MEEP! MEEP! MEEP!

"God dammit! You sorry pile of shit! What the fuck is your Goddamn problem? Huh? Why the fuck do you torment me like this? You annoying mechanical beast from the depths of Hell itself! I will always rue the day I wasted fifteen dollars on you, you sorry, deafening, fit-inducing, mind-numbingly, annoying pile of garbage!
Always waking me up when I don't need to be awake! Where were you yesterday, when I slept until six in the evening? Huh?"

I proceeded to unplug the digital alarm clock from the wall, and open the window.

"Why? Why are you always pissing me off? No more. No more! No fucking more!"

I threw the clock out of the window landed in the street, proceeded to let itself get run over by a car, ultimately becoming a pile of spare parts.

"That takes care of that" I said rubbing my hands together. "Now, for food." I opened the door and went out into the hallway, and ran down the stairs. Skipping every third step or so, give or take. Went into the kitchen, and made myself a bowl of the manliest cereal ever: Cheerios. 'Why are they manly?' you ask. Because they have NO. FUCKING. FLAVOR. And only real men like me can enjoy them correctly. No sugar. No added ingredients, or other flavor-boosters.

Once I finished my cereal, I headed back upstairs, only to come face-to-face with my uncle , Ross. Here's the deal.

My parents are, or were, archeologists. A couple of years ago, they got a contract or something, from this big-time blueblood ancient artifact collector. They flew out to Guatemala, and set up their little digging camp or some shit. Stayed there for a few months, and went MIA. All while leaving me in the custody of my fucking, wait for it, "Uncle Gruncle". Yes. His parents, my grandparents, must've fucking hated him at birth. This is how I picture it. He pops out Grandma, she and Grandpa look at him, and say, "We already hate this fucker, so we're going to name him: 'Gruncle'."

He absolutely fucking hates it when I call him 'Uncle Gruncle', so he demands that I call him 'Uncle Ross', or else the fucker goes on a complete rampage. He's lived a good life, though. He was one of seven Valedictorians at his high school, went to law school for four years and became a lawyer. Then he met Aunt Melindora, and well, they got married. Uncle Ross quit his lawyering and Aunt Melindora is the CEO of some shower head company that no one's ever heard of. When Ross isn't making my life a living Hell, he's sleeping. When he's sleeping, Melindora is making me paint and garden and bake and go window shopping. When they're not around, I'm at school.

Continuing the story, I was going back upstairs to my room, and about half way there, I come face-to-face with Ross. "What were all'at noise boy? Yer gonna wake th' entire neighborhood wit' dat ruckus." Did I mention he has a sort of a speech impediment? "My alarm went off, so I went off on it." He just stared.

"Yeh. But dat don' 'splain th' broke up parts n' th' road."

"Oh. Well. I kinda, sorta, kinda sorta, maybe threw it out the window. Then it decided to let itself get run over by a car." He leaned closer. "Did Ah ever tell ha' what a f'ckin' dumbass yeh are?" By that point, I'd just about had enough of him. I opened my mouth to speak, but then Melindora came out of their bedroom and said,"Now Grunkie, the boy just overreacted a bit. That's all." Don't get me wrong, I love Melindora, but sometimes she pisses me off. "Those homosexual horses that he watches are probably just upsetting his nerves." Goddammit Melindora. If you paid any attention to my life at all, I'd probably like you better. And maybe I wouldn't spit in the cookie batter while you weren't looking.

"They're not horses, they're ponies. And watching and liking them doesn't make me gay. There are plenty of other straight guys that like the show. Now, it's Saturday, and I have stuff to do."

"What stuff? Masturbate t' yer so called ponies?"

"Fuck you Ross! I don't-

"WES! WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT LANGUAGE LIKE THAT?"

"Oh come the fuck on, Melindora! It's not my fault. Your beloved husband right there is a bad influence!"

"How dare you? You know he has a speech impediment! It's not his fault! You probably just mishear him! Anyway. Grunkie, I want you to go back to bed. Your doctor says it's not healthy for you to wake up, and then start yelling. Wes, I want you to go about your business.

"Thank you."

I walked into my room and closed my door. I strode over to my laptop, and started browsing on brony forums. "I love My Little Pony."

Just then, my phone went off. "Now who would be calling me at eight in the morning?" I checked my phone to see who it was. And who else should it be, but one of my ex-girlfriends. My most hated one at that. Kim. The reason I hate her is because she came up with a bullshit excuse to break up with me so she could date one of my friends. Here's what happened: I was teasing her sister because she meant to say "venomous", but she said "venonomous". So, I was like,"Wait, did you really just say 'venonomous'?" "Yeah." "Wow. You're just a little bit dumb, aren't you?" Sure it was a little mean, but I only meant to tease. But Captain Fantastic decided that was when she was going to come up with her bullshit excuse, and, I quote:"I can't go out with someone who makes fun of my sister." Yeah. Several problems with that: 1)I wasn't making fun of her, and you know it. 2)Your excuse is bullshit. 3)You're only doing this so you can go out with my friend.

Once I found out that was her reason, I've hated her ever since. Some people tell me I'm overreacting. I just say "fuck you".

So I'm contemplating whether I should pick up the phone or not. Here's what I'm thinking; I could ignore it because I hate her, but I might learn something useful.(Probably not.)

I pick up the phone.

"Wes! Where are you? Did you forget. There's marching band practice today! You were supposed to be here like, an hour ago! Where are you?"

"Um. At my house."

"Why?!?!"

"I forgot there was practice today. By the way. Why are you calling me?"

"Forester picked someone to call you."

"So, let me get this straight. Forester told you to call me, even though he, and the rest of the band know that I hate you?"

"Oh. Well. Maybe he didn't pick me and I might've. Volunteered without permission."

"You, 'volunteered without permission'."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Um. When are you going to get here?"

"Tell Forester I don't have a ride. Oh, and, just let me confirm; you volunteered without permission?"

"Yes."

"That's bullshit I'm hanging up!" And so, I hung up. After a while of browsing ponies, I got bored. "Hmm. I think some scrubs are about to get rekt on Call of Duty. And so, I went down to the basement, switched on the ol' Xbox 360, loaded up Black Ops II, and rekt sum scrubs.

Author's Note

Wow. Long-ass chapter. But there's more in store for Our Little Human.