Slowly opening his eyes, Light Yagami sleepily tried to remember what day it was. Yesterday was… Friday. Which meant today was Saturday! Relieved, Light yanked the curtains shut, pulled his dinosaur-patterned blanket back over his head, and let himself drift back into sleep.
When he next awoke, Light noted that quite a bit of time had passed. The light that managed to shine in through the curtains was much brighter, and the quiet hum of early morning traffic had changed to a din of honking, car motors, and people talking. Reluctantly, Light rolled out of bed and trudged down the stairs. His mind was filled with cinnamon rolls, pancakes, waffles, omelets, and just about every breakfast food on the planet. Sleeping in late, though nice, did have its setbacks. Light sniffed, expecting to smell the food that he was picturing in his head. He smelled nothing. Strange, usually by this time of morning his mom would have started making him breakfast. Light entered the kitchen, surprised to find it empty. Ordinarily, his father would be sitting at the table, drinking coffee and reading the paper. The entire was room was empty, and an eerie silence seemed to hang in the air.
Why aren't Mommy and Daddy up yet? Light thought, they always get up before me- especially on Saturdays!
Light's mind quickly began inventing scenarios to explain why this previously unquestioned pattern had been broken. Maybe they needed to go get something, like syrup. Or maybe they're next door, chatting with our neighbors. Or maybe they just slept in for once. That must be it! Light thought triumphantly. Mommy was yawning a lot last night. She must still be sleeping. She and Daddy have been very tired lately, especially since Sayu is up crying most of the night. A genius idea popped into Light's mind. I know! I can make Mommy and Daddy breakfast! They'll be so happy when they come downstairs and there's food all ready and waiting for them. A huge grin spread across Light's face as he anticipated surprising his parents. He then paused for a few moments, trying to decide what to make. Eggs seemed like the best choice. Unlike pancakes or waffles, all you needed to really do to eggs was cook them: they didn't need to be combined with a ton of other ingredients beforehand. Light pried open the refrigerator, peering up at the top shelves that held the eggs. He reached up, standing on tiptoe, but fell short by a foot or so. Annoyed by his lack of height, Light sat down, trying to think of a way to reach the eggs. There were a few conveniently located shelves, on about a third of the way up, another halfway. He scrambled up, his hand finally level with the eggs. Cautiously, he reached out and plucked an egg out of its carton. He then jumped down, cradling his prize with both hands. He did this five more times, managing to break only one egg in the process.
Turning on the stove, Light struggled to remember how his mother cracked eggs. Had she tapped it on the side of the bowl? Pulled it apart? Cut it in half? He could vaguely recall her using a knife to break the shell in half. Light searched the drawers for knives, but couldn't find any. At last, he came across a pair of chopsticks. These would have to do. He gripped the chopstick with both hands and prodded the egg tentatively. It proceeded to roll away across the countertop. Light sprinted across to the ledge where the egg was teetering, just barely managing to catch it before it hit the ground. Annoyed, Light stomped back to the bowl, determined to make eggs. Seeing no other choice, he dropped the egg into the bowl, causing it to splat open. He then began the tedious process of picking out all the pieces of shell. When finally he had managed to extract most of the shell bits, Light set about cracking the other eggs. Since breaking them and picking out the shell took much too long, he would have to be content with just smashing the eggs and ignoring the shell. Mom had always told him that it was the thought that counts, anyway. He poured his egg and shell mixture into a pan, hoping it would cook. He waited there for a few minutes, then got bored and walked away.
When he returned, the ooze was smoking and blackened. Alarmed, Light whisked it off the stove, shoved it under the sink and turned the water on at full pressure. I huge cloud of steam filled the room, blocking Lights vision and lungs. Coughing, he turned the stove off. He would admit the eggs were not his best work, but they were something. He scraped them off the pan and onto three plates, one for his father, one for his mother, and one for him. Next, he set about making coffee.
After a few minutes of checking various cupboards and shelves, Light finally managed to locate a small jar filled with coffee beans. He recalled that whenever his father made coffee, it was using ground up coffee beans. Light stared at the small dark brown beans, perplexed. How was it his father got them to go all powdery? He considered chopping them up with a knife, and then remembered that he couldn't find any. A hammer might work, but the beans would probably just fly everywhere.
At last, he decided that a blender was most likely his best option. He plugged the blender in to the socket on the wall and emptied to contents of the jar into it. Then, making sure that the top was on, Light turned the blender to the highest possible setting and then pressed to on button. Coffee beans sprayed across the room, many of them hitting Light on the head, the rest scattering across the room. Frustrated, Light picked collected the beans from their various landing places around the room, dumped them in the blender, and clamped the top down. This time, Light didn't let go off the top when he turned the blender on, and the coffee beans ground up like they were supposed to.
After a minute or so of blending, Light turned the blender off and tentatively lifted the lid off. Though not the fine brown powder Light had pictured, the coffee beans were mostly crushed. He spooned the brown mush into two mugs, planning his next step in making coffee. He knew that he must next add hot water to the coffee beans. Putting the sink on its hot water setting, Light waited for the water to become warm enough to use. After a few moments, he stuck a hand under the faucet, and decided that the water was hot enough. He filled the mugs with water from the faucet, waiting for the liquid to turn the creamy brown color of coffee. Unfortunately, the coffee flavored lump at the bottom of the mugs and the lukewarm water refused to mix, even when poked with a spoon.
With a frustrated sigh, Light plopped down on a chair and waited for his parents to come downstairs.