Lombardus: The Trident Clown

Chapter 1 ☬

This is my story
I have a mom named Lisa
She calls my full name!

I AM IAN. I get scared when she call me by my full name.

"Ian Trevor!"

Oh she did.

"Argh!" I combed through my curly, brown hair in frustration. "I'm only five meters away, Lisa! Will you stop yelling already?"

"Your schoolbag, pumpkin!!"

"Darnit, almost forgot it again."

"Language, boy, or I exorcise your tongue with raw, leafy cabbages," Lisa chided.

Eww. Give it up for Lisa, she surely knows how to spray the right threats at the right time. How much she knew I dislike veggies.

"Sorry mom, no more cuss words again, I cross my heart and hope to die."

"Ian!!"

"OK... I cross my heart and hope to cry."

Beep Beep!

Outside, where I was standing by the curb an eyesore of a mustard-coloured bus pulled over. It is what you might regard as a banana peel for a responsible society.

Why it was a banana peel?

Its half lowermost part was caked with dried mud, splotched with muck and grime. Aggravatingly, it won't stop blaring its blasted horn.

Indeed, it was the banana peel of Eldritch Lane, Valsbury Town.

"Oh my gosh! The school bus is here already," I said exasperatedly, bouncing on my sneakers.

"Chop-chop." Lisa bossed, pointing to my bag sitting lazily on an easy chair in the living room. "Come take it, pumpkin."

"Just hand it over. I don't want to take off my sneakers to soil the sparkling floor the best Mom in the world is cleaning."

Lisa leaned on her dripping mopstick and smiled owing to my remark. As soon as the smile appeared, it was replaced by an irksome frown. An eyebrow went up.

"What's wrong mom, did I forget something again?"

"Of course you did, you little dingbat."

"That's a cuss word, Lisa."

"Don't try to change the topic, you..." she bit her bottom lip. "You didn't say please."

"When?" I pretended not to know.

"When you ordered me to hand over your schoolbag."

"Pleeaassee," and I droned on for ages.

"Alright..."

But I didn't stop.

"OK..."

And I went on.

"Heck...! Darnit...! Here you go, you scrawny bag of bones." Lisa literally yelled, knitting her brows into a deep scowl.

"Thank you," I chirped sugarily.

I crossed the yard, quickly - a tall boy with the lean, planed-down body of a natural gymnast - and hopped on into the dirty school bus.

I took a seat by the window. My seat.

With my long, prehensile index, I drew a doodly heart shape on the vapored window of the bus and I saw my mom gasped in awe.

She must be either astonished by, a) her eagle-eyedness to see the heart, b) my sweetness to draw her a heart or c) the abominable filthiness of the bus to accommodate sketches so distinct you could see them from afar.