Hey,
you faithful readers, (and even the not-so-faithful ones)
Thanks
for the info on the repeated chapter. J
Something
is up with the review notice, and I'm not getting told when a person takes pity
on me and reviews… sniff sniff
Crazy
H, I assure you that your siblings are nothing compared to mine!
------------------------------------
Now,
I don't think I will ever hear anything to equal the noise those three boys
made over that one, tiny balloon. To appreciate this, you have to understand
that I lived in the city most of my life.
I
shook my head, amazed that the most noise I'd ever heard would be far out in
the country. The Smiths live on five
acres, and the nearest neighbor wasn't within shouting distance. (A/N Okay, so I elaborated a little here
too. Our neighbors are within
shouting distance, but it's fiction, right? We do have five acres, though)
I'd
thought they were bad before. I was
wrong. Of course, this may have something
to do with the fact that the racquetball court echoes. Every time you take a step it echoes. It can get a little annoying.
Anyway,
you haven't lived until you've heard three children who just had their balloon
popped screaming in a room that echoes. Believe me, it's not a fun experience. Particularly when you are supposed to calm them down.
"Joseph! Joshua! Jacob!"
I
rarely yell. But I was going out of my
mind. The boys didn't pay the slightest
bit of attention. I guess they were used
to it.
"AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"WWWWWWWWWHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
"SHUT
UP!" Whoa. Celeste can really shout.
However,
true to form, the boys didn't acknowledge us at all.
(Kristy
Quote: I'll bet Alan Gray (sp?) was
like that when he was little.)
I surveyed the scene, and decided that there was no way I could make them be quiet.
Thus concluding, I made my way to the kitchen where Celeste had hidden several seconds earlier. She was assembling the ingredients for some strange creation. "Yo," I said tiredly. She ignored me.
"Yo!" I said, a little louder. Still no response. "What are you making?" She didn't even blink. "CELESTE!" I waved a hand in her face. Now, I find it hard to believe that she went deaf and blind all at once, unfortunately.
Even
worse, I couldn't prove that this hunch was correct.
So
I just returned the compliment, and didn't even look up when a crash!
came from the area where she was working.
Not
even when she turned on the oven. (Kaye
had made it plain that we weren't supposed to use the oven)
Not
even when she took out her food and began chewing with her mouth open.
Not
even when… wait, I did look up when she
'accidentally' spilled some water on me. "Celeste! What has gotten into
you?"
Kaye
sauntered in. "I'll tell you what's
gotten into her; the true Celeste Smith has finally surfaced. No more hiding behind that 'Miss Perfect'
mask, you are seeing her!"
When
Kaye starts talking like that, it's best to follow the age-old admonition "Run
for cover!" It means she is feeling
pretty annoyed. Her insults are
unequaled. I guess being the oldest of
six kids does that to you.
"Ice
cream, ice cream ice cream!!!" Jacob came dancing into the kitchen carrying a
box of ice cream. (what a
surprise…)
"Yes,
we know you scream, please lower your voice!" Kaye snapped.
Celeste
tried to grab the ice cream, but Jacob wasn't letting it go anywhere. He held onto that box like his life depended
on it. "This isn't for now!" Celeste
shouted.
"I
will eat it!" Joseph threatened, having come up behind Jacob.
Kaye
glared at all, and very slowly said, "If you do not hand that over, Jacob, I will bury the Star Wars CD!"
Judging
from the horrified looks on the boys faces, they believed her. And this gave Celeste the chance to snatch
the box. As she headed out of the room,
I asked Kaye in a mystified way, "Where
did they get it? They weren't by the
freezer."
"Oh," Kaye said causally, the danger gone out of her
voice. "They went to the shop."
Okay;
read this story, and try to figure out the moral. I'll even put here for the more blind of you.
As
is my crazy habit, I threw my jeans into the laundry room without emptying the
pockets. About two hours later, my mom
called me in there and held up a little slip of paper. "Why did you write 'reviews' all over this
coupon?" I sort of froze and stammered
something to the effect of "Uh… er… um…
you see… Uh…"
The
point is, I am going crazy by lack of reviews! Admitted, there are some kind people out there who did
review. And I'm eternally grateful to
them. But not enough!
Much
love,
Rose-Bud