I was, unluckily, awoken by Dad's Magnemite. Still occasionally spasming an hour later, I stepped into the bathroom, combed my hair and washed my face. The coolness of the water was refreshing on my warm skin and washed the sleep out of my eyes. I washed my face with a towel, and moved slowly out of the tiled bathroom onto the fluffy cream carpet of the hallway. I paused and gazed at a picture of my late mum. Unlike most kids, I never knew my mother, though dad often told me stories of what she would do, and the funny expressions she would use and somehow Dad could never shake off. You could, on the rare occasion that he actually made something worthy of a human's stomach, still catch him making exetremely unnatural noises after we finished.