The pressure gravity held on my bladder was slightly hard to ignore. I made my way to the bathroom, a few minutes passed until I flushed. I stared into the reflective surface hung upon my wall. I winked at myself, and then let out a manly smile. Holy. Lord. Of. The. Saviors. I. Have. Fangs. I yelled quietly without a trace of emotion on my face. I yanked them both out effortlessly, in one shot and tossed them in the trash. I turned my back to the mirror, and walked out of the washroom, ignoring the weak voice inside of me screaming that this was abnormal.
Flustered I made my way down to the second floor of my home, when the smell of smoke filled my mucus covered nostrils. “Father?!” I called, hurrying to the source of the smell --- it was coming from the basement. I scurried down the dungeon like stair case into the basement, tripping over a flower pot, spilling all of its contents onto the floor. I took a few more paces, and located my father. He was desperately trying to tame his machine which had caught fire. It was then that I realized, I had never been in my basement before. The walls were plastered with dark heavy metal posters, and on the floor were piles and piles and piles of money, most of it coming from the machine… and that’s when it hit me. Seriously, right in the face, father’s machine exploded sending all of the money, posters, flowers, me and my father to the other side of the dark basement and that’s when it REALLY HIT ME.
Father had always spoken about the latest fashion trends, and I was always slightly taken aback at how he was able to afford everything, but now I knew. My father owns a money counterfeiting machine in my basement, the reason why it was always “Off Limits”. I quickly covered my nostrils and squinted my eyes trying to see if I could find my father in the thick gray musky smoke. I located him, and in one nice, smooth, suave motion swung him over my shoulders and sprinted up the spiraling stairs, into my kitchen where Granny was baking cookies, oblivious to the explosion that had just occurred (she was partly deaf in one ear). As she bent down to remove the hot tray from the oven rack, I pushed her into it and closed the door, without a second thought. I rubbed imaginary dust off my hands indicating an easy job accomplished. That was one less explanation I thought to myself as I cranked up the heat. I made my way up to my room, and laid my head on my pillow. I had done enough today, and figured I earned myself a few hours of sleep.