I awoke the next morning facing the fuzzy side of the couch. Embarrassingly enough, a trickle of drool had formed down the side of my face, and my now asleep hand, for I had been laying on it the entire night, wiped it away slowly. My eyes, crusted with sleep, produced blurry images as they adjusted to the environment around them.

Once I had rolled over on my back, I knew something was wrong. I mean, I didn't know exactly what was wrong, but something was disturbed in the air. If you think with all my super-sensing abilities, that I'd be able to tell precisely what was wrong, you'd be the one who was wrong. But, hey, cut me some slack, I was tired and was awake earlier than needed.

It must've be no later than 5:30 when I rolled over on my opposite side to see what had woke me up. I heard the faint clinking of pans rubbing together and a low singing. Rubbing more sleep out of my eyes, I moaned, trying to wake up more fully. Not as easy as you'd think.

I rose slowly to my feet and plodded over the kitchen area and leaned on the countertop. Original Cindy, with her frizzy hair tied back in a shawl, was doing the singing.

"Isn't it a little bit early?" I whined, my eyes still pinched shut from the early morning light.

"When Original Cindy gotta go t'work, she hasta git up early."

"It's not even six!" I protested.

"I know, boo."

I walked back over to the couch and flopped down, throwing my right arm over my eyes to block out the light. Cindy, not really caring, continued her singing in the background. Just because she had to go to work early didn't mean that the entire apartment had to be woke up as well. Ok, so that was a little bit harsh, but I wanted to actually sleep in.

As I lay there, attempting to go back to sleep, (key word: attempting), I heard the soft pad of feet go by me.

"Mornin'" Cindy said to the person.

"Morning," the person mumbled back. I heard them walk over to the bathroom and close the door, letting it click locked behind them.

"Who was that?" I moaned, refusing to get up.

"'Dat be yo father."

"Zack?" I questioned, just to make sure.

"Uh-huh." She paused, and I heard the clinking of plates as she set the table. "You want somethin' to eat?"

"Might as well," I muttered and literally rolled off the couch to join her for breakfast. It's not like I wasn't getting anymore sleep that morning anyhow.

Cindy and I had grown closer than I thought possible. She might have been a crazy old lesbian, but she wasn't that crazy. Besides, aren't we all a little crazy anyhow?

We both ate toast with jelly and milk. I would've preferred juice, but the pulse wasn't forgiving to certain people. Everybody had to sacrifice something. And, if my sacrifice had to be juice, then so be it.

"Mom still in bed?" I asked Cindy between mouthfuls of sticky toast.

"Yeah, but she…" Cindy paused as she finished chewing. "But she was not in one of her betta moods last night."

"Huh?"

"Boo tossed and turned like she was runnin' or somethin'. Nearly pushed Original Cindy off 'da bed. Then, she got like all hot. Kicked all the blankets over to Original Cindy and began pacin' the room-"

That's when Mom came out, wrapped in a bathrobe, and interrupted Cindy. "Good morning," she purred and began to prepare a cup of coffee.

After watching her for a minute, and, having heard what Cindy had said, I knew what the disturbances in the air were about. I hadn't suffered through eighteen years of it not to know. "Oh no," I moaned and laid my head in my hands.

"What?" Cindy asked. Mom apparently hadn't heard me-not that I was surprised.

"She's in heat again."