"Larry, get up," a voice said firmly, giving him a shove.
"What?" Larry said, dreamily, coming out of a deep sleep.
"It's time for dinner," his mother sighed out, sounding very annoyed. She was a very thin woman, her face very tight, with small wrinkles around the corners of her lips from frowning. Her skin was tanned an blotchy from spending too many days as a teenager, bathing in the sun. She looked nothing like Larry. Her eyes were small and dark. She hand stringy, dirty blonde hair that reached to her shoulders when it wasn't in a ponytail. Right now, she was wearing a tight black shirt that only made her look thinner and a tight pair of faded jeans. Light scarlet lipstick decorated the white cigarette she held, pursed between her fingers.
"Oh, right," Larry said dully, lifting himself from the bed. His mother, who was seated next to him, moved out of his way.
"Try to brush your hair or something for Christsakes. We have company."
"Okay," Larry said submissively. He began pulling a comb through his hair, not protesting the fact that his mother was smoking in his room, even though he had a slight allergy toward smoke, that she knew perfectly well about. He figured if he had some kind of an attack, perhaps it may prove to be exciting. It would be something other than going down to dinner.
From the top of the stairs, Larry could hear loud, gruff voices talking in the dining room. Suddenly, his little sister dashed around him, running down the stairs. Her name was Sandra, but every one called her sandy, partially because of her hair colour. Sandy was a spitting image of her mother, except that her hair was longer and thicker. The pigtails sticking out from either side of her head, stretched down to her middle back. Flinging herself off the last step, with one hand on the banister, Sandy made her way towards the dinner table, wearing faded overalls and a lavender shirt. Soft thuds came from beneath her pink shoes as she ran. Larry took his first step. A roar of laughter came from the dining room, this time with a woman's laugh that wasn't his mothers. Curiosity pressing against his spine, he reluctantly made his way down the rest of the steps, one hand resting lazily on the banister. A very pretty woman was sitting at the table. She had short, platnum blonde hair and deep green eyes. Her skin was very fair. A tight black dress curved around her figure. The colour flattered her much more than Larry's mother. A wine glass, containing white chardonay was lightly draped in her hand. Larry made his way toward the table, deciding this woman must have been the wife of his father's friend. Larry watched his father fawn over his little sister, heaping a spoonful of mashed potatos on her plate. The blonde woman squealed out at "how adorable" she was. Awkwardly, Larry took a seat at the empty chair near his sister, praying that this would be one night his father would just ignore his existance, as his mother did so well. Thinking of her at that moment, she took the seat across from him, so casually you would think she was the only person in the room. Her tall lanky frame, hung over the table. A stone look of boredom was plastered across her face as it was outlined by a ring of white fog. Her plate remained empty as she made no attempt to reach out for food. To her right, sat Mitch. Next to him was his wife, who Larry would later discover was named "Suzy". At the head of the table was his father, to his father's left, Sandy sat, kicking her feet playfully under the table.
Larry reached out for a pork chop and a filled the rest of his plate with ceasar salad. However, he didn't feel very hungry. Only anxious that his father would say something awful and also very anxious about the dream he'd had. Only bits and pieces remained fresh in his mind, yet each memory was highly vivid and the it seemed very disturbing.
The evening went considerably well, considering. Larry had managed to finish most of his meal, even through the fact that his company's stupidity sickened him to the point of nausea. Even his mother had managed to eat a roll and some green beans, which was strange for her. His father had been too preoccupied with catching up on things, he'd neglected to give Larry his normal sermon on what makes a "real man". Larry watched them talking, glancing from his empty plate to the stairs, wondering if he could make a stealthy and unnoticed exit. His mother sipped on her third cup of coffee, dreamily staring off into space, completely unaware of her surroundings. Daring to tempt fate, Larry abandonned his dirty plate, smeared with ceasar dressing and decorated with a few sprigs of lettuce and a pork chop bone. He walked, trying to look as casual as he could manage, up the stairs and to his room. Heaving a sigh of relief at his safety, he locked his room and went to sit on the couch in his room. Eyes flashing from shelf to shelf, he tried to find a suitable book to keep his interest until it was time to go to sleep. Having read them all, he simply grabbed one blindly. It turned out to be "Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers", a particular favourite of his. Feeling a moment of saddness that his night would be spent submerging himself in fantasy, instead of going out with friends, Larry proceeded on, reading each page quickly. An hour later he was half way through, his spirits slightly uplifted, as he retreated to this world where anything seemed possible. Where all his troubles had blown away with the wind. Larry was the hero in this world. This was one moment in which he could be strong and happy. Embrace the world around him. He kept reading, even though it was already 9:30. Larry didn't exactly feel like sleeping. Not after the dream.
Once the clock read 2:30 AM, and Larry had already devoured four books, he decided it was time to sleep. Rubbing his eyes, he made his way towards his bed, which was looking more and more inviting. He changed into a pair of boxer shorts- his usual bedtime apperal- and dropped down into his bed. Softly, he closed his eyes, attempting to picture himself happy in his own life. However, the task seemed impossible, so he let his imagination succumb to the wonderous worlds of fiction he loved so much and drifted off to sleep.