HEY! 14 Chapters to go lol Man... I am so tired I have tons on my plate. After I finish this story I can FINALLY relax aha :D ALWAYS VOTE VOTE and I LOVE comments <3 Stay STD free and enjoy the crazy Scotts :)
What does Thanksgiving mean to you?
Wow, what a generic question. Thanks English for conjuring up this one, I don’t think a question could get any simpler. So I should be able to answer this, right? Like, I should be able to pick up my pencil and write my paragraph about Thanksgiving’s symbolic feel to me? This should be easy peasy? Pfft, I’ve been sitting here looking at this for freaking thirty or more minutes while my mom runs around and puts the last finishing touches on the house. She claims she wants everything perfect, but I don’t really care about any of this.
For one, I’m not housewife material. The only cooking I can do was reading instructions on Ramen and Mac and Cheese. Anything above that level requires a smoke detector and maybe a few nearby firemen, for who knows. Secondly, the only cleaning I like to do involve my own body and parts. Yes, I’m talking about showering. Other than that, count anything else as dirty in my presence. Thirdly, I am not too fond of children. See, they either drooled, back talked, or had a serious attitude problem, and if my kid acted anything like Lucas or me…I’d freaking go ballistic and kill everyone. Therefore, I rest my case. I am not housewife material.
I really wish my mother would slow down and take a break for a second. Her pregnant belly was getting pretty huge nowadays and I don’t think it was too healthy for her to be ripping and running. She said it was her exercise, Bruter said she was ‘doing the most.’ He got that expression from the overly expressive Omunique. I had to hand it to her—she was filled with impressive things to say.
“Hannah! I hope you are dressed, they will be here in twenty minutes!” my mother called up to me.
Sighing, I used this as an excuse to not do my homework on time and procrastinate, finding something feasible to wear. A nice gobble turkey sweater or a long sleeved simple top? I’ll go with the long sleeved simple top. What am I, five? I pulled the shirt over my head and put on a pair of jeans, fluffing my hair out and joining Lucas, Bruter, and my mom in the kitchen.
Maggie was sad to have to go back home and I have to admit, I was pretty sad myself. She turned out to be an amazing kid after all and I’m happy to say I had some part in it. Now I’m back to being the only sensible woman in the house, for mother was on the cuckoo side
“Okay, I’m ready to eat,” Lucas said, rubbing his tummy. He was such a fatty.
The doorbell rang, and I figured it was one of those over-achieving, punctual family members that always baked things and wanted people to feel welcome, the crazy chaps.
“Hi, Bruter, I haven’t seen you since you was a little boy,” a plump little lady squealed, squeezing Bruter’s cheeks. She had a head full of brown curls and her eyes were wide, her skin pale, hips wide. She was wearing fur boots that came up to her thighs, exposing the fat that was oozing against it. OhSweetBabyOfJesus! Let the skin breathe, please!
Bruter blushed. “Hey, Auntie Clair, how are you?”
“I’m just as sweet as this old pumpkin pie in my hands.” She chuckled, her fat cheeks brightening up. Bruter took the pie from her and handed it over to my mother.
“Auntie Clair, this is Maria.” He smiled. My mom stepped out from behind Bruter, her pregnant belly apparent for all to see. Auntie Clair squealed with glee and threw her arms around my mother in a bone crushing hug. “Not too hard, Auntie, you’ll squash the baby,” he teased, yet his eyes were truly concerned.
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The STD Trace
Teen FictionWhen Hannah Trimester's high school suffers from an outbreak of Chlamydia, she thinks it is her chance to write an award winning article that will get her into the school of her dreams. But finding the truth isn't easy. With other problems on the li...
