I heard a telephone ringing in my dreams, a faint ringing somewhere in the back of my head… but that seemed impossible. I had to find out the mystery of why they would want to put the Christmas Tree there, in the middle of that circle, when there spread so much open space around them... Of course, as soon as my slumbering brain recognized that I was actually dreaming, and that the combination digital-and-rotary ringing didn’t go away as the landscape faded from my recollection, I figured out that I might want to wake up, at least a little.
My hand slapped at the phone on my headboard, and picked up the receiver. “Uhm, hello, Korting residence.” I was still basically asleep, and I knew it had to be around noontime, or I wouldn’t have awakened at all.
“It took you long enough,” the feminine voice crept into my ear. “This is the third time I’ve called in the past four minutes.” She sounded impatient, but I knew who it was, so it didn’t matter. “Mom, James, and I going to Fujiyama for lunch, you want to come? We’re leaving in ten minutes.”
“Yeah, uh, sure. Give me time to get some clothes on and stuff.” I knew my parents wouldn’t mind; they were out of town on business that day, and gave me free rein for that summer day.
“Yeah, well, hurry up, because we’ll be there soon, okay? Bye.”
“Whatever. See ya,” and I fumbled with the phone as I set it in its cradle. I dragged myself out of the warm covers and into the bathroom to prepare--it didn’t take me too long, I’d taken a shower before I went to sleep. Hair. Teeth. Face. All quickly cleaned and “primped” in just a few minutes. I rummaged around in my room for a while for something to wear--nothing fancy; I knew I wouldn’t be out all day. I was going to probably be at Samantha’s, (AKA Sam’s) for the next ten hours or more.
Samantha Ash was my longtime best friend, the person in which I believe I had found an eternal friend. We had grown closer than a pair of Siamese twins in the (almost) ten years that we had known each other. Her family totally accepted my presence in their home pretty much all the time. I was the Other Child of the family, and it was almost as much my home as it was theirs, or so it seemed to me.
As soon as I had on a pair of jeans and a light T-shirt with Ohio Northern scrawled all over it, I grabbed twenty bucks from my personal stash, and headed downstairs to wait. The dark blue Safari pulled up in the drive way, and I went out to have lunch.
The meal, entertainment, and food were fantastic, with sizzling steak and succulent chicken flying across my vision as the chef in front of us dazzled us with his nifty handiwork. As soon as that was done, and the leftovers packed up in Styrofoam boxes, we went home.
Not to my home, but Sam’s home, a cozy little den where we could do whatever we wanted for the afternoon. The house wasn’t far from where I lived, just a few blocks away. We pulled the van into the garage, halting as the windshield bumped the tennis ball hanging from the ceiling to guide the driver. Sam’s family and I all hopped out, and ducked inside to hide from the heat of the summer.
The house was dark, most of the sunlight was cut off by thick curtains or blinds closed tightly against the bright rays. The home was full of pets; there was dog fur everywhere, since the Keeshond they kept had the thickest fur I’ve ever seen on any animal, and the “fuzzbucket” shed all over the house. There were even two small holes in the ancient blue-green carpet where she had chewed on it as a puppy. A chinchilla slept in the huge cage against the back wall, and two parakeets screamed at each other in their airy abode. Hundreds of videos and PlayStation games lay haphazardly around the living room, the cables hooked from the TV to the PlayStation to the stereo system were enough to trip someone up.
The couch in the living room was worn down in one spot, having had so many people lay in the same position over the last few years. For years, Sam and I had spent nights waiting to fall asleep at slumber parties, amusing ourselves with the game of “I’m thinking of an animal,” a guessing game like Twenty Questions. But we didn’t play that anymore, we always knew what the other was going to pick.
Ten minutes after we got home, Sam and I were playing head-to-head Quake II against her brother on her family’s set of networked computers, sometimes squeaking out a scream as we found her brother chasing us down and attempting to kill us. We snacked on Mountain Dew and sour cream and onion potato chips for hours, at least, whenever we could let our fingers pause from the game. We yelled at the pair of birds that Samantha’s sister insisted on keeping; they made noise constantly when their cage wasn’t covered. Quake would always end in her brother’s making fools of us, but we didn’t care. It was fun anyway.
After hours of Quake, we would settle down in the family room to watch TV, a video, or play PlayStation games for a while. There was always something to do at Samantha’s house; I felt comfortable there and a part of the family. I had been there so long, that they trusted me in the house alone when Samantha had gone to music lessons, just me playing games on the computer or listening to CDs.
Later that evening, when we were casually gathered around the TV to watch an interesting show flashing across the screen, my parents called for me to come home. Even though I protested through whines and pleading, they came to pick me up and cart me home for the night. As far as I knew, I’d probably be back at Sam’s house the next day.
That night I went to sleep again in my own bed, still wondering why they had to put that Christmas tree right there… and if Samantha was going to call me again in the morning.
This was the paper that I /really/ didn't want to write. It wasn't interesting to me because I've already lived that a million times, and I didn't want to live it in my writing again. So anyway- The White Bull was version 1.1, and now this was version 1.2. Fun, huh?