Breakfast For Dinner

(This next one goes out to all of the wonderful people I have in my life. Since Cheyenne and I have decided to no longer be friends, I have spent more time with the people around me. I also have been talking to a very sweet guy! Things are finally going right for me and I couldn't be any happier!)

(Kayla, 1986)

I had my head inside the Liberty Bell and someone was striking it repeatedly with a large mallet. I groaned and woke up to hear Tom's simultaneous groan. The phone was ringing. I fumbled for that instrument of torture and looked at the clock and scowled. Seven o' clock. Who the hell was calling us at this ungodly hour?

"Kayla?" the voice on the other end asked from a distance. I flipped the receiver around so that I was no longer holding it upside down.

"Cheyenne," I said. "The next time you call me this early on a Saturday, I'll pull your hair out."

Tom groaned again and put his pillow over his eyes.

"You'r hungover!" she scolded loudly. I moved the receiver a good six inches from my ear while she prattled incessantly about how ashamed she was.

Tom groaned louder and rolled onto his stomach. I reached down and unplugged the phone, wondering as I fell back asleep how long it would take Cheyenne to realize all her bitching was failing to do more than sear some phone lines.

Sometime around noon, as I lay watching him, Tom pulled the pillow off his head. "I don't know how you do that without suffocating," I said.

He managed a smile. "I'm going to tell Cheyenne that we are moving to the Himalayas and can't be reached by phone."

"Sooner or later she'll come over to check things out."

"What did Cheyenne want?"

"I don't know. I unplugged her."

He laughed and pulled me close. "Let's stay in bed all day."

"Are you kidding? I need to get some excersize if I want to fit in my wedding dress."

"Who said you won't be getting excersize?"

There was a loud banging at the front door. I heard my name being screeched by a fishwife. The bedroom is at the back of the house, but we could hear her "I know you're in there!" quite plainly.

"Cheyenne says I wo't be getting exercise."

Tom groaned for the fourth time that morning and reached for his jeans. I hurriedly got into a bathroom and ran to the front door.

"Hell's bells, Cheyenne," I called out as I made my way down the hallway, "keep your panties on!"

I opened the door and she shot into the house likeshe had been launched from a catapult.

"I can't believe you hung up on me! Tom hasn't taught you any manners?"

What she could see just then was Tom, coming down the hallway as he buttoned a shirt. It stopped her mid-tiade.

"Good morning, Cheyenne," he said.

She took in his bare feet and sleep-tousled hair and began to laugh.

(I know that this isn't finished, but it's just a draft. I tried to add a few more metaphors here and actually make this sound much nicer than my other stories. I want a more sophisticated writing style and nothing so simplistic. )