Waking Up
Six year old Tony Stark would be the first to admit that he wasn't an early bird. He hated everything about mornings, with the exception of Saturday morning cartoons. But any other mornings, no. And school days were especially bad for the young genius.
After his alarm had pulled him out of blissful sleep, Tony had tossed on clothes that he'd possibly worn the day before, stumbled half asleep down the stairs and had sat down to the kitchen table for a full five minutes before realizing that his parents were still asleep.
Grumbling jealously, he poured himself a bowl of cereal and swallowed it without really paying attention to anything around him. He was on autopilot, and he probably would be until recess. But as he placed his bowl in the sink, he noticed that something didn't feel quite right. He got the scare of his life (well, of the morning) when he realized what it was that wasn't right: his head was on backwards!
"Help! Help," he screeched, probably rousing his still sleeping parents on their day off. "Mom! Dad! My head! I'm facing backwards! My head got completely twisted around!"
He burst into their room, still shouting and turning on all the brightest lights. He pulled his shirt collar down to show his still sleeping father. "Look! I can read the tag on my shirt! I can see down my own back!"
Without even cracking his eyes open, Howard Stark reached out and tugged Tony's shirt up, poking his belly button. "Feels like your stomach," he muttered, clicking the light off and turning over in the bed.
Tony hiked his shirt up higher and poked it himself, just to be sure. "I guess you're right," he said, taking his shirt off. "I must've just had my shirt on backwards." He put it on the right way and migrated to his mother's side of the bed. "Sorry for waking you," he said without bothering to lower his voice. "Never mind what I was shouting about before. I've got my head on straight after all."
"Oh, I wouldn't go that far," she grumbled, turning away from Tony as well.
Shrugging, Tony exited his parent's room and continued to get ready for school.
Maria Stark reached out and slapped her husband's cheek. Light enough to be a love tap, but hard enough to get his attention. Howard jolted and glared at Maria. "Ow! What on earth was that for?"
"I thought I told you to stop buying him those Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs!"
"Didn't I tell you we should've adopted the twenty-five year old with his own apartment…"
"I don't want to go to school," Tony declared, bursting back into his parent's room. "I hate school! I'd rather do anything than go to school!"
Howard sat up and massaged his temples. "Okay, Tony. You don't have to go to school."
Tony's indignation vanished in an instant. "Really?"
Maria sat up beside her husband, sleepily glaring at him. "Really?"
"Nope. I'll go to school and Tony can get a job."
Tony's mouth twisted thoughtfully. "Well…"
Howard shook his head. "Trust me. You'll like working till evening and being responsible for the subsistence of your family. And, lucky you, your whiny kid's griping will be your only reward."
Huffing, Tony stormed out of their room once more to fetch his backpack. "Nice to know there's so much in life to look forward to," he muttered with a scowl.
So I got this idea when I was thinking about how Tony probably terrorized his parents and his peers as a child. Inspiration also came from reading one of my favorite comics of all time, Calvin and Hobbs!
Edit: And by inspiration, I mean that I was reading Calvin and Hobbs comic strips and was strongly reminded of Ironman and got the idea that, as a child, I imagined that Tony would be very similar to Calvin. In no way, shape, or form do own either Ironman or Calvin and Hobbs. They belong to Marvel and Bill Watterson.