Chapter Three-World War Four Continues and something takes Haley’s fancy.
Haley woke the next morning to an irritating sight: light. It poured in through the gap in her blinds and slept on her bed beside her. Pulling the blanket up over her head was the only way to deter this intruder.
It seemed that lay-ins no longer existed in the Thomas residence. Adam stormed into Haley’s room, causing the door to fling against the wall behind, leaving yet another dent.
“Where is it?” he boomed, looming over Haley.
Haley shrugged. She heard the ‘pitter patter’ of Fat Cat’s feet as he waddled into the room. Her body guard had arrived. He jumped up on the bed and buried himself under the covers, shortly falling asleep.
“Where’s what?” Haley shuffled further under the blankets. She felt something cold on her foot, but decided to ignore it.
“My deodorant, I know you have it you little thief!” Being called a little thief was much more civil after what she had been called the previous morning.
“Why should I know?” she said, knowing full well where it was.
Adam stomped over to her wardrobe and opened the doors. A heap of clothes fell out.
“It isn’t there!” Haley screeched, appalled by the lack of privacy. “It’s in the trash.” She concluded.
Without shouting, swearing or thumping, Adam turned to leave.
“You owe me a new one.”
“Whatever, but in the mean time…” she delved deep down under her blanket, “A dead mouse doesn’t interest you does it?”
Haley pulled out the cold object and held it out in disgust.
The shouting, swearing and thumping began.
***
Haley strolled into the living room, clutching a big bowl of porridge. She didn’t look best pleased.
“Good afternoon Haley.” Mr Thomas said, not bothering to look up from ‘The Daily Mail’
Like most people her age, Haley disagreed with being greeted in such a way. There were two things wrong with it:
1) If it was before twelve, (which it was) there is no logic in wishing someone good afternoon.
2) Secondly, it was rude.
Mr Thomas looked up from the paper when Haley started talking, as though she were not amused. This was a usual tone of conversation.
“It is precisely 11:22.” She announced.
Mr Thomas sighed and glanced out of the window.
“You have missed the best part of the day!” he claimed, “I was up at 7:30 this morning, out in the garden weeding the vegetable patch.”
“You are proud of this because?”
Mr Thomas frowned, but continued rambling.
“You waste the best part of the morning if you remain in bed for such a long time. You could have been up on a bike ride like I was, or maybe even made breakfast for your mother, who happens to be ill.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“That is beside the point!” he was getting really excited now. “Surely you have homework to do! Or perhaps some more spying, or maybe, just maybe even some tidying. Are you sure that cat of yours isn’t a pig in disguise? After all, your room does resemble a sty Haley.”
Haley grimaced, the ‘jokes’ were getting worse.
Mr Thomas chuckled to himself, spilling a dribble of tea down his front.
“Are you sure that you aren’t a pig in disguise dad? After all, your drinking habits really do resemble one of a farmyard animal.”
Mr Thomas frowned and returned to the paper.
