"FOOTLOOSE!" You screamed, jumping off of the couch and onto the ground.
"FOOTLOOSE," Peter screamed back, playing the air guitar amazingly, "KICK OF YOUR SUNDAY SHOESSS" the two of you competed the phrase with enough energy to light a house. Your voices were barley audible above the booming beats of one of the best songs of the century; footloose. It was truly spectacular.
"PLEASE, LOUISE." You continued, throwing your head up as you spread your arms outwards in time with the song.
"PULL ME OFFA MYY- OH... SHIT."
The music abruptly cut off with Peter's profanity. The two of you looked down to see his foot square over the speaker and phone; ruining both. Your jaw dropped as your clapped your hand over your mouth. You were so shocked that you almost began to laugh.
"I may have broken it..." Peter muttered, gently removing his foot. He bit his lip, beginning to pick up some of it, "Rockets gonna have a great time with this."
You nodded, suppressing your laughter as best you could, "he sure is!"
—
WRITTEN BY ELLE
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