This story takes place in real life, where Alvin and the Chipmunks don't actually exist.
Also, this story uses my name but does not describe the real me. The parents and living location are also fake, just for the sake of the story.
*WARNING* Your brain may explode. I use big and descriptive words.
My POV
You know that feeling you get on the mornings you don't use an alarm clock? The ones where you're just so engrossed in the relentless warm embrace of your bed that you don't realize you're awake. How the only thing that gets you out of bed is the mouth watering aroma of bacon and eggs, sizzling and crackling on the stove. The scent overwhelms you, and the next thing you know, your blanket is on the other side of the room and you're already dressed and bounding down the hallway and into the kitchen to greet your family.
At least that's how all my mornings are here in Carmel, California. Ever since the incident at school back in eighth grade, my parents have insisted on home schooling me, therefore eliminating almost all bed times and I never have to get up early. Every morning is the same. Wake up to the smell of breakfast, slip on a pair of cargo pants, a white t-shirt, and my favorite jacket, a red hoodie with a big, bold A on the front, run to the kitchen and fill my plate.
Did I mention I'm a huge Alvin and the Chipmunks fan? You could say i'm a little obsessed with them. My I-pod is chock full of chipmunk music, both professional, and fan made. I have every movie and TV episode on DVD or VHS and AatC posters hang everywhere in my room. Yeah, and I wonder why those kids back in eighth grade pummeled me to a pulp at the bus stop. If it hadn't been for the purple and red mural I wore coming through the front door of my house that day, I'd still be getting a proper education.
Anyways, there's nothing to be done about it now. The kids that beat me up got expelled and my parents never let me set foot on school property again.
Now, my parents have never been particularly fond of my obsession with Alvin and the Chipmunks, but they've come to respect it. They even bothered to take me to one of those live performances at the mall where three guys are dressed as the chipmunks and not only do choreography, but act pretty much exactly how the real Alvin and the Chipmunks would.
It kind of angered me a bit when ever they got a slight personality detail wrong but it was good enough for my taste. I never got to see a live Chipettes performance, but...the Chipmunks are my favorites anyways.
Well, I'm out of bed now. I'm wearing the usual, and trudge drowsily, but quickly out of my room and into the kitchen. I find my mom, Lilly Reed, standing in the fridge door way, rummaging through the cartons of milk and such. She's wearing a pink t-shirt and green track shorts, accompanied by a pair of white sneakers. Her hair is tied back into a pony tail, and two thin locks of hair jut out from her forehead, held up by gel. She isn't wearing any make up since it never looks right on her roundish face and green eyes.
My dad sits at the dining room table, sipping from a mug of coffee, skimming the pages of the daily newspaper. His name is Alfred Reed but we just call him Al. He's wearing a blue business suite, complete with the blue overcoat, white undershirt, and brown and red checker patterned tie. The brown slacks he wears match his suit perfectly. He works for a local bank. He's a seven foot, broad shouldered man, which matches his face. Muscle creases line his cheek bones, and his dark brown eyes and short hair complete him. Noticing me, he folds up the article before taking another sip of coffee. Steam fogs his rectangular reading glasses.
"Good morning Deven!" Booms Al. If the smell of bacon didn't wake you up, his voice sure would.
"Um, good morning dad." I reply groggily.
I pull a chair out from the table and slouch in it like I always do. I said before that I always get plenty of sleep. But that doesn't mean i'm peppy in the morning. Still, it's better then getting up at 5:30 a.m. for school. I look over to Lilly, who is now spreading jelly on the toast that popped up a minute ago.
"Going out for a jog huh mom?" I asked, awaiting the obvious answer.
"Yep. We'll have breakfast first to get us going for the day, then i'll be heading out for Devendorf Park on 6th street. Your father will just be doing what he does best," said Lilly as she set our plates onto the dinner table, "filing bank accounts, making deposits and withdrawals twenty four seven. I don't know how you can stand working so much honey."
She sat down at the table and forked in a mouthful of grits and egg. Al was about to dig in as well but stopped himself.
"Hey Deven, go get the remote from the coffee table. I'm gonna see what's on the news." Said Al, pointing to the living room.
I obeyed, knowing it was pointless to argue that he didn't need the TV news since he had the daily paper, but he never listens. I suppose he has his reasons.