There's A Jock in My Bed! [✓]

2. Micah Is Probably the Devil

Micah 

"MAYBE THIS IS THE DAY THAT SOMEONE HAS MURDERED MY FAMILY,"

I said to myself, hand on the knob of my front door, bag slinging on one shoulder. "Maybe this is the day something actually exciting happens?" I whispered to myself.

Albeit, someone murdering your family was a bit macabre and maybe a bit much, but I had years of uneventful living to overcompensate for and something told me a crazed maniac chopping my parental figure into bits might just be the perfect way to turn this boring life upright.

Alas, upon opening my front door, there was noticeably not any blood, or cries and screams to make it stop. I sighed.

"Mother, I am back of the penitentiary institution that Americans mascaraed as a place of education and because I refused to eat the drab, inedible slob they call food, I require a ham sandwich, hold the mayo." I dropped my backpack, said hello to Iguana, my pet Iguana, and strutted into the kitchen.

Mother, dressed in a 'Kiss This Motherf*cking Cook' apron and a pair of red stilettos, waved at me. "Micah," she sang. "How was your first day of school?"

I leaned against the door frame. "I don't know mother, how was it when you lost your virginity?" I asked.

"It was actually delightful," she spoke.

"Nothing is ever good the first time," I said. "Nothing."

"Except the first episode of Stranger Things," she said. "Oh, and Ed Sheeran's first single. And the First Matrix."

"Those anomalies aside, mother figure, I have decided that I no longer want to attend school," I said, jumping atop my kitchen table as she cut carrots and not watch the big steel pot bubble over on the stove.

"You don't have a choice,"
she said. "Trust me, If I could get you employed at some sweat shop making iPhones I would, but the law is the law."

I rolled my eyes and ate one of the r aw carrots. "When have you ever cared about petty human constructs like the law?" I asked her.

"I find that offensive," she said. "I have always followed the law."

"Except the laws of marriage, when you slept with Mrs. Tillerson's husband because she called your cake moist that one time," I responded, eyeing her.

She waved me off. "That wasn't law breaking, it was vengeance and as it would have it, there are no rules in love and war." She smiled. "Besides, may day was excellent."

"Tell me how your day was as I pretend to listen," I said.

She slapped me on my forehead. "I am going to a feminist rally tomorrow," she squealed. "Women Rule, Patriarchy drools." She sighed, scratching her temple with the butcher knife. "American woman are so liberated. I saw a woman with her breasts out. And another openly listening to a Miley Cyrus song without any repercussions or being called a no taste having whore."