Mammal Watson Is Kind Of A Douchebag

I honestly don't know what this is.
On the surface it's the story of a boy and his mad rush through youth.
Beyond that, I'm just making it up as I go along.
Please forgive me in advance.

You are Mammal Watson, a second-year at the prestigious Tally-Ho University at the place where the sun kisses the hills and the birds sing heaven's graces. Or something.

Today is the start of a fabulous new week. You're the sort of chap who enjoys a good Monday morning start, and that's without the prospect of fetching one of your father's guns and firing into a group of students! Smashing.

Indeed, it is time you got dressed, and you reach for the red velvet dress pants, white shirt and black leather vest that your trusty manservant Phillus had laid out while you were stepping into your gold-plated tub.

Your alarm beeps for the third time this morning, reminding you that you need to start leaving the house. You hastily throw your textbooks on 'Advanced Theory of Molecular Gastronomy' into your sleek silver briefcase, check you have your keys and your phone, and swing out your bedroom door.

After taking the express elevator down, you notice that your father, Professor Serbus Watson, is in his favourite chair, chewing happily on his sourdough toast with mulberry jam. He doesn't seem to have noticed you though, and you creep by. You know that if he starts talking, he won't stop and you'll be late for your lecture on 'Portraits of Great Thinkers of the 16th Century and Beyond' - thus ruining your perfect class record. You will not earn a star this week!

Reaching the door, you turn the knob and step outside, breathing deeply. You are pleased to note that your eldest sister's prize apple trees are blooming nicely. Strolling down your estate's ridiculously long driveway, you wonder how you should make your way to university...

The End

0 comments about this story Feed