Where'd You Go? (Track Twelve, III), chapter 1
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"Are you getting up yet?"
The voice, coming through the bedroom door, also managed to penetrate the pillow over the head of the sleeper within. Roused from a nice doze, she moaned piteously into her pillow.
"Mffff, aww, go away,"
There was a stretch of silence, during which the girl cringed, fully expecting the wake-up call to continue.
Nothing.
Still nothing.
Wren sighed, smiled, and snuggled deeper into the pillow.
That's the great thing about Saturdays, especially summer vacation Saturdays. You don't have to get up for anything. God, I love Satur---
"Wake up!"
BANG!
The door flew open so hard the knob smashed into the wall, deepening the already sizable dent. A half-second later, Wren shrieked as her blanket was whisked away, leaving her vulnerable to the cool air in the room.
An irrational thought sprinted through her brain. Good thing I'm wearing my sweat pants and not a nightie!
At the same time the blanket departed, someone started poking her, and yet another person beat out a lively tattoo on her pillow covered head.
"Get up! Get up! Getupgetupgetupgetup! Geeeeetttt up!"
"How's about no?" she groaned.
"How's about hell yeah?"
The pillow drumming ceased, but now someone began to jump on the bed, making it lurch sickeningly. Stubbornly, Wren tried to ignore them, but her brain suddenly caught up with her situation.
Three people in my room. Not one. All of my roommates. All three.
Her pillow was roughly yanked out of her grasp. Dreading and hoping at the same time, Wren cracked open her hazel eyes. First thing she saw was a pair of legs, clad in jeans, bouncing on the bed mere inches from her nose. Wickedly, she grabbed a leg and gave a hard yank, destroying the bouncer's balance.
"Fuck!" Tré hollered as he toppled off the bed to meet the floor with an introductory thud.
Fully awake, Wren grabbed her remaining pillow and hummed it at the end of the bed. It clobbered Billie Joe, Wren's other annoying across-the-hall neighbour, right on the side of his black haired head.
He dropped Wren's blanket and began to howl in the most outrageous manner. "Holy shit! I've been murdered! Killed fucking dead!"
Before Wren could continue her attack (or maybe it was defence), a pair of long fingered hands pressed her shoulders to the bed.
"I'll avenge you!" Mike roared to his and Wren's friends. He looked down at Wren with a grin that meant she had lost this battle.
Tré, hair completely disarrayed, popped up beside Wren like a gopher from a hole. Continuing the illusion, he twitched his head to the side. Wren saw a grin that matched Mike's in wickedness grow on Tré face as he widened his eyes freakishly. "Master, what do we do?"
"Hold her legs," Billie commanded as he moved to Wren's feet.
Once again, she was compelled to thank her stars that she did sleep two piece pyjamas. Laughing like a maniac, Tré flopped over her legs, and pinned her down further.
Wren knew what was coming. She squawked and flailed about in a frantic bid to get free. With a triumphant grin, she latched her fingers into Mike's brush-like hair.
"You do....." she threatened Billie Joe, who was looking the mad scientist to Tré's Igor, "and Mike gets it."
"Do it man!" Mike cried with faux-desperation, "It's the only way!"
"But Mike--" Tré began with equal drama.
"Fuck it! Just go for it!" Mike snapped back, still in character.
As soon as Billie Joe's rough hand brushed the soles of her feet, Wren yanked Mike's highlighted mop. He bared his clenched teeth in an expression similar to one she'd only seen when he was thoroughly into playing a song. Tré, being the twisted person he was, had dubbed it "Mike's Sex Face." Whether he knew or just supposed, Wren didn't know (and wasn't sure she wanted to). She squirmed and laughed as Billie Joe expertly tickled her feet. Of course, she made sure she pulled Mike's hair, not extremely hard, but hard enough, for each spasm of laughs.
Tré happened to look up and said sternly, "Mike, keep your mind on business! Fuck man! Quit making that damn face at her! If you don't do that for me, you shouldn't do it for anyone."
Mike let out a snarl and lunged for Tré. Since this freed her shoulders, Wren graciously freed Mike's hair. Tré yelped as Mike pounced and they both tumbled to the floor. From Wren's vantage point, all she could see was the odd flailing limb, but she could hear just fine.
"I'm not your fucking bitch!"
"You wanna be"
"Fuck, you need a girl!"
"Well, you cry when your hair gets pulled. Close enough."
Mike reared up and pretended to sexily run his hands through his hair. What sort of hair products he used, Wren didn't know, but it was so strong his hair just flopped right back into place after his hands went through. "Oh yeah, you like this?"
Wren grinned to herself, I certainly do
Mike plunged downwards out of sight. His disappearance was followed by loud moans and rather slurpy smooching noises. Billie Joe rolled his green eyes. He and Wren shared a look of sophisticated disdain.
"I'm getting up now," Wren announced. "Have the room, but stay off the bed."
Mike popped up, "What?" There was a wild laugh from Tré and he was pulled back out of sight.
Wren sat up and peered over the edge of her bed. Mike was simply hunched over, while at his side, Tré was sprawled on his stomach. Neither was touching the other.
"You guys like pretending to do that way too much."
"It's not me," Tré whined, "Mike can't get any so he makes me his bitch. You should hook him up."
Geez, thanks Tré! Could you ever be polite? Leave it to him to unknowingly graze my little fantasy.
A horrible blush rose up Wren's face, but luckily Mike was too absorbed in the floorboards to see. Tré waggled his fingers in a ridiculous parody of flirting. Wren managed to scramble out of the way as Billie Joe gracefully fell onto the bed. He rolled over and planted a rough kiss on Mike's forehead.
Noogie-ing the taller fellow harshly, Billie stated, "Mike's my bitch.
"Aw fuck," Mike complained, "are you stoned or what? We're not supposed to be jumping on each other. We did that already." He jerked a thumb in Wren's direction, "'Member why we're here?"
Afraid of another assault, Wren swept up some clothes and dashed into the hall.
The voice, coming through the bedroom door, also managed to penetrate the pillow over the head of the sleeper within. Roused from a nice doze, she moaned piteously into her pillow.
"Mffff, aww, go away,"
There was a stretch of silence, during which the girl cringed, fully expecting the wake-up call to continue.
Nothing.
Still nothing.
Wren sighed, smiled, and snuggled deeper into the pillow.
That's the great thing about Saturdays, especially summer vacation Saturdays. You don't have to get up for anything. God, I love Satur---
"Wake up!"
BANG!
The door flew open so hard the knob smashed into the wall, deepening the already sizable dent. A half-second later, Wren shrieked as her blanket was whisked away, leaving her vulnerable to the cool air in the room.
An irrational thought sprinted through her brain. Good thing I'm wearing my sweat pants and not a nightie!
At the same time the blanket departed, someone started poking her, and yet another person beat out a lively tattoo on her pillow covered head.
"Get up! Get up! Getupgetupgetupgetup! Geeeeetttt up!"
"How's about no?" she groaned.
"How's about hell yeah?"
The pillow drumming ceased, but now someone began to jump on the bed, making it lurch sickeningly. Stubbornly, Wren tried to ignore them, but her brain suddenly caught up with her situation.
Three people in my room. Not one. All of my roommates. All three.
Her pillow was roughly yanked out of her grasp. Dreading and hoping at the same time, Wren cracked open her hazel eyes. First thing she saw was a pair of legs, clad in jeans, bouncing on the bed mere inches from her nose. Wickedly, she grabbed a leg and gave a hard yank, destroying the bouncer's balance.
"Fuck!" Tré hollered as he toppled off the bed to meet the floor with an introductory thud.
Fully awake, Wren grabbed her remaining pillow and hummed it at the end of the bed. It clobbered Billie Joe, Wren's other annoying across-the-hall neighbour, right on the side of his black haired head.
He dropped Wren's blanket and began to howl in the most outrageous manner. "Holy shit! I've been murdered! Killed fucking dead!"
Before Wren could continue her attack (or maybe it was defence), a pair of long fingered hands pressed her shoulders to the bed.
"I'll avenge you!" Mike roared to his and Wren's friends. He looked down at Wren with a grin that meant she had lost this battle.
Tré, hair completely disarrayed, popped up beside Wren like a gopher from a hole. Continuing the illusion, he twitched his head to the side. Wren saw a grin that matched Mike's in wickedness grow on Tré face as he widened his eyes freakishly. "Master, what do we do?"
"Hold her legs," Billie commanded as he moved to Wren's feet.
Once again, she was compelled to thank her stars that she did sleep two piece pyjamas. Laughing like a maniac, Tré flopped over her legs, and pinned her down further.
Wren knew what was coming. She squawked and flailed about in a frantic bid to get free. With a triumphant grin, she latched her fingers into Mike's brush-like hair.
"You do....." she threatened Billie Joe, who was looking the mad scientist to Tré's Igor, "and Mike gets it."
"Do it man!" Mike cried with faux-desperation, "It's the only way!"
"But Mike--" Tré began with equal drama.
"Fuck it! Just go for it!" Mike snapped back, still in character.
As soon as Billie Joe's rough hand brushed the soles of her feet, Wren yanked Mike's highlighted mop. He bared his clenched teeth in an expression similar to one she'd only seen when he was thoroughly into playing a song. Tré, being the twisted person he was, had dubbed it "Mike's Sex Face." Whether he knew or just supposed, Wren didn't know (and wasn't sure she wanted to). She squirmed and laughed as Billie Joe expertly tickled her feet. Of course, she made sure she pulled Mike's hair, not extremely hard, but hard enough, for each spasm of laughs.
Tré happened to look up and said sternly, "Mike, keep your mind on business! Fuck man! Quit making that damn face at her! If you don't do that for me, you shouldn't do it for anyone."
Mike let out a snarl and lunged for Tré. Since this freed her shoulders, Wren graciously freed Mike's hair. Tré yelped as Mike pounced and they both tumbled to the floor. From Wren's vantage point, all she could see was the odd flailing limb, but she could hear just fine.
"I'm not your fucking bitch!"
"You wanna be"
"Fuck, you need a girl!"
"Well, you cry when your hair gets pulled. Close enough."
Mike reared up and pretended to sexily run his hands through his hair. What sort of hair products he used, Wren didn't know, but it was so strong his hair just flopped right back into place after his hands went through. "Oh yeah, you like this?"
Wren grinned to herself, I certainly do
Mike plunged downwards out of sight. His disappearance was followed by loud moans and rather slurpy smooching noises. Billie Joe rolled his green eyes. He and Wren shared a look of sophisticated disdain.
"I'm getting up now," Wren announced. "Have the room, but stay off the bed."
Mike popped up, "What?" There was a wild laugh from Tré and he was pulled back out of sight.
Wren sat up and peered over the edge of her bed. Mike was simply hunched over, while at his side, Tré was sprawled on his stomach. Neither was touching the other.
"You guys like pretending to do that way too much."
"It's not me," Tré whined, "Mike can't get any so he makes me his bitch. You should hook him up."
Geez, thanks Tré! Could you ever be polite? Leave it to him to unknowingly graze my little fantasy.
A horrible blush rose up Wren's face, but luckily Mike was too absorbed in the floorboards to see. Tré waggled his fingers in a ridiculous parody of flirting. Wren managed to scramble out of the way as Billie Joe gracefully fell onto the bed. He rolled over and planted a rough kiss on Mike's forehead.
Noogie-ing the taller fellow harshly, Billie stated, "Mike's my bitch.
"Aw fuck," Mike complained, "are you stoned or what? We're not supposed to be jumping on each other. We did that already." He jerked a thumb in Wren's direction, "'Member why we're here?"
Afraid of another assault, Wren swept up some clothes and dashed into the hall.
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