.

"Being strange isn't bad, Dad; being the same is boring to me," I said, smiling at how beautiful the moment felt to me. I cheated to get it, but I certainly didn't regret doing so.

"I wish I were more like you when I was younger," my dad said, brushing my hair.

Maybe one day I'll make that happen...