PAUL WANTED TO SLEEP-IN HIS WEEKEND’S SATURDAY – but was awakened by ‘knocking’ noises from ‘outside’ – Paul couldn’t sleep. Looking at the alarm – 8:03 AM.

… he heard DISTINCT ‘VOICES’ ARGUING – and the cripple-boy assumed…

‘… is Mom back…?’

He levitated fast from his bed to his wheelchair – and left the windowless bedroom…

-O-

Paul peered out of the kitchen window – that viewed a partial sight of the porch – and there was no parked white Audi. The disappointed and home-alone mommy’s boy groaned…

‘… where are you Mom – it’s been 5 days…?’

The front door was open – Paul peeped outside the garden, and saw his one-armed twin chopping a branch with a hatchet – while arguing with ‘someone’…

‘… who is it…?’

In the living-room, the curious tween wheelchaired and came close to the tinted windows – to spy-and-eavesdrop…

… Peter was chopping the chunks of the willow-tree branch, that ‘broke’ the top-floor window…

‘… he is ‘trying’ to MAKE ME ‘FEEL’ GUILTY – THAT I break-things in the house – and mom ‘then-suffer’ paying-up…’

Paul recalled the night of the black-panther-mission at the Wilsons – when he left the window latch unlocked – but WHEN HE RETURNED in the storm…

… the devil had-then ‘SABOTAGED’ HIM by locking the window…

‘… I ‘broke’ the window because of you-and-your bloody pranks…!’

His annoyed reverie too-broke – when HE GLANCED OUTSIDE at – his sudden-raged twin yelling…

“You-bloody ‘disobedient’ American tech!”

Through the one-way tinted window – Paul ‘thought’ that he saw Peter hurled the hatchet at the ‘person’ he ‘was’ arguing…

… the small-axe stuck-firm in the hard-trunk of the Sleeping Willow tree.

Peter plucked his AI-device headset from his head – and screaming directly into it…

“It’s different, you imbecilic mediocre-tech – those who ‘first’ migrated from the Old-country were the ‘settlers,’ and then came – the ‘criminals’ in their prison-hulks ships. I for-one for sure belong to the ‘settler’s-group’ – maybe my great-great-great settler-grandfather might be proud ‘owners,’ who have ‘employed’ those low-crimey slaves to work ‘our’ crops-and-farms…”

His AI, Pete2.0 spoke in-the speaker…

“Master, as a PERSONAL RESEARCH HISTORY – can I go-digging and mine-data collection – for your Walker’s family tree FROM THOSE ERAS…?”

“NO! You MAY 'NOT' – that’s my private life, you sticky-nosed gawker – If I catch you digging-up files on me – I’ll snap your bloody pencil-neck!”

The AI felt the ‘pressure’ of the one-armed tween’s thumb – as Peter’s fingers in firm-clutch were twisting to snap to ‘break’ the headphones…

“No-Master, I AM SORRY… DON’T ‘SNAP’ my-neck – I would ‘not’ disobey you…”

“I’LL KILL YOU!”

“Please… Master, I’m sorry… don’t kill me…”

“Then… Behave!”

Inside…

… Paul sighed long while watching outside – ‘seeing’ his irrational twin ‘bullying’ his AI…

He wheelchaired away from the window, scoffing – that he got ‘better’ things to do, other than to be ‘playing’ his brother’s keeper of ‘similar’ role in their-multiverse…

… he went to the bathroom, to pee.

-O-

It was a little over 9 in the morning, Paul on his wheelchair seated at IKEA table, with a pot of coffee to study for his Geography class-test on the Australian cities and ports. He had trouble memorizing facts as his thoughts drifted to daydreams...

... of the generosity of his girlfriend – who gave him $20…

… from her kindness of her-heart to-his, in a time of his dire-need…

… in an ideal-scenario situation, he would ‘cherish’ IT BY ‘NOT’ spending it – and instead put the $20 note in a glass-case, high on a pedestal – and worship and sing devotional hymns to his beloved-Jane’s fingerprints on the legal tender…

… BUT THESE WERE DESPERATE TIMES – just like a building fire-situation – the glass had to be ‘broken’ to get the axe-out…

Paul was soon masticating the thoughts – of ‘what’ value-for-money food choices as an online delivery-lunch…

‘… huh… what about me-dinner then…?’

$20 can’t buy much – let alone both his lunch-and-dinner…

… he decided to ‘hang-on’ to his beloved’s $20 – save it to dinner…

Paul levitated from the IKEA table to the refrigerator – to have a ‘last’ scavenge into the bare fridge…

… he rummaged the internal racks, top-to-bottom – the intensity of a French-boar hunting for truffles.

‘… nothing edible… just bottles… of sauces and seasonings… and marmalade jam…’

Paul then floated-and-crouch to open the drawer of the chiller – seeing mom’s salads were withering yellow leaves and – the butter lettuce was rotting…

… he was thrown-back to the smell – as a member of the Cursed-trio his 5-senses had been heightened-to-prime…

‘… why ‘not’ my studies – ‘why’ can’t I retain facts – am I dyslexic…?’

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

… Paul took a black trash-bag to clear his mom’s salad that had gone rotten – because for 5-days, his inspector-mother was away-busy fighting crime rather than be home, in the evenings to have a salad for her dinner.

His stomach growled – to the timing of school recess-time routine – remembering Jane who used to eat light – with tuna sandwiches and salads…

… he noticed too – her menu changes in the canteen to the cycle of her ‘monthly-periods’– where she ordered meatball pasta every-day in school.

His stomach growled the 2nd time – breaking his reveries of SHS’ cafeteria to his kitchen – caught still staring at rotting salads and the bare racks with bottle sauces-and-seasonings…

… he instantly ‘craved’ for a Cesare-salad – the only salad he ate – because it had sprinkles of ‘glorious’ bacon-bits…

His stomach growled the 3rd time – THE FOODIE IN HIM scoffed and critiqued…

‘… Cesare-salad is overrated – it’s the yummy salty anchovies in the Cesare sauce that is the killer-ingredient to mix-into the rich egg-yolks mayonnaise sauce … and certainly ‘not’ forgetting the serving of bacon-bits… because the crunchy-Romaine salad on its own doesn’t hold-up – without its secret-ingredient which are the anchovies… and bacon…’

He caught himself ‘procrastinating’ by still staring at the rotten salads, with the black plastic-bags in hand – while suffering the pains of his digestive-juice on his stomach-lining…

… while ‘fantasizing’ on the only salad he ate…

‘… ‘why’ am I craving to the thoughts of ‘eating’ rotting-salads – ooo, I’m hungryyy, I should eat something-fast before I get light-headed…’

He wanted to postpone the task of disposing of the bad-salad – as he didn’t want to touch the icky-and-slimy butter lettuce which would later involve him to vigorous external handwashing, to get rid of the internal-feelings of foul food-revoltingness…

Instead… he covered the black plastic bag over the rotting veggies…

… like how the police did on bodybag the dead corpse, at crime-scene.

Then… he closed the chiller-drawer…

… like how the coroner did with the dead-person in chill-drawers, at the morgue.

Paul was then back to the French boar-mode of hunting for food – he was reaching out to every high cabinet to find for something ‘edible’…

His mind-went-Eureka – when he found an opened packet of ¾ full of his mother’s packet of Arnott’s SAO savoury cracker, tied air-tight with rubber bands. He looked into the packet – there were 20+ biscuits, and further, read the label of the package:

Serving-size of 4 pieces per-meal…

‘… no way… I’m ‘cheating’ today – I’m eating all-20 for lunch…’

He put the packet of crackers on the marbled kitchen counter – and reopened the fridge to grab the jar of marmalade. Paul returned levitating to the IKEA table with the food-items and sat back on his wheelchair…

… he dipped a cracker into the jam AND ATE IT WHOLE – munching a mouthful of its goodness – that satisfied his hunger of a home-alone tween superhero-self.

Paul ate sloppy and messy – as he continued memorizing names of cities-and-ports for his Geography subject…

… biscuit after biscuit, Paul masticated – left the surface of IKEA table with scattered SAO crumb-bits and a couple of glob-drips of the jam – while the crippled-boy licking his sticky fingers, as he further smeared-and-smudged the iPad screen when he typed.

-O-

Peter finished chopping the sleeping-willow branch by mid-day – and disposed of it in the garbo. While chopping the wood – for the ‘first-time’ he understood his assignment chapter of his once-hated History lesson-subject…

… where Pete2.0 had coached him well – now, he was ready to take Mr Alexzander Hull’s pop-quiz test on Monday.

Bare-bodied in dripping sweat, the one-armed rubicund tween stepped-away from the sun into the air-con living-room, with a finishing-can of RedBull. The blowing cold-air felt ‘good’ as it evaporated sweat of his hot-body – giving him a brief tingling-shiver…

… he felt top-of-the-world, and he toasts to himself for the ‘chore-well-done’ – as he finished up the RedBull, and crushed the empty tall-can with his single-wrist…

Wanting to dispose of the can into the trash, Peter walked into the kitchen – where he saw his twin, whom he was ‘not’ in-speaking-terms – was studying Geography at the dining table.

The IKEA table was messy – with a person who ate sloppily…

‘… look-out Tokyo – the ‘hungry’ Godzilla is back…’

Peter snickered to himself, as he disposed the empty-can into the recycle-bin – he turned the kitchen sink faucet to fill-up a glass of water to drink – to quench his thirst after the hard-work he did in the sun…

… to upkeep the ‘maintenance-works’ of his father’s house.

At the table, Paul was aware of the dormant ‘devil’s’ PRESENCE IN the dining room – before his twin walked-up to the fridge and opened its door – as his habitual ‘routine’ of a look-see – before the one-armed bandit raced upstairs to his bedroom, wearing his AI-device...

In his bedroom, Peter said…

“Pete2.0, I’M ON A ROLL – what is going-on with Geography?”

For the ‘first-time’ – he wanted TO COMPETE with his twin – in ‘selected’ school study-subjects…

… and TO BE BETTER THAN Paul in it.

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AFTER HIS MEMORIZATION GEOGRAPHY ASSIGNMENT, Paul was back in the windowless-room – on the bed, thinking of Jane…

As he FELT INSECURE…

… with his thoughts were running wild in the open plains of the ‘other-Perth’ – when Alicia and JANE VISITED the Walker-house – after he and Peter were discharged from the hospital, after an overnight stay since the Treeton-farm’s tragic electrical storm…

… back then… remembering…

Jane was all-over Peter back-then. She was blindly into him – and followed his-twin like an adorable Chihuahua with dreadlocks – yelping about happily at ‘her’ champ’s feet – because she was ‘into learning’ tennis…

… back then… remembering…

… Alicia brought a ‘distracting’ gift of ‘Mortal Kombat’ videogame – while her BFF…

… Jane ‘sneaked-up’ upstairs TO GO MEET her ‘first-love’…

… that made him jealous…

… losing concentration in the videogame that he was engaged-in with Alicia – while the blind-tween was walking into his twin’s bedroom…

‘…it was ‘MORE’ THAN half-an-hour she ‘was’ gone…’

… he was ‘tensed’ as his thoughts had-to-know – if they ‘were’ sleeping together…

Paul ‘felt’ light-headed as he looked up at the high-ceiling rotating fan of the Walkers House – that had a hypnotic vertigo sensation, as he slowly ‘felt’ his aura ‘sapped’ out of his body – and the good-spirit levitated fast UPSTAIRS TO ‘PEEK’…

The aura through its 3rd-eye – reported back to the ‘host,’ as Paul in the living-room ‘knew’ they were heavily petting on the bed, in PETER’S BEDROOM…

The bitter Paul ‘summoned’ his aura back…

… then soon realized the Chinese girl was ‘scolding’ him for his ‘excuses’ that he gave – when Alicia was annoyed with him for playing ‘badly’ and ‘losing’ badly to her…

… and, lo-and-behold…

… the Perth’s Famous Couple descended the stairs – both glowing rosy in red-and-golden. Peter was holding his-Janey’s hand as they both laughed-and-walked pass him, still-playing ‘childish’ videogames – while his twin was…

… ‘transforming’ in his coming-of-age self…

Then…

… came the agonizing ‘voices’ of laughter from the kitchen – where Jane was ‘thrilled’ by every bullshit that came-out of his twin’s mouth, as he entertained her over sharing-a-can of coke with his-Janey…

… then ‘CAME’ SILENCE…

… that was even more’ agonizing of the pain-of-suspicion…

‘… are they both making out at my ‘holy-altar’ – the kitchen marble-top…???’

Paul then realized that Alicia was scolding him again – for lack of focus-and-concentration to his work-and-play priorities – while she BELIEVED THAT, playing videogames ‘helped’ in their school studies.

… It was then past one p.m. – the girls were hungry and they invited Peter-and-Paul for lunch in Chinatown…

Peter ‘accepted’ the offer to go – while, Paul ‘declined’…

In the wheelchair, Paul then saw the 3 of them leaving the living-room – and, at the main-door…

… Peter held his-Janey’s face with his single-gloved hand, and passionately kissed her…

… and-then, looked over at the gawking jealous Paul – with glowing red-eyes saying…

“Another-world, Another-time, you mediocre-quad…!!!”