My First Strike

I made my first strike of reckless, bones-risking stunts. Mature people like mum would kill me if she knows I’m doing risking actions. Good thing this topic never came up.

It’s Monday, the seventh of September. I’m not sure why I’m not going to school, its Monday, weird. I’m about to hunt the kitchen – my hobby, doing it when I’m bored – but an idea came up after I watched the music video of Break Away from Kelly Clarlkson (mind the spelling).

This seems like a very good time. Mum, dad and bro are not home, sis is, well, sis-styling in her room, she won’t even notice if I’ve burnt the house down. This is it, I left a note on my bed room door – call 911 if you heard a scream, don’t tell mum or I’ll kick your ass. I took my shoe and went out to the balcony. I’ve seen my dad did this, about 4 years ago. So, I made sure that my pants are still on and start hoping up against the pole, reaching for the roof.

I don’t know how but I made it – and surprisingly I didn’t hurt my pants – I’m. On. The. Top. I applauded to myself mentally, proud to be the second in the family who climb all the way to the house roof. I should’ve brought the camera, and the press! And then I remembered that cats usually do this. Wow, I have a lot to learn!

I know this is crazy but, I actually made moose and wolf sounds up there. It’s kindda neat and childish way, and I swear I just saw a cat escape in terror from this theatrical place. I remind myself, I’m just a few feet from the ground, and this is no Mount Everest. Wait, I can see Paris from here, Bonjue!!! Just Kidding!!! Ha ha, it never gets old…

I sat down for a moment, and rested my chin on my knees. Maybe if I have a chance, I can host a party up here. Wake Up, Jordan! The roof is already making cracking noise with a 51kg-innocent-and-sweet-girl-feeling-the-loneliness-of-life-(fine) or-evil-plans on it. The whole house will topple down if she invited her twin sister. Ok, I’m going way too far. I’m not that innocent, or sweet, maybe a little sweet, I make honey cookies for grandma every Sunday – does that count?

Why can I hear growling sound? I looked around to check and see if some super-flying-dog exists up here too. Oh wait, it’s my tummy. I climb down unwillingly. This time I didn’t go to the kitchen where my tummy leads me. I ignored it and went to sis’s room instead.

“You want to know what I did”
“No” Oh, please, she didn’t even glance up.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, get out,” she threw a pillow at me. Bad Sis!!! I’ll seek for revenge by calling help from The Super Flying Doggie (the latest, adorable, cute version).

I’ll call you when I do it again. XOXO