Snake Eyes [boyxboy]

Snake Eyes {3}

                “Please!”

                “No!”

                “Please!

                “NO!”

                “Pretty please!”

                “Mark, I am not going to dig a deep hole that you can crawl into a die!”

                “Wah! You’re a terrible best friend!”

                Shaw rolled his eyes at me as we drove towards my house. I had avoided Maxx at all costs after that, not even excited that he shared several classes plus lunch with me. God, he probably thought I was the biggest moron in history. Which, I was. But still.

                I pulled into my driveway and sighed as I got out of the car. Shaw copied me and we grabbed our bags out of the backseat before I locked the car.

                I unlocked the front door and Shaw and I went into the house. We slipped our shoes off before heading upstairs. We went into my living room and dropped our bags.

                “Boys! Sh!”

                I face palmed myself. Oh god; here we go. As if today wasn’t already bad enough. I looked over and could already see the amusement entering Shaw’s eyes as my grandpa came into the room, a look of pure concentration on his face.

                “Hi grandpa,” I said with a sigh.

                He pressed his finger to his lip, signaling for me to be quiet.

                “Sh, boy, or they’ll hear you,” he whispered and looked around cautiously. “This is a war, you know. Being as loud as you are could get us killed!”

                “No, grandpa, this is a house. There are no Japanese here, I promise. No one’s going to shoot,” I said with a sigh as Shaw tried not to laugh.

                Shaw made a whistling noise and grandpa’s eyes widened in absolute terror. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to the ground. He covered his head.

                “BOMB! ALL MEN DOWN!” he shrieked.

                I sighed and face palmed myself again. “Why me?” I groaned. “COVER YOUR HEAD BOY!” grandpa boomed. I stood up and grabbed his arm.

                “Is it safe?” he whispered, peeking over the couch, his hands still over his head. I glared at Shaw as he slapped his hands over his mouth in an attempt not to die laughing.

                “Grandpa, there was no bomb!” I said, trying to keep my patience. He did this every time he heard a whistle.

                See, my grandpa had fought in World War 2. He’d been very well respected in the army. But now, years later, he thought he was still in World War 2. Sometimes he would come back to his senses, but not often enough for my liking. I did feel bad for him, but it was kind of humorous at times…

                “Shaw stop it!” I hissed and smacked him in the arm.

                He finally managed to get himself under control and nodded at me. “Sorry Mark; I couldn’t help it,” he said and fought back another laugh.