Zombies Ate My Homework
To say it was and ordinary day was like saying the Beatles were a horrible band. It was like saying the sky was made of duct tape or that brown and pink were a fantastic color combination. In any way, it was not an ordinary day. Sure, it had started out ordinary, but ordinary it did not stay.
The alarm clock had gone off, like it ordinarily did and Rand had rolled onto his right side, like he ordinarily did, and shut it off with a displeased grunt. Another ten minutes passed and his mother had hollered at him to get out of bed, like she ordinarily did, and was, of course, ignored. Another fifteen minutes after the first ten, Rand's mother stomped up to his room and shouted, “You're nineteen! You're too old to have your mother drag you out of bed in the morning!”This too, was ordinary.
Rand had rolled further onto his right side and right off the bed onto his floor covered in dirty laundry, which softened his fall. He lay there for five minutes and six minutes after the first ten, fifteen, and five minutes, he sat up and opened his eyes. His room was ordinary; a bed, dresser, desk, closet, and no visible floor. Slowly but surely he stood up and began digging out his outfit from among the ordinary chaos on his floor.
Rand had picked an ordinary t-shirt, ordinary jeans, and ordinary socks. He observed his ordinary reflection in the mirror and scratched at his stubble. Quickly, he ran his fingers through his brown hair and with bleary brown eyes criticized its lack of elegant disheveledness. Another five minutes passed.
“Rand! You have ten minutes until the bell rings!” Rand had rolled his eyes, grabbed his sneakers and headed downstairs where he grabbed his keys (which only had two keys and twelve key rings) and walked off towards the garage.
“See you later, Mom.” Rand had called out like he ordinarily did and opened the door to the garage. He tossed his bag into the backseat of his truck and climbed in. The truck had groaned as it was forced back to life and Rand had backed out and gone on his way to his first period of school that day, which he had been twenty minutes late for and had always been late for, for the past four years. All perfectly ordinary.
Rand thought about these things, about his ordinary start of a day, while he swung his makeshift bat at a zombies head, and wondered, really, where the hell it had gone all wrong.