I will keep this brief to avoid boring you, and also because whenever this site reloads, which has happened several times now, I have to type this story all over again.
Back in high school, I HAD to leave for school really early in order to avoid being late. I may seem obsessive to you, but believe me, you would be too if you were in my situation. I had physics as the first class of the day, and the professor was REALLY strict. How strict, you might ask? Very strict.
Because of this, I had to make my breakfasts the day before I would eat them so that I could arrive at school on time. One of the things I preferred to make was waffles.
In the first half of the semester, my best friend’s cousin, who we shall call Phil, moved in with me. At first, I thought he was a great guy. We shared a lot of interests, like gaming and sports.
Two months later, everything changed. I woke up one morning, smiling at the thought of waffles with maple syrup, and hummed a tune as I completed my morning routine (the part before breakfast). I twirled downstairs and opened the fridge and gracefully lifted the container of waffles off the refrigerator racks only to find it…empty. My heart sank as I realized I would not have time to make anything else.
I grabbed a few granola bars (which I fortunately had bought the day before) and thought about the disappearance of my waffles. Sure, this may seem tiny and unimportant, but I needed my waffles in the mornings. They were my breakfast, and gave me the energy I needed to start the day. Sure, I had other foods, but granola bars and crackers just weren’t enough.
Just then, Phil walked in. “Do you know what could have happened to my waffles?” I asked him, holding up the empty container.
“Oh, sorry,” he said, “I ate those because I ran out of cereal and had nothing else to eat.”
“Nothing else?” I said, raising my voice, “Nothing else? Did it occur to you that we had, let’s see, granola bars? And that the waffles were MY breakfast that I make EVERY DAY?”
“Sorry.” He said. “At least they were delicious.” I finished my granola bars and stomped off, deciding to let it slide because this had never happened before.
Until it happened the next day. And the next. When I confronted Phil about this, as he obviously had bought cereal at the store, he apologized, saying that the waffles were just really delicious and he couldn’t resist them. This happened for weeks, and no matter how hard I tried, he wouldn’t stop. He would wake up earlier than I did if I was planning to do the same to him. Even if I hid my waffles, he would find them.
Then one day, I decided I had had enough. When I baked my waffles, I added…vinegar. And hot sauce. Lots of vinegar and hot sauce. I woke up to Phil’s angry shouts. He ran into my room, shouting, “What the did you put in those ing waffles?”
I tried not to smirk as I calmly replied, “Oh, just some stuff that I like.”
“Why the would you put that in there?” He screamed.
I couldn’t hide my smile as I said, “Because last time I checked, I was making these waffles for my breakfast, not yours, and I can put whatever I want in my breakfast. Let this be a lesson to you, Phil (This isn’t his real name, as you already know, so I didn’t call him Phil). My waffles, my rules. Don’t mess with me or my waffles ever. Again. Because you won’t like me when I don’t have my waffles, as you found out today.”
Kisses pressed to the knob of your spine and across your shoulder roused you from your peaceful sleep.
You hummed contentedly, letting your eyes flutter open to take in the dim light of your bedroom in the morning, the small windows at the top of your walls doing their best to let natural light flood the room.
“Happy Birthday, babe,” you murmured as Sam rolled you onto your back, kissing your exposed collarbone. “You’re old, now.”
He laughed softly, pulling back and smiling down at you.
When he and Alicia first came to the decision that it was best if Bob didn’t renew his contract and they moved back to Montreal, he’d been certain that the restlessness would be unbearable and he’d be going completely screwy and debating putting himself up for free agency the next season. Back then, he’d thought he was going to be what Jagr is now - a legend made all the moreso by his adamant refusal to just stop already. Bob had been certain that he would never love life more than he did playing in the NHL. Until he retired from it.
Headcannons of the gang after a night in Vegas omgggg
Soda wakes up with phone numbers written across his face and on his arms. There’s like 50 thongs and shit all in his pockets, and he’s so fucking hungover (and not on life).
Darry’s muscles are sore and he’s got bruises and nail marks on his back. He has a faint recollection of screaming Elvis songs in a neon lit bar.
Steve is missing a tooth, has lipstick smeared down his face, and there’s some weird shit all over him.
Two-Bit is wearing a huge sombrero and is covered in lo mein. He’s also ridiculously cold and has white contacts stuck in his eyeballs. Help him.
Johnny has 3 pets, a trench coat, $300 in cash, and a speeding ticket in his pocket.
Pony is drunk af and has makeup on. He also has breadsticks in his pockets.
Dally is wearing a dress, is stuck to the floor, and has “see u again bby —daquanis” written on his neck. He also has a gun in his pocket and weird strands of blue hair on him. There’s also a bunch of drugs around him.
Curly has waffles stuck to his face, maple syrup in his hair, glasses on, and a famous person’s autograph on his weenis.
Tim is just so fucked up on drugs, has $5,000 dollars in a backpack, and a warrant out for his arrest.