Lola Loud stirred in her sleep, feeling the warmth of the sun's rays on her skin. The gentle glow filtered through the window, casting a soft orange hue on the walls of her room. As she slowly opened her eyes, she felt a sense of calm and tranquility wash over her. She couldn't quite remember the details of the dream she had just had, but she knew it was a good one.
Stretching out her limbs, she basked in the warmth of the sun and listened to the sounds of birds chirping outside. It was a beautiful Saturday morning, and she had no plans but to enjoy it to the fullest. She relished in the peace and quiet, feeling completely at ease in her own skin.
Outside the window, the town of Royal Woods came slowly and languidly awake like a cat. The laughter of playing children rang through the streets and lawn sprinklers cut on with a shushing sound, spraying browning grass with life giving water. People walked dogs, cars passed lazily in the street with no particular place to go, and the trees up and down Franklin Avenue rustled in the warm Lola, it was a moment of pure bliss, a moment to appreciate the simple things in life. She took a deep breath, feeling grateful for the warmth of the sun, the beauty of the day, and the sense of calm that enveloped her.
As Lola lay there in the warmth of the morning sun, she felt a sense of contentment wash over her. But as she slowly began to stir, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment as the details of her dream began to slip away from her. She closed her eyes and tried to grasp onto the fleeting memories, but they were like sand slipping through her fingers.
Then, like a bolt of lightning, the image of the mysterious, shadow shrouded man flooded her mind. She could see him clearly now, even though she couldn't quite make out his face. He had been there with her, in the dream, and she had felt an overwhelming sense of love and connection.
She lay there for a moment longer, lost in the memory of the dream and the feelings it had evoked. The warmth of the sun on her skin was no longer enough to comfort her, as she longed to return to the dream world and the arms of her shadowy lover.
Lola's mind raced as she tried to recall the mysterious man from her dream. She furrowed her brow and concentrated hard, trying to remember any distinguishing features or hints about his identity. But the more she tried to grasp onto the memory, the more it slipped away like sand through her fingers.
Her heart sank as she realized she couldn't remember anything about him other than the way he made her feel. She felt a sense of longing and sadness wash over her, like something precious had been lost and she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.
Lola let out a frustrated sigh and buried her face in her pillow. She wished she could go back to that dream, to that moment when everything felt perfect and whole. But now it was gone, leaving her with an unshakeable sense of melancholy.
Lola sat up in her bed, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She looked around her familiar bedroom, but something felt off. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was an inexplicable sense of things being different and not quite right. The sun still shone through the window, casting a warm glow on her skin, but it didn't feel as welcoming as it had moments before.
Lola furrowed her brows, trying to shake off the feeling. She got out of bed and stretched, feeling the muscles in her body loosen up. As she walked towards the window, she looked out and saw the same familiar view of her neighborhood, but it too seemed to be lacking the usual charm.
She shook her head, trying to clear her mind, but the sense of unease persisted. Lola couldn't understand what was happening, but she knew she needed to figure it out. She took a deep breath and tried to focus her thoughts, determined to get to the bottom of this strange feeling.
All at once, it hit her. Anthony. She had dreamed of Anthony. The father of hers and Lana's babies, the lives growing even now in their wombs. For some reason the memory of him was slightly hazy and fuzzy around the edges.
Huh.
Weird.
Lola's gaze drifted over to her sister's bed, where Lana lay cocooned in blankets with dump truck designs. She couldn't shake off the feeling that something was different, something wasn't right. She studied Lana's peaceful face for a moment, searching for any signs of what could be causing her unease. But as she watched Lana's steady breathing, Lola couldn't quite put her finger on what was wrong.
Her thoughts drifted back to the dream, the one she couldn't quite remember. She tried to grasp onto any shred of memory she could find, but it was like trying to hold onto sand slipping through her fingers.
Lola sighed and rubbed her eyes, hoping that the feeling of disquiet would pass. But as she lay there, still and quiet, she couldn't shake off the nagging sense that something was amiss.
Lana's eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the morning light that filters through the window. She stretched her arms and legs, feeling the softness of her blankets swaddling her. A contented smile curls her lips as she hears Lola stirring in her bed.
Turning her head, Lana saw Lola's form sitting up, looking deep in thought. She grins and says, "Hey, sleepyhead. Good morning."
Lana's voice is groggy and sweet, carrying the peacefulness of a restful sleep. Her eyes crinkle at the corners as she beams at Lola, still feeling the warmth of her bed seeping through her body. Her messy hair falls in tangles around her face, but she doesn't seem to care.
She pulls herself up into a seated position, her movements languid and graceful. Lana's eyes shift towards Lola's face, noticing the look of frustration and sadness that clouds her features. Concern flickers across her face as she asks, "What's wrong, Lo? Did you have a bad dream?"
Lola frowns as she tries to recall the dream, but the more she tries, the more it slips away from her grasp. Finally, she sighs and shakes her head. "I don't know," she says with a shrug. "But I must have had one, right?"
With that, she throws off the cozy blankets and stands up, stretching her arms above her head. As she does, the morning light streams through the window, casting a warm glow over her form. Her pink toenails peek out from beneath the hem of her pajama pants, and she runs a hand through her messy blonde hair, trying to tame it.
As she moves to her closet to pick out an outfit for the day, Lola glances back at Lana and sighs inwardly. Maybe a good cup of coffee will help her feel more like herself.
Lola scans her closet, squinting her eyes as if trying to find something specific, but it's clear she's struggling to make a decision. She pulls out a few shirts and dresses, holding them up to herself in the mirror and then placing them back on their hangers with a sigh. Meanwhile, Lana remains seated in her bed, lazily stretching her arms above her head and letting out a deep yawn. She rubs her eyes and then runs her hands through her messy hair, trying to gather the energy to start the day. Despite Lola's movements and murmurs, Lana remains oblivious to her sister's presence, lost in her own sleepy world.
Lola turns her head slightly towards the direction of Lana's bed and asks, "Hey Lana, should I wear my pink dress or my jean shorts and a tank top?" She waits for a moment, but there is no response. She turns her head slightly more towards the bed, but still does not look directly at Lana.
"Lana?" she calls out again, a hint of confusion creeping into her voice. Still, there is no response.
"Lana, are you okay?" Lola asks, now fully concerned.
"Huh? What's going on?" Lana mumbles, still groggy from sleep. Lola breathes a sigh of relief. That nightmare - or the still needling sense of something being wrong - must have really gotten to her.
Lola's frustration grows as Lana continues to doze off, her voice starting to sound annoyed. "I need your help and you're playing peekaboo with the sandman," she says, still not turning around to face her sister.
Lana's voice is groggy and slightly raspy, her words punctuated by stifled yawns. Her hair is wild and unkempt, falling in messy tangles around her face. As she speaks, she rubs her swollen belly absentmindedly. Lola hears the exhaustion in her sister's voice and can almost feel it emanating from her body.
Meanwhile, Lola's eyes scan the closet in front of her, evaluating the clothes she has to choose from. She sees the pink dress, hanging perfectly pressed and wrinkle-free, and the jean shorts and tank top, crumpled haphazardly on a shelf. She mentally debates the pros and cons of each outfit, her mind racing with possibilities.
"I had a late night," Lana said, "watching monster truck videos on YouTube."
Despite her frustration, Lola can't help but feel a twinge of concern for her sister's well-being. She knows how hard it is to get a good night's sleep, especially when pregnant. She doesn't turn to face Lana, but she acknowledges her sister's explanation with a small nod.
"What was the question? Lana asked again.
"Which should I wear?" Lola asked. "The pink -"
"Oh, yeah," Lana said. She smacked her dry lips together and rubbed the back of her neck. Her mind was muddled and forming thoughts was hard. "Uh…I dunno. The dress. It makes your butt look good."
Lana's joke elicits a genuine laugh from Lola, her lips curving into a small smile. She can hear the sound of her sister's voice behind her, and it brings her a sense of comfort and familiarity. With a small shake of her head, Lola reaches out for the pink dress, her fingers brushing against the soft fabric. She holds it up to her body, examining herself in the mirror on the closet door. Even though she's not looking at Lana directly, she can feel her sister's presence behind her, and it's enough to make her feel at ease. The warm sun rays coming in from the window hit her face, making her squint a little, and she can feel the warmth on her skin. She decides to wear the dress and turns around to thank Lana, but she's surprised to find her sister still seated on the bed, her eyes closed and her head tilted back. It's clear that Lana has dozed off again, and Lola can't help but let out a small chuckle. She shakes her head once more and heads to the bathroom to get ready for the day.
Lola steps lightly down the hallway, her bare feet making a soft padding sound against the plush carpet. The sunlight pours in through the windows at the end of the hall, casting a warm golden glow on the walls and illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. As she walks, she takes in the stillness of the house. The silence seems to amplify the sound of her own breathing and the rustling of the fabric of her dress as she moves. She reaches the bathroom door and pushes it open, revealing the bright, white tiles and the gleaming porcelain of the sink and toilet. The room is filled with the scent of lavender from the soap and air freshener.
Lola put on her dress and, standing at the sink, began to put on her make up. She was just putting on some eyeliner when a loud screech rent the silence, a sound of pure horror and anguish.
Lana.
Heart racing, Lola ran back to the bedroom and found Lana standing between their beds, staring down at her stomach with a look of horror on her face. "What?" Lola asked. "What?"
"My baby!"
"What?"
"MY STOMACH!"
Lola looked and realized with a sinking heart that Lana's stomach was no longer chubby and full of child. It was flat as though she were no longer pregnant. Lola looked at her own stomach, and Jesus Christ, it was the same. Her stomach had recently been swollen and plump but now it was back to normal. Her eyes widened and her pink mouth fell open in a silent scream. Lana was hyperventilating and muttering about a miscarriage, and Lola snapped back to reality, her mind racing and her heart throbbing like an abcessed tooth. She grabbed Lana's arms. "No," she said. "That's not it. We didn't both miscarry at the same time. If we did, there would be blood. A lot of blood. But there isn't."
And there wasn't. Not one single drop. Her mind whirled and her confusion deepened. She had no idea what was going on here, but she was sure that it wasn't that.
Everyone else, drawn by Lana's screams, crowded around the open bedroom door. Mom, Dad, Lynn, and Lincoln. "What's wrong?"Leni asked.
Lana sobbed something about her baby and Ant, and Lola just ran her fingers through her hair, wracking her brain for an explanation for what was going on.
When Lynn spoke, Lola blinked in confusion.
"Who's Ant?"
They were all looking at her and Lana as though they were crazy. "Anthony," Lola said. "You know…the father of our children?"
"Children?" Luan asked and raised an eyebrow.
"You need to go back to sleep," Lucy said, "you're not making any sense."
"Anthony," Lola repeated, a touch of hysteria creeping into her voice. Why didn't they remember him? Why were they acting like he didn't exist? She remembered the dream she had had and how for a second there, she couldn't really remember Ant. She could, but the image was fuzzy, like a vision glimpsed under water.
Just then, Lisa appeared with the others, and Lola realized that the bespecitcled little genius had not hitherto been present. Dressed in a pair of green pajams - long pants and long button up shirt with a stylized L monogrammed on the left breast - her clothes were rumpled and her messy brown hair was tangled and knotted. She usually slept with her hair up, but sometimes she sat up at her computer for hours on end, and fell into bed so exhausted that she would completely forget. At once, Lola noticed the expression on her face. She was drawn and ashen and her eyes were wide and staring, putting Lola in mind of a shellshocked veteran returning from the front. It was clear that there was nothing seriously wrong.
She shuffled over to Lola's bed and sank limply onto the edge, her arms slack and her eyes glistening with moisture. "Lise?" Lola asked worriedly. Lana dropped onto her own bed, curled up on her side, and hugged herself. For a second, Lola was torn between her sisters, but eventually chose to go to Lisa, as she had already snow what she could to console Lana.
It was only then that Lola realized something.
Just the day before, Lisa had also been big swole with Anthony's love child. In fact, her belly was beginning to get so big that she had to waddle like a penguin. It was actually kind of cute. She was so small that a good 90 percent of her total surface area was baby. Now, however, her stomach, like Lana's and her own, was flat, seemingly deflated and sad, like a birthday balloon long after the party has ended and all the happy guests had gone home. She felt a twinge of loss in her own stomach, and realized for the first time that she had the sensation of being empty, as though there were a gaping, hollow spot in the middle of her body where hers and Anthony's love child had so recently been.
"I don't understand it," Lisa was mummering through numb lips. "I just don't,"
Lola sighed. "I don't either," she said, "but we have to get to the bottom of this." She looked between her two morose sisters and sighed. "Come on, we could all use a cup of coffee."
Slowly and with great pain and effort, Lola got the other two on their feet and led them downstairs like a couple of catatonics. The others were upstairs getting ready, using the bathroom and stomping around like a herd of elephants, so the first floor was still dim and empty. Lola made sure Lisa and Lana were seated, then went into the kitchen to brew them all a pot of coffee. Standing at the counter and listening to the pot rattle, she ran her fingers through her hair and tried to keep her composure. Somehow she had emerged from this as the only one who hadn't broken down. Lisa and Lana were both shook to the core and she had to be strong for them. She needed to snap them out of it because she desperately needed their help to figure out what the hell was going on here.
Taking three mugs down from the overhead cabinet above the sink, she carried them into the dining room and sat one each in front of Lisa, Lana, and an empty spot. She made sure that both sisters got their favorite: Lana's had a dump truck on it and Lisa's had a picture of a wild-haired Einstien sticking out his tongue. "Alright," Lola said, more to herself than to the others, "coffee's on the way."
When the coffee was done, she brought the pot into the dining room, poured some into all three mugs, and then returned the pot to the coffee maker. She made Lana and Lisa drink, and slowly, the warm liquid spread through them and melted the ice in their souls. "What happened?" Lola asked Lisa. Lisa was the genius of the bunch, and if anyone knew anything, it would be her.
Lisa clutched her mug in both hands like a little girl trying to warm herself on a cold day with coca. "I-I don't know," she said after a moment of deep thought. "I seem to…" she trailed off and knitted her brow heavily as if in great concentration.
"What?" Lana asked, coming alive. "What is it?"
Lisa tilted her head to one side and seemed to think really hard. So hard, in fact, that a hitherto unknown vein in her forehead began to pulse and throb like a fat worm. "What, damn it?" Lana spat and slammed her plam down onto the table. "What the hell is going on here?"
The grease monkey stood and leaned over the table like a particularly zealous lawyer cross examining a lying defendant, and Lola put a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Take it easy, Lana," she said.
"No," Lana snapped, "my baby is gone and I want answers. I want to know what's going on here." Her face screwed up in misery and tears flowed openly from her glass, red rimmed eyes. "I want my baby back." She sank back into the chair in a miserable heap and began to sob. Lola pulled her into a loving embrace and hugged her close, rocking her back and forth, stroking her hair, and shushing her.
She turned to Lisa. Like Lana, Lola was broken and wanted answers, wanted some way of reversing whatever it was that had happened. She realized, however, that Lisa was suffering too. She was also pregnant by Anthony and was no doubt looking forward to bearing their love child one day. She had to be just as scared, hurt, confused, and shaken as Lola and Lana. Lola wanted to be as gentle with her as possible, but she also needed to be firm. "What do you remember, Lisa? What happened? Did you do something?"
At length, Lisa drew a deep, shoulder shaking sigh and let it out in a rush. She slumped against the back of her chair and pursed her lips in thought. "I'm not sure," Lisa said, "but I think that something happened. I-I remember I working on something…some kind of-of-of serum for something and…" she trailed off, crease her brown so hard in thought that deep wrinkles appeared on her otherwise smooth - save for pimples - forehead.
"God, Lisa, what did you do?" Lola moaned.
"Nothing," Lisa snapped. She jumped to her feet and began to pace nervously back and forth like a condemned woman pleading her case. "There was something that was affecting all of us…a virus or something. I think. I think. Whatever it was, I needed to fix it and you were all onboard." She faltered when she said that because to be perfectly honest, she couldn't remember if they were all onboard or not. Did they even know that something was amiss? Or was she working on this antidote, or whatever it was, in secret? She furrowed her brow even more, as if by doing so she could work free a thought or memory stuck to the anterior wall of her mind, but if thoughts and memories there were, none came forth into the revealing light of revelation.
Had any of that actually happened? Or was it all some kind of dream? Lisa was a very intelligent girl, but was aided in her eternal quest for knowledge by the fact that her memory was photographic. She could read complicated mathematical equations one time, then close her eyes and refer back to them like a sneaky college kid with a hand written cheat sheet. Her memories were crystal clear, in high def 4D, all the way back to her earliest years. In fact, she was almost certain that if she strained hard enough, she could remember being born. Only the visions in her head, the ones that led her to conclude that she had been working on some kind of serum and had accidentally caused all of this mess and miserty in the first place, were dim and hazy, like scenes glimpsed underwater. They lacked the crispness and clarity of all of her other memories.
Actually, come to think of it, all of her memories were more or less like that.
Her heart bounced into her throat with a sudden start, and she frantically flipped through the rolodex of memories in her mind. All of them had that dreamy, haze like quality, and God as her witness, there weren't as many as there used to be. In fact, she could very vaguely recall her long term memories, but not her short term ones. When she tried to conjure up memories of what she had done just the day before, she was stopped by an inpenerterable wall of complete and immovable blackness. Her heart began to beat with fear and she strained so hard to think that she was certain that she tore a muscle.
The more she tried to remember, however, the blacker her mind became and the further away the memories beyond the veil receded. This…this was impossible. She had an excellent memory. Why couldn't she remember what happened yesterday? In fact, why couldn't she even remember getting into bed the previous night?
She thought back to the images that swirled through her mind, the ones of…whatever happened. And now the more she prodded her mind, like a finger to an open sore, the more certain she became that something had, in fact, happened.
But why?
And why in the name of God couldn't she remember?
"Is there any way we can find out what's going on?" Lola asked at last. Lana had fallen silent. She sat with her head bowed and her shoulders slumped in misery and defeat. She stared down at the table with watery, tearful eyes and her nostrils lightly flared as she drew in shallow sips of air. She had that thousand yard stare again, and Lola was beginning to worry about her. It took everything she had in her body to keep from breaking down as well, but doing that wouldn't help their situation. In fact, it would only make things infinitely worse. If there was a way that they could some how find out what had happened, they could fix it. Lola had no idea how that would work, that wasn't her purview, but they had Lisa on her side, and Lisa could do anything. "There has to be some way, right?"
Lisa drew a heavy sigh and brushed her fingers through her messy brown hair. "I don't know," she said at lenght. "I wouldn't even know where to start."
Just then, everyone else came into the dining room in a big group. There was Lily, Lori, Lynn, and Mom and Dad. Lola watched them as they passed, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion. They all went into the kitchen to find something to eat for breakfast, and Lola turned to Lisa, who was thoughtfully stroking her chin and staring off into space. "Lise?" she asked to get the little genius's attention.
Lisa went on stroking her chin, apparently not having heard. "Lise?" Lola asked again, firmer this time.
Snapping out of her fog, Lisa turned her head and looked up at Lola. "Yes?" she asked.
"Did you…notice anything weird about the fam just now?"
For a second, Lisa favored her with a blank stare, then slowly shook her head. "No, but I wasn't paying attention. What is it?"
Before Lola could reply, Mom and Dad came in from the kitchen, laughing and horseplaying like a couple of kids. Lisa saw at once that Lola was right, that there was indeed something different about them. At first, it was a general impression rather than a speciific observation, but after a moment, Lisa realized with something like sinking dread just what exactly was different.
Her parents…they were younger.
Much younger.
Mom and Dad were forty-one and forty-two respectively, and certainly looked it. Right now, however, the man and woman before her were at least twenty years younger. Mom was thinner, the lines around her eyes and the corners of her mouth gone. Dad's hairline was no longer receding, and his features weren't as sharp, tempered as they were with, perhaps, a thin and almost imperceptable layer of baby fat. Lana roused from her stupor and looked as well, and her, Lisa, and Lola all dropped their jaws at once. Mom and Dad acted like a couple of kids, and looked like them too.
Out of nowhere, Lucy popped up next to Lola and just stood there, leaning slightly forward with her hands clasped behind her back. Lola started and leaned back, her spine tingling at the intensity of her sister's gaze. She couldn't see her eyes, but she could feel them boring into her from behind those black bangs. Lola flicked her eyes up and down the creepy little goth's body. Normally, she wore a black dress over leggings and a long sleeve shirt with black and white stripes, but today, she wore black pants and a T-shirt with METALLICA across the chest. Beneath was a stylized design of lightning and an electric chair.
Lola's brow furrowed.
She wasn't all that much up on her dad rock, but she kind of knew who Metallica was and knew for a fact that Lucy didn't like that kind of music. She was into that psycho bipolar emo shit about wanting to feel pain instead of nothing at all. Metallica was really heavy and stuff, right? She could see Lucy liking them but for whatever reason, she didn't. In fact, Lola specifically remembered her at points talking down about eighties and nineties metal. That she was wearing this shirt, then, was almost as strange as Mom and Dad not being middle age was.
"Can I help you?" Lola asked at length.
A big, toothy smile slowly spread across Lucy's face, and Lola was reminded of that shark from Finding Nemo. If she didn't know any better, she would say that Lucy was about to lean the rest of the way in and snap her head off in a single bite. And honestly, with the way today was already shaping up to be, Lola couldn't really say that she did know any better. "Okay, you're extra creepy now," she said. "Get away from me."
Lucy began to breathe heavily, hissing through her teeth, and having had enough - actually scared now - Lola shoved her away. "Fuck off, Dracula," she said.
"I can smell your breath," Lucy whispered.
Lola blinked.
Breaking out in evil and malicious laughter, Lucy turned around and walked away, pressing her hands to her stomach as if to keep it from splitting open. Oh, so she thought that shit was funny, did she? She had always had a twisted sense of humor but this just took the cake. Lola, Lisa, and Lana all looked at each other. "What the fuck was that?" Lana asked, a hint of worry in her voice.
Lola took a deep, steadying breath through her nose and let it out in a rush. "I don't know," she said, "but whatever happened, it's…big. We need to find out what the hell's happening like five minutes ago."
Lisa sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "You're right," she said, "come on, let's go."
The three of them got up, bringing their coffee with them, and climbed the stairs to Lisa's room. Thankfully, her laboratory had not changed. It was filled with the same potions, chemicals, and machiery that it always had been, at least they thought. Lisa couldn't remember much and neither could Lola or Lana. All three of them could remember Anthony, but their memories were hazy and fuzzy like old school TV static. Lola tried to call up an image of him in her mind's eye, and was bitterly disappointed to find that the picture was not clear. His face was a brown smeer, like an expressionist watercolor, and though she could remember the way he made her feel, she couldn't recall the warm comfort and safety that she no doubt found in his arms. A gutted feeling opened up in the pit of her stomach, and her chest ached so badly that she felt like she was going to keel over and die. A rush of hot tears welled up in her eyes and she blinked them away, the world becoming just as watery and indisctinct as her memories of her lost love.
Sadness washed over her, and she sank into a straight back chair with a sigh of defeat. Thus far she had been so focused on taking care of Lana and Lisa that she had barely had time to fully grasp and process the vast enormity of her own emotions. They began to intrude on her now, but she fought her best to prevent them from creeping in. If she allowed that to happen, she realized, she would go to pieces, probably far, far worse than Lisa and Lana had. She needed to be strong for them…but also for herself. She wanted to get to the bottom of this and, far more importantly, to find a way to reverse whatever had happened. She wouldn't be able to do that if she was hugging her knees and rocking in a corner somewhere.
"How are we going to do this?" she asked Lisa, who was now seated in the big leather rolling chair before a bank of computer monitors.
Lisa pursed her lips tightly, turning them into a white, bloodless slash, and stared at the monitor, her fingers hooked and poised over the keyboard. The glow of the screen skimmed the surface of her glasses like an image reflected on a still mountain pond, and her nostrils flared slightly as she breathed evenly through her nose, trying, perhaps, to keep her composure much like Lola was. Lisa's throat bobbed up and down as she swallowed. "I'm not sure, but I have an idea. It'll be very complicated, however. I ask that you and Lana leave me for a while. Do your best to stay calm and be careful with what you say or how you act. I have come to believe that we have either slid into an alternate reality, or that our own reality has been greatly altered by whatever it was that happened. In a word, try to roll with the punches."
Lola nodded. "Okay."
She and Lana left the room. "I don't get how this could happen," Lana said. "I just…it doesn't make any sense."
She was so busy talking that she opened Lucy and Lynn's door instead of their own. Inside, Lucy was sitting Indian style on the floor, a plastic ring and wrestling action figures scattered around like the fallen dead on a Civil War battlefield. She held two figures in her hands and slammed them together. "Bah gawd, he's broken in half!" she cried. Then: "This is the most explosive night in the history of our sport!"
Lana and Lola blinked. Before Lana could stop herself, she belted out, "What the fuck? You like wrestling now?"
Spinning around to face them and clutching her action figures to her chest like Gollum with his precious ring, Lucy hissed. "Get out of here. And tell no one."
Shaking her head, Lana closed the door. "I don't know what fucking timeline we're in, but I really, really don't like it."
Ronnie Anne groggily awakens to the blaring sound of her alarm clock, which is buried under a pile of clothes on her cluttered nightstand. She rubs her crusty eyes and stretches her plump arms before swinging her legs over the edge of her bed. Her room is dark and stuffy, and the stench of stale food mixed with sweat and dirty laundry assaults her senses. She glances down at her outfit - a pair of shorts and a stained white tank top, both of which are a size too small for her. She slides her feet into her dirty socks and shuffles over to the bathroom, scratching her butt absentmindedly. As she walks, she steps on a plate of old food that had fallen from her bed the night before, letting out a loud groan of annoyance. Her surroundings are just as messy as her room - discarded clothes litter the hallway, and the bathroom counter is cluttered with half-empty bottles of lotion and old makeup. She finally reaches the toilet and relieves herself with a sigh of relief, still half-asleep and unaware of the state of her surroundings.
As Ronnie Anne walks past Ramona's room, she notices the pungent odor emanating from it. The door is slightly ajar, revealing a messier room than Ronnie Anne's own. The piles of clothes on Ramona's bed are so high that she is almost invisible, and the sheets are crumpled and stained. There are empty food wrappers and soda cans scattered all over the floor, and the overflowing trash can is spilling onto the already dirty carpet.
Ronnie Anne catches a glimpse of Ramona sleeping on the pile of clothes. Her hair is disheveled and greasy, and she has an uneven pigtails held in place with mismatched hair ties. Her bushy unibrow almost blends into her hairline, and her snaggle teeth are exposed as she drools on her pillow. Ronnie Anne wrinkles her nose at the sight. "You're a pig," she told her sister.
"Fuck you, bitch," Ramona said and raised a middle finger.
Ramona and Ronnie Anne were from East L.A. and had recently moved to Royal Woods. Both were in the alternative school for bad kids because they were both theives, bullies, and all around assholes who didn't play well with others. Back in East Los, both of them ran with gang members, but Ramona was far more heavily involved than Ronnie Anne was. Given her fearsome reputation, her god awful looks, and the stench of her unwashed crack, no one wanted to date her and she was still a virgin.
Ramona groaned as she lifted herself off the pile of dirty clothes, kicking her way through the thick layer of trash on the floor. The air in her room was thick with the stench of sweat and rotting food. As she stumbled towards the door, she muttered a string of curses under her breath.
Finally reaching the hallway, Ramona made her way towards the bathroom. Her hair was a tangled mess and uneven pigtails hung in her eyes. She rubbed her eyes, trying to clear her vision, and peered down at her stained tank top and shorts.
Upon arriving at the bathroom, Ramona stood in front of the toilet and considered taking a shower. But the sight of the bathtub filled with mold and grimy water made her change her mind. Instead, she lifted up her arms and applied a thick layer of deodorant.
Ramona glanced at her reflection in the mirror and licked her plaque-covered teeth. Deciding they were good enough, she bypassed the toothbrush and headed to the kitchen for breakfast.
The kitchen was a mess of dirty dishes, empty soda cans, and rotting food. Ramona rummaged through the fridge, looking for something to eat. She grabbed a box of stale cereal and poured it into a bowl, ignoring the clumps and bits of mold.
As she ate, Ramona picked at the acne on her face, leaving small red marks in its wake. Her bushy unibrow twitched as she frowned at the mess around her.
Finally finishing her breakfast, Ramona tossed the bowl into the pile of dishes in the sink and headed back to her room. She stepped over piles of clothes, books, and other debris as she made her way to her bed, where she collapsed onto the pile of dirty clothes.
As she lay there, Ramona rubbed her hands over her face and yawned, feeling a sense of lethargy creeping over her. The sounds of the world outside her room were muffled, and the only thing she could smell was the stench of her own body odor.
She sighed heavily, knowing that this was just another day in her messy, chaotic life. But for now, she was content to stay where she was, cocooned in her own filth and disarray.
Ronnie Anne came in then and interrupted. "There's someone moving into that house down the street."
"So?" Ramona asked.
"So I wanna see who it is."
"Grab your Hoverround and buzz on over, fatso," Ramona said.
"Fuck you, bitch," Ronnie Anne snapped. "Come on. Let's see who it is. Maybe they're rich and we can steal their trash."
Ramona hummed. Rich people did have nice trash. They threw out perfectly good shit all the time. Once, she found a whole computer on the curb and carried it home like a burglar with a TV set.
Sighing, Ramona got up. She shooed Ronnie Anne's big ass out and dressed in a pair of cut off jeans, a dirty pink tank top, and a pair of dirty dollar store sandals. She met Ronnie Anne in the dumpy living room and together they went outside. The sun was high and bright and the day was warm with a slight breeze. As they walked, Ronnie Anne said. "I have a strange feeling. Like something isn't right."
"Probably those tacos you ate last night," Ramona said, "you had twenty of the fuckers."
"No I didn't," Ronnie Anne snapped. "I only had eighteen…and a half."
"Wow," Ramona said and rolled her eyes. "Don't starve yourself."
"Shut up," Ronnie Anne said. "I'm serious, I have the feeling that…" she trailed off as a big, wet fart broke from her ass.
"Told you," Ramona said.
Up ahead, a white and orange U-Haul was parked at the curb and a team of movers were carrying boxes to the house past 1216 Franklin Avenue. An old man lived there - Mr…Krause?...and recently died. A big family lived at 1216 but for some reason, Ramona had never seen them up close, just a bunch of distant figures in passing. They crossed to the other side of the street to get a better view. Ronnie Anne crossed her arms over her gut and Ramona slipped her hands into her back pockets, the feeling of their warmth on her butt turning her on. She really needed to get fucked. She hated being a virgin and if she thought of all the rejection and ignoring she got, it would make her kind of sad.
And when she got sad, she got mad.
Really mad.
She watched the movers for a while, then her draw dropped when she saw the most attractive man in the world come out of the house. He was roughly seventeen or so with dark, mahogany skin and short hair. His arms and chest were well defined and his dick made a yummy bulge in his tight jeans. Ramona's pussy instantly dampened and her nipples popped a girl boner so fast they made a booooooiiiiiing noise. "Holy fuck," she said. "You see that fucking Greek God over there?"
"I sure do," Ronnie Anne said and licked her lips hungrily. She placed her hands on her big stomach and bounced it as if to say get in my belly. Ramona followed her sister's line of sight and realized that she wasn't looking at the cute guy at all. Instead, she was checking out some little haired dork in the yard next door. "Ew," Ramona said and crinkled her nose. "Him? He's all weak and shit. Look at him, he reeks of bitch."
Ronnie Anne bit her bottom lip and nodded slowly to herself. "Just what mama needs."
"You're gross."
"You don't have much right to talk, Chainsaw Mouth. When's the last time a guy picked you, anyway?"
Ramona's face blushed an angry and embarrassed shade of red. "When's the last time one picked you without throwing out his back?"
"Remember Hector? That guy you liked back in East L.A.? He threw his back out all night long."
Ramona's fist clenched and for a moment she was almost certain that she would finally bust Ronnie Anne's fat nose, but instead she wheeled around and stormed off. Ronnie Anne stayed where she was, eye fucking Lincoln from across the street and rubbing her chubby stomach in an obscene and seductive manner. She licked her lips and thrust her hips back and forth as she imagined dominating him.
Oh, yeah, she really needed that.
Her stomach rumbled.
And breakfast.
Anthony Simmons had a heavy box clutched in his arms as he made his way up the porch steps of the new house. He was tall and muscular, with smooth dark skin and a confident stride. He had just turned seventeen a few weeks ago and was looking forward to starting over in this new house, even though it was a bit of a fixer-upper. His mother had been through a lot lately, but she was tough as nails and always managed to bounce back.
The previous house they had lived in was a beautiful two-story home in the suburbs. It had been their dream home, a place where they could finally settle down and make a life for themselves. But that dream was shattered in an instant when a massive explosion rocked the neighborhood. The blast was so powerful that it sent debris flying through the air for blocks around. Windows shattered, trees fell, and cars flipped over. The explosion was like something out of a Michael Bay movie.
Anthony could still remember the intense heat of the blast and the deafening roar that followed. The house was engulfed in flames within seconds, and he and his mother barely had time to escape. They ran through the burning wreckage, coughing and choking on the thick smoke that filled their lungs. It was a miracle they made it out alive.
They spent the next few weeks in a hotel room, trying to put their lives back together. Mom was beside herself with grief and worry, but Anthony stayed strong for her. He was determined to find them a new home, no matter what it took.
Finally, they found 1214 Franklin Avenue. It was a large two story house with a white picket fence and a neatly manicured lawn. The house was owned by an old man named Mr. Grouse, who had recently passed away of a heart attack in his easy chair. Anthony and his mother were able to buy the house for a fraction of its value, and they were grateful for the opportunity to start over.
As Anthony made his way into the house with the box, he could smell the musty scent of old furniture and dust. The house was empty, except for a few old pieces of furniture that Mr. Grouse had left behind. The living room was cramped and cluttered, with an old brown sofa and a coffee table covered in dust. The kitchen was small, with a dingy white refrigerator and a gas stove that looked like it hadn't been used in years.
Anthony set the box down on the kitchen table and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He knew there was a lot of work to be done to make the house livable, but he was up for the challenge. He walked into the living room and looked out the window at the quiet street outside. It was a hot summer day, and the sun beat down on the asphalt.
Anthony was determined to make the best of their situation. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but he was ready for whatever came their way. He turned back to the kitchen and began unpacking the box, ready to get to work on their new home.
Anthony Simmons carefully places the box he's carrying down on the floor of his new room, which has been freshly painted in a soft blue shade. The walls are bare, and the only furniture in the room is a twin-sized bed, a dresser, and a nightstand that was included with the house. He quickly opens the box and pulls out a framed picture of himself holding a basketball trophy, which he sets on the nightstand. Then he turns his attention to the rest of the contents of the box.
Inside, he finds a number of other trophies and medals, each one representing a different achievement in sports, academics, and other areas. There's a trophy for basketball, another for football, and still another for track and field. There are medals for spelling bees, science fairs, and debate competitions. And there are certificates of achievement for everything from perfect attendance to community service.
Anthony smiles to himself as he starts to unpack the rest of the box, carefully arranging each trophy and certificate on the dresser and nightstand. He's proud of his accomplishments, and he knows that his mother is too. She always told him that he could do anything he set his mind to, and he's worked hard to prove her right.
As he finishes unpacking, he takes a moment to look around the room. It's small and simple, but it's his, and that's what matters. He knows that there are bigger and better things out there, but for now, he's content to make the best of what he has. He has dreams of going to college, maybe even playing sports at a higher level, but for now, he's happy to be starting over in this new place.
With a final glance around the room, Anthony smiles and heads out into the rest of the house to help his mother with the rest of the move-in process. He knows that there will be challenges ahead, but he's ready to face them head-on, with the same determination and drive that have helped him succeed so far.