So one day, my brother's at work. My dad's at work. There's a knock on my door.
"I was just cleaning your brother's room," my mom said. When you read my mom's words, you should be hearing them said with a heavy Yugoslav accent, with a ballet dancer's sense of dramatic flair for emphasis.
"Why were you cleaning his room? You know he doesn't want anyone snooping around his stuff," I said. "You shouldn't do that."
"I was just cleaning your brother's room," she said, by which she meant that she was searching his stuff. "He should clean it himself if he doesn't want me looking at his stuff."
"You'd be poking around anyway."
"No! I wouldn't do that! I was just cleaning!" And then her voice dropped to conspiratorial whisper. "And look what I found!" She held up a pill bottle. She had taken the cap off, and inside was a wide variety of pills.
Me: "Just cleaning, huh."
"Your brother is on drugs," she said, with utter conviction. "Do you know what they are?"
I took the bottle, dumped it out in my hand.
I shook my head, as if the news was grim. "The ones that say Excedrin?" I said "Those are Excedrin. The ones that say Advil? Those are Advil. These here, that say No-Doz? I'm pretty sure that those are No-Doz, and the ones that say Vivarin are probably Vivarin."
My mom seized one of the pills from my hand. "What is this, hmm? What is this Eh Se Be?"
"Extra Strength Bufferin? You should probably put these back where you got them."
Five minutes later, there was a knock at my door. It was my mom. She was holding a container of baby powder.
"I was just putting away the bottle of pills..."
Today's word count: 698 - on the pirate novel.
Deadbeef saw as much as heard Canbrach's order: "Fire."
A line of flame shot from the back of the launcher, and the rocket twisted toward the wall.
And then, with a roar, the floor went out from under his feet.