It’s Only a House

Today is my brother, N’s, 15th birthday, and to be honest I think I’ve been quite fair about it. Firstly I get up at an ungodly hour (well, 6:30) to sing him Happy Birthday and stuff with my family. I got him a DC Comics Character Encyclopedia, which won me: 1 (one) half hearted hug and four (4) teenaged ‘thank you’s. That was nice, I guess. Even if it was on the first day of my holidays.
Then he arrives at 5 pm with a band of ruffians who set dedicatedly to work on the one thing they can do well – destroying what was left of our dark, greenish living room. Oh well. I’m happy. This morning I read the end of New Moon and most of Eclipse, so I settle down upstairs to finish it. The Twilight Flu has got to me. Grrr… I swore to hate it! But I can’t…
Anyway, I end up turning up my relaxing music (Sigur Rós) up as high as possible to drown out the crazed warbles and raucous shouting of six pubescent boys watching Batman: The Dark Knight.
It’ll be worse when they start on the 3-disc edition of King Kong, featuring, and I quote: “The Eight Blunder of the World”.
Having moved away from the third episode in the absurdly gripping tale of Bella and her pet monsters, I turn on my computer, sharply avoid the internet (phew! I’m not quite sure why, but I think the Internet eats my time Munch munch yum yum) and shove in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. I finished the game for the nth time last Saturday, and I’m now doing that fun bit where you just walk around collecting as many beans as you can, to buy pumpkin pasties, to buy passwords, to find secret chambers, where you find more beans… the circle goes on. Having given up on Harry and his comrades’ search for Beanship, I wanted to go fly Buckbeak, but having completed four of the five levels of literally jumping through hoops, I ended up being beaten by a glitch for the tenth time and realise I’m parched.
SO I head downstairs, firstly to get a glass of water, and secondly to see them. This is something I’ve been meaning to do for a while, because I’ve been smelling ham in my room for about half an hour and I hate ham, so I wonder where that’s coming from.
They’re cooking for N. Awww... awwww…. ..aww. Aw….. AHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
OK, it wasn’t quite that bad.
Seriously, though, the floor is covered in water or something, there’s something red bubbling in a pan (blood, gore… tomatoes? Vampires must be getting to my brain) and I’m sure that spaghetti shouldn’t look like it’s been fried when there’s no frying pan to be seen. But whatever. I don’t care what they put in their bodies. Not until they start screaming. The really disturbing thing is that there is no ham. I get out as quick as I can.
Finally, as I am heading upstairs with a glass of water in my hand, I hear one of them say:
“Is that… burning?”
To which N’s best friend replies nonchalantly: “Don’t worry, it’s only a house.”

Merry Christmas All!

P.S. Keep an eye on your fifteen year old aspiring cooks.