Outside, the weather was crisp, but sunny: the kind of perfect weather that caused people to go out and savor the rare treat of sweet and fresh air. Inside our apartment, tension cooked the air, and Smelly Gabe's stink flushed out every other smell. The kind of horrible situation that caused people to gag and beg for instant death.

Some people might be wondering just what kind of terrible incident might have happened to create this awful atmosphere on a great day like this. I mean, no one was died, and the whole world was perfectly content. Actually, let me correct that. My nose was suffering an extremely painful death, and eating breakfast with my mom and step dad was the polar opposite of contentment. As usual, during the few times we had a meal all together (Usually, I was in boarding school, my mom was working and S.G was too busy snoring away), no one was exactly jumping with joy over it. My mom was forcefully prattling away, trying (unsuccessfully) to lighten the atmosphere. Personally, I think saying "Oh, isn't that interesting!" for the most uninteresting things in the world wasn't the way to do it. But hey, not that I'm complaining or anything. Meanwhile, me and Smelly Gabe were throwing dagger looks at each other with him spewing out stupid insulting comments and me gritting my teeth so hard it hurt. Trying to stuff food in my mouth at the same time too wasn't that easy either.

Just your typical breakfast during the summer.

All of a sudden, my mom's voice cut through me and Smelly Gabe's glaring competition. She sounded like she actually cared about what she was talking about now.

"Look, honey: an advertisement for blue soda! I knew we had Cherry soda, but blue!"

At that, Smelly Gabe turned towards my mom, distracted.

"Blue?" He asked disbelievingly, curling his disgusting lips into his usual sneer. "Let me tell you something I don't think you know Sally."

Under my breath I silently muttered "If that's the case, then you've achieved a miracle." Unfortunately, Smelly Gabe didn't hear my quiet-but-at-the-same-time-loud voice.

"That's probably some stupid computer made image you got there. Some cheap little trick that's rubbish." He leaned back, looking oh, so pleased that he had out-smarted my mom. Like he had. But considering that my mom had already shown that she was fond of the idea of blue soda, I though that Smelly Gabe was going a bit too far.

"And you just had to say that, didn't you?" I said angrily.

"What would you know, kid? From your report card, I'd say you didn't know anything." At that moment, staring into that idiotic ugly face sneering at me, I would have loved the idea of committing a murder then (Big prize for who), but my mom interrupted.

"Percy, please." Right. Be nice to smelly, stupid, insensitive Gabe. Just how, I wondered for the hundredth time this summer, does my mom put up with him for half the day? I can't even stand half an hour!

Looking at my mom though, I thought I saw something, a little bit of resentment, smoldering in her eyes. Plus, she hadn't apologized to Smelly Gabe about my behavior. Which was, now that I thought about it, really surprising. Usually, she was so cautious about him that you'd think he was a bomb (a stink bomb). And I knew Smelly Gabe hadn't expected this either.

"Well, what's the kid supposed to say?" he asked impatiently.

"I think we can let him off just this once, don't you think Gabe? After all, he's just come back, and I think Percy's a little stressed." Wow. My mom was actually retaliating.

In the end though, Smelly Gabe did blow up like the stink bomb he was, and I did apologize, as reluctantly as I could. And then the incident was over. Or so me and Gabe thought.

Next week though, we had another morning of what I thought was going to be another tense, miserable breakfast of happy togetherness. However, when I looked down at our plate, sitting there were the bluest, most defiant waffles I had ever seen, smiling cheekily with their mouths of whip cream. Gabe took one look at those waffles, his mouth open in shock, before shooting an evil look at my mom. I swear you could practically see this streak of angry humiliation coursing through him, turning him a dark red. Me? It was all I could do from keeping myself staring at my plate without bursting into laughter.

"Don't you like them, honey?"

Asked.

Cheerfully.

With an all too innocent face.

Just your typical breakfast during summer

Please reiew! Flames welcome (Though if you do flame me, do it nicely......Is that even possible? Oh well.) Anyway, if you think I can improve something, please tell!