"The Lord reigns, let the earth be glad."

-Psalms 97:1

Chapter 1

"MOM!" Bell shrieked in her girlish way. "Tell Beau to stop pulling my HAIR!"

"Beau, leave your sister alone," My mother responded impatiently. Her voice was sharp with frustration.

"I'm not touching her hair," Beau whined desperately. Although it was evident he was lying, considering the disheveled state of my sister's hair. Yup, backseat drama…happens all the time.

"I didn't say you were touching it…I said you were PULLING it!"

"Bell, calm down. Beau, stop messing with your sister," came My mother's voice, again. Her patience was obviously wearing thin. I think at that point I could hear her teeth grinding. I know it sounds sad…but that's pretty normal around here, if you know what I mean.

"But I'm not even near her!"

"Beau!" My father shouted. Great, it's never pretty when he gets involved. "If you don't leave your sister alone, I'll whack you upside the head until your ears ring!"

"Butch," my Mom began jadedly. She gave him a disapproving look while rubbing her temple. My father looked at her and shrugged his shoulders.

"Hush! I'm trying to text," Bari cried.

"Why do you need people to be quiet for you to text?" my Dad said a little calmer.

"I don't know; I just want everyone to shut up!" Bari started.

Hey, 'sup? My name's Ben. Yeah, you guessed it. This is my family. Sounds great so far, huh? You have Mom and Dad in the front, the first two kids in the second row, and the youngest in the very back. Apparently, I'm the oldest, fifteen to be exact. On the other side of the car next to me is Bari. She's the second oldest at the fabulous age of fourteen. In the back is Beauregard – Beau for short. He's eight if you haven't already guessed, and the youngest of all is Bell. She's the extremely adorable and bratty six year old who was miserably forced to sit in the back with her loving bro.

Here are a few special characteristics about my nuclear family. First of all, we all have black hair. No really, all of us. Black hair. That's it. It makes me feel so special. Second feature: we all have green eyes. Dark green, light green, whatever. You call the shots. I myself have dark green eyes, along with my sister Bell. Beau and Bari have light green eyes.

Ok, here are the negative traits of our family: our eyes take up half our head. Also, we lack fingers. Yes, we have no fingers…at least it appears that way. Don't ask me how I hold a pencil. Don't ask me how I blow my nose. Don't ask me how Beau picks his nose. Don't ask me how I eat pretzels. It's very complicated. Don't question the system! (Because I don't know how it works.) All I know is that it makes me feel like a stupid dress-up doll! I mean seriously. I don't fit in with society.

Now, concerning the eye-thing: it's cute when you're like…three! I'll even go so far as to say eight or something. Fifteen? No. Not so much. I'm pretty ashamed of them. Actually, my eyes are the main reason why I let my bangs grow out: so they'd cover the stupid things! My hair is long enough to cover half my ears, but no longer. My mother is sort of picky about that. Beau's hair is pretty normal for an eight-year-old. The only distinguishable feature is the cowlick poking out of his head. Bari's hair is medium long and curls at the end. Bell's hair is short, but we put them in pigtails most of the time to keep it out of her face.

"Bari, watch the attitude." My mother leaned over her seat this time to face her unruly daughter. You probably would know my Mom better as Buttercup. She used to be a Powerpuff Girl, along with her two sisters Bubbles and Blossom. Nowadays, they spend their time either fighting crime out in the streets somewhere, or raising children at home.

Ask any of them and I'm sure the response will be the same: being a housewife, and serving the community by fighting monsters is not an easy task. In fact, they'd probably advise against it. However, the monsters at this time are becoming critically endangered. I'm not quite sure why. I know it has something to do with an island. I also know it had something to do with the Professor. However, I don't know for sure, mostly because nobody would tell me. Nobody really tells me anything. I'm not allowed to help and/or terrorize the world. It doesn't really make much sense considering my parents did it when they were like, what? Six?

Here is a little background on Professor Utoniam: A while ago, he "created" My mother and two aunts in his lab-thingy-place. Yep, you guessed it: sugar, spice, and everything nice were the ingredients chosen to create the perfect little girls. Go figure. But during the process, a little accident occurred, thanks to the work of an underpaid monkey and Chemical X. So, after a few dramatic changes (which ironically included some superpowers) the Powerpuff Girls were born! So, what about my Dad? Well, that's a different story. He was made from snails, body hair, and a doggy tail in a radioactive toilet. Don't ask. It's a long story.

Here, this might clear things up a little better: My father and his two brothers are best known as the Rowdyruff Boys: Boomer, Brick and Butch (Butch is my Dad). They were created by a certain green monkey who wanted to get revenge on the girls. As you can imagine…these guys didn't get along too well. In fact, they didn't get along at all. As time went on, they ironically got married and each had four to five kids. How does this happen you might ask? Now that's a complicated story. I might clarify on it later. Isn't it great? We're all exactly like our parents. It makes me tear up sometimes. (I strongly advise sarcasm.)

Well, whatever. All I know is that the monster scarcity thing gave us some time to spend on vacation. You wouldn't think that would be too bad, right? Just three super-powered siblings and two parents traveling cross-country to Arizona. That's not too bad, huh? It might even be…fun?

I guess it would be…if all ten of your cousins weren't tagging along.

Yeah, sadly my aunts and uncles had the same bright idea. Thankfully, my relatives have enough common sense to drive in separate cars. So, why aren't we flying you might ask? Well, that's a good question. All of us have the ability; there are just a few minor problems:

One of my little cousins just happens to be a two-year-old. Carrying him the whole way would be sort of…yeah, difficult

Cross-country is pretty far…and frequent stops would need to be made. With fourteen kids in all, we want to keep stops to a minimal.

Weather conditions are unpredictable, and so are hotel rooms…duh!

Somebody insisted that driving to our destination would be more of an adventure. Whatever that means… (And, if you haven't guessed, I have a dumb blonde in the family….actually I have a couple dumb blondes in my family.)

Hey, I wasn't lying when I said I was the oldest. Yeah it's true. All ten of my cousins are younger then me. I guess it's not so bad…sometimes. It can be fun, except for the fact that all of them live within biking distance from my house. Yippy.

Here are all of us in order: me, Beth, Bari, Brooke, Brett, Blythe, Birch, Bridgett, Beau, Bruno, Bell, Blazer, Belinda, and Boomer Jr. We just call Boomer Jr. Junior for short (who happens to be the two year old I was talking about earlier). What's with the "B's?" Consider it an old family tradition. I say that because I really have no idea why.

So in summary, I'm a freak. I come from a family of freaks. My mother came out of a chemical experiment, and my father exploded from a toilet. We have huge eyes, no fingers, super-powers; we're made up of sugar and snails for crying out loud! My whole family is made up of weirdoes! I don't fit in with the public. I mean face it! We're freaky bug-eyed weirdo people who break everything and are freaky! (I'm not mentally unstable by the way, I'm just ranting.) Well, I never tell anyone this, because nobody is really all that upset about it except for me. Guess I should be thankful. I mean, I can fly. That's a benefit right? Or does it just make me more of a freak? I'll leave that for you to decide.

Things began to quiet down a little bit. I crossed my arms and rested my chin on top of them. I starred out the window blankly hoping that maybe I could spare some of my sanity…at least the little bit I had left. All my hopes and dreams diminished when I heard those dreadful words:

"Hey Dad…Dad…Dad…Dad." Beau was getting restless…again.

"Yes son," My father answered reluctantly.

"Guess what?"

"What?"

"I wrote a song. Do you wanna hear it? Do yah? Do yah, Dad?"

"Ok, just one."

"Ok, ok:

Twinkle, twinkle, little frog.

How I wonder where your mustache is.

Uppa buppa spaghetti friend,

I like cheese, and bugs named Fred.

Twinkle, twinkle little bumble bee,

How I wonder why you're dumb.

I wrote it myself, Dad!"

"That's great, Beau."

"You wanna hear another one?"

"I'm trying to drive, son. Why don't you tell me later?"

"What did you say?"

"He said he doesn't want to hear another one of your stupid songs!" Bell screamed.

"Hey, I wasn't talking to you, Mrs. Grumpy Pants!" Beau starred straight ahead of him towards the driver. "Ok. Later then?"

"Yeah, sure later."

A few minutes went by. I thought that maybe I could salvage some of the peace left in the car. That failed too:

"Hey Dad!...Dad,"

"Yes, Beau,"

"I'm hungry!" His eyes widened innocently. I sighed and slammed my face against my arms.

"You just ate breakfast."

"But that was like…30 minutes ago! And I'm still hungry."

"Honey, you're going to have to wait," My mother chimed in.

"How long will that be?"

"A few hours," my Dad admitted.

"No! That's too long. I'll implode!" My father sighed while shaking his head. I saw My mother lean in close to him and she began to whisper a bunch of words. I really couldn't hear what she was saying…except for "hyperactive," and "pay back." But that was it.

"Hey Dad," Beau began again.

"What is it?"

"Do you like kitties?"

"Ok," My mother broke off. "We're going to play the quiet game now. Whoever wins gets an ice-cream cone at lunch, ok? So be quiet. We're starting now."

"Oh boy! I like ice-cream…I want ice-cream. I am soooo going to win this! It's in the bag. It's been decided. It's been prophesied. I can already taste it. Yeah, this is all mine! Sooo gonna win…"

"Beau," I spoke up while lifting my head.

"I think I'll get...chocolate."

"Beau," I said a little louder.

"Yeah?"

"…you already lost." There was a small silence. For a minute all that could be heard was the rush of the car and the muted sound of the radio. Beau's face was blank and his mouth was agape.

"…well….you lost too!"

"Oh no. Ice-cream is my life. Whatever shall I do?" I said that in a monotone voice. Beau got the idea, but it didn't keep him quiet. I'm ashamed to admit that My mother's hopes and dreams were also crushed…oh well; this was all their idea anyways.