Another random short piece. No specific purpose in mind, just felt like writing it! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, nor the hit musical RENT. (Is that how you're supposed to write it?)

"Huh? Wha…?"

A semiconscious Mac murmured in his bewilderment, struggling to open a pair of bleary eyeballs. The alarm clock next to his bed told him that it was a little before seven o'clock in large, blaring red numerals.

So just who exactly was playing their music at this ungodly hour?

The drowsy eight-year-old rolled onto his back and furrowed his brow, fervently trying to recognize the tune drifting in from outside his room in his foggy state of mind. For a few moments, Mac just lay there like a slug, drawing a complete blank on what it could possibly be.

Unable to figure out what is was, that is, until he heard an all-too-familiar voice belting out the lyrics of the particular tune.

"…Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes…"

As soon as the raucous off-key notes assaulted his eardrums, the child violently jolted in surprise.

"What the…" he grumbled miserably, while the caterwauling outside continued.

"…Five hundred twenty five thousand moments, oh dear…..five hundred, twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes…"

It took the boy a few seconds to fully realize that the ruckus had actually gotten progressively louder with each passing seond. As soon as comprehension hit him like a thunderbolt, Mac elicited a loud squeak in horror, instinctively burrowing under what little cover his sheets could provide.

"Oh please, don't have her do what I think she's gonna do…" He muttered fervently, praying that God would have mercy on his little soul and prevent what was about to happen.

"HOW DO YOU MEASURE, MEASURE A YEAR?" Frances "Frankie" Foster belted out at the top of her lungs as she kicked open the door and gleefully bounded into the child's room, a ridiculously goofy smile plastered across her features as her computer speakers boomed show tunes from across the hallway.

"Oh no!" Mac squealed pitifully, curling up into a little ball of condensed misery. Quickly spotting the misshapen lump adorning the mattress, Frankie only let loose with a carefree giggle as she skipped across the room, nightgown swirling about her as she pranced about impishly.

"In daylight, in sunsets, in midnights and cups of coffee…." She continued with a fiendish smirk, tossing the bed sheets aside one one deft jerking movement to reveal her distraught little brother.

"Ackpth! No! No!" Mac whimpered, trying to roll up and escape the blast of cold air that assaulted his little body. "Stoppit! Please, no!"

"…In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife…" the redhead just continued, smiling deviously as she shook the child playfully.

"S-s-stop! F-F-Frankie, qu-quit it!" the eight-year-old continued to plead as she rapidly increased the pace of her merciless shaking, her grin growing more twisted with every line more that she crooned.

"Five thousand, twenty-five hundred six hundred minutes…how do you measure, measure a year…." Frankie yodeled, peering in the eyes of the cranky little boy with a diabolically playful smirk.

"No…." Mac begged feebly once more.

"How about looooooooooooove!" she sang uproariously, sweeping the boy up into her arms with one deft movement. Mac yelped and frantically reached out in a last-ditch effort to anchor himself to his mattress, but it took less than a moment before he found himself tightly wrapped in a crushing bear hug.

"Ack! No! No! No! Frankie, no! Frankie, no! Put me down! Down! Down!" he began to protest frantically, struggling wildly to escape her tenaciously loving hold.

"How about loooooooooooove!" the self-proclaimed Broadway starlet only continued with a laugh, now twirling about in comic resemblance to a ballerina dancer, only greatly increasing the discomfort of the still not fully conscious eight-year-old.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Nooo!" Mac wailed, doubling his efforts to burst free from the nightmarishly affectionate embrace the redhead held him in. "Stoppit! I'm gonna be sick! I'm gonna-"

"How about looooooove!" Frankie only bellowed as loud as she could, spinning over to the window.

"Oh, don't tell me that you're gonna-" the boy pleaded, seeing where they were. Still continuing her song, Frankie only smiled as she yanked open the curtains.

"AUGH!" he squealed in shock as the golden rays of sunlight flooded into the room, soaking the pair in its warmth. Frankie squeaked with delight as she was bathed in the blazing gleam. Mac, on the other hand…

"Bright! Too bright! It BURNS!" the still drowsy eight-year-old lamented as he was blinded by the overwhelming brightness, clamping his eyelids shut and reversing his course of action, choosing to instinctively bury his head into the still-caterwauling caretaker's shoulder.

"Measure in love….seasons of looooove…." Frankie sang a little softer this time,her brief song-and-dance routine coming to an abrupt halt as she burst out laughing at the ridiculous sight the miserable child cut.

"Ugh…" Mac moaned, still struggling feebly to unsuccessfully escape the overwhelming luminescence which bathed him. "No more…please, no mor-EWWWW!"

He let loose with one last undignified yelp, squirming about wildly as Frankie drew him close to plant an extra sloppy wake-up kiss on his cheek.

"Gross! Gross! Quit it!I'm calling social services on you!" Mac threatened weakly, wiggling about unhappily as the redhead showed no mercy and held it for a full five seconds, finally removing her lips with an audible smacking noise.

"And a good morning to you too, pal!" Frankie only laughed merrily in reply, giving him one last squeeze before plopping him neatly back onto his mattress.

" See you downstairs at breakfaaaaast!" she cried in a singsong tone of voice, skipping back off into her room, laughing uproariously.

From where he lay limply sprawled out atop his bed, the eight-year-old emanated a soft whimper into his pillow, still having yet to become fully alert, his wake-up call having disorientated him more than anything.

"I hate morning people…" Mac blurted out with an irritable grunt. "I really do..."

"Well, it could've been a lot worse, y'know." A familiar voice piped suddenly piped up, interrupting the boy's lament.

"Oh, really? Just how, Bloo?" Mac groaned, not even bothering to look up and face in the direction of the doorway. Bloo, who had no doubt been attracted to the scene by the raucous commotion., only grinned fiendishly as he tried to bite back an audible snigger.

"At least she didn't play her "Riverdance" soundtrack this morning…" the little blob chortled, unsuccessfully stifling a devious laugh. The child glanced up and shot him a spiteful glance.

"Oh, shut up."

The End

Ugh, no need to tell me that Broadway show tunes don't exactly belong in the punk rock genre, I know.

As many of you may know, Frankie was singing the song "Season's of Love" from the musical RENT. Never saw it? Then that's not a problem at all, because neither have I. I've really only heard this one song, but it just got stuck in my head so badly, it accidentally happened while I was in a mood to write, and thus you find the random piece you have just read. Nothing special, just something I wrote while a little bit bored.

Thanks for dealing with my shenanigans! Please review, I appreciate any feedback!