First day of the Orson Welles marathon. First couple of films were airing today, mainly The Third Man and F for Fake. Not the best, but it was all still good regardless.
He went to bed around 11 to 12 and had a good rest. He was planning on sleeping in, something he didn't normally do. But someone interrupted those plans.
Around 5, he felt someone poking his face. He just turned to the other side, the bed too warm to get up and investigate. Then, it stopped.
Finally, he heard an air horn and jumped 5 feet in the air, hitting his face on the floor, still half asleep and his vision blurry.
Pinky bent down and opened his eyes for him. "Morning, narf!"
Finally, Brain snapped somewhat awake and saw Pinky in front of him. He was wearing red and white striped pajamas. He considered grabbing a book and knocking out the intruder, but remembered the offer he made.
He got up and sat on his bed, rubbing his chin from the force of the impact.
"Why are we up this early?" Brain groaned, still half asleep.
Pinky sat down next to him, a plate of pancakes in his lap, eating them while he spoke.
"Me mum always said the early bird gets the worm. I also made breakfast, if you wanted some. Yours are on the pan."
The smell of burning dough snapped Brain fully awake, jerking him out of the bed and running down to the kitchen. He turned off the heat, the fire alarm blaring in the background. He threw the pan into the sink and turned on the water, the steam arising from the sink. The entire kitchen smelled like charcoal, suffocating Brain and forcing him to open a window.
Pinky walked in and placed his plate on the counter. "Oops, forgot that the pan was hot. My bad. You can have some of mine, poit!"
Pinky slapped a half-eaten pancake onto a different plate, drowned it in whipped cream, and slid it over to Brain.
Still pissed off, Brain took one bite, then immediately spit it out. The taste violated his taste buds, nearly making him gag at the blend of ill-fitting flavors.
"What in the hell is this?" he choked, the curse word feeling odd on his tongue. He usually tried to avoid it, but it was damn well needed in this case!
"Brussel sprout and Nutella pancakes. Just like Mum used to make! Here, have some more!"
Pinky shoved the plate under Brain's nose, the odor making Brain ill. He pushed the plate away.
"I will be fine now. I am going back to bed. It is five in the morning; I would like to sleep."
Pinky shrugged his shoulders as Brain left. "Picky, picky. Guess not all of us are morning people." He then turned on the television and sat down to finish his pancakes.
Brain sunk back into bed, now cold because he had been gone for a while. He shut his eyes, trying to recreate the feeling from before.
Then, the TV began blaring noise. Saturday morning cartoons.
Gritting his teeth, he eventually fell back asleep, but then his alarm went off the next thing he knew. Not even a moment of rest.
He got up and started getting ready. Perhaps two more aspirin would do the trick.