The Wonderful Life Of A Whatchamacallit

Chappo 1

"Asami! Wake yo' flippin' butt up!" the too-familiar, squeaky voice screams into my ear,waking me from my deep, dreamless sleep. I groan and roll over.

"Go away, Mitch," I mumble, still half asleep. He sighs dramatically and starts counting loudly and obnoxiously. I suddenly shoot up so fast I think it will give me whiplash. "OH MY CHEESE! OH MY FUDGIN' CHEESE!" Mitch giggles, the little devil, GIGGLES. IN A PERILOUS TIME LIKE THIS! After composing myself and putting on a calm face despite my inner anger, I calmly ask, "Mitch? What time is it?" He giggles nervously and points at my signature Five Nights at Freddy's ((A/N: FNAF)) alarm clock. The time is in bold, mocking me: 10:27 AM. I scream in frustration and punch my Toy Chica plushie that I sleep with (I'm lonely, don't judge me. ;v;).

Immediately after, I apologize profusely, saying, "Oh my fudgkins, I am so, so, so sorry, my little baby Chicachu~" I am cut off by my very rude brother, who chooses that moment to clear his throat. I then point an accusatory finger at my clock. "You! You-you-you big meanie! You didn't wake me up, Fred-boo! WHY!?" I imagine Freddy replying and apologizing, and I giggle after my shouting fest. Meanwhile, out of the corner of my eye, I see Mitch look at his watch and start tapping on it. I snap out of my reverie and look towards the clock again, checking the time. It is now 10:36 AM.

Cheese! I yelled at an inanimate object for nine whole minutes! No wonder Mitch is so impatient...

Mitch's gaze follows my plushie, then snaps to my clock, and finally rests on my face. He folds his freckled arms in a business-like manner on his puny, little, eight-year-old chest. "Um, so are you going to get up so you won't be late again, or are you just going to sit on your butt and gripe about how you always wake up ten minutes later than you're supposed to- again?" I snap my fingers and hop out of bed, swiftly making up my bed (complete with Detective Conan sheets and blankets, of course). I start pushing Mitch out of my room, who is reciting all the times I ever complained about my not waking up on time.

"Buh-bye sweetcheeks!" I sing-song as I finally shove the mini-encyclopedia out of my sanctuary of darkness (aka, my bright pink and girly bedroom). ((A/N: By the way, that is actually a joke I made with my friends about my room. My room is bright sky blue with royal blue trimmings. I helped my mom paint it! 0w0 Back to da storeh!))

I immediately peel of my paint-streaked pajamas and look at my bureau. Aw, fudgsicles. I forgot to get out my clothes for today, and now I am going to be late again. Oh man, I hope Miley isn't ready yet-

My phone buzzes, interrupting my thoughts. I look down at it and immediately wish I hadn't. Miley will be at my house in three minutes, according to her most recent text. I look into the mirror adjacent to my bed and sigh. There is no way I will be ready when Miley gets here. I sigh again and head to my bureau to look for some partially decent clothes. Within one minute, I have the perfect outfit: a cute kawaii potato shirt and a white pleated knee-high skirt paired with a white pixel heart necklace and matching earrings. Unlike most girls, I usually just throw on the least dirty things in my bureau and head out the door. This time, I put in a little bit more effort and threw in the jewelry. I marched into my bathroom and looked at the endless piles of makeup that Miley has supplied me with. No matter how many times I tell her 'no', she will always buy me at least four makeup products a week.

I look at the pure elements of torture again and pick up the brightest, clearest lip gloss I can find. I gently smear a bit on and pop my lips. Then, I lift my black, hair-filled brush and proceed to yank it through my hair. I slap on my black rimmed "nerdy" glasses as Miley calls them. After a few minutes pass, I decide I look presentable. I hear a knock at my door and chirp, "Just a sec!" I look down at that moment and mentally facepalm. I'm not wearing any shoes. I look at my ratty gray converse sneakers on the floor and decide I would rather be scolded at by Miley for wearing something old than being killed by her for being late. I slip them on after throwing on some socks and trot out the door, beige purse on shoulder and phone in hand. I walk into the living room and see Miley sitting on the couch talking to a blushing Mitch. When she sees me, she lights up and stands.

"Finally! You, my friend, are 36 seconds late! Bye-bye, Mitch~" she giggles and heads out the front door. I sigh and shake my head. That was close. I bid Mitch farewell and head outside, my dark, elbow-length hair swishing like a dark curtain behind me. The only reason I had to hurry is because it is Miley's favorite day of the year, and I had to go to the mall (aka, hell) with her. Today is Black Friday.

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SO! How was that? Feel free to leave some constructive criticism here

(here) -------> *insert cookies and milk*

Okay, so I will see you in my next ramble-session of my odd imagination (aka, the next chapter)

Bye, my baby cantaloupes! ✌(灬♥ω♥灬)

Wait! Here's a coffee and a cupcake before you go! (Officially) Bye!!!