Cinnamon lay sound asleep in her bed, snug under a blanket. Suddenly, the door slammed violently, jolting her awake. In an instant, her mom was on her feet, hands on hips, marching towards the source of the disturbance.

"HEY, WAKE UP, YOU SLEEPY-ASS HEAD!" Cinnamon's mom's voice pierced through her slumber, reverberating through the room. "TIME TO GET UP!"

But Cinnamon remained nestled under her covers, shifting to the other side of the bed.

"Mom, please," she mumbled groggily. "Just a few more minutes."

"Well, you've had more than enough! Because guess what?! YOU'VE OVERSLEPT!"

With a gradual flutter, Cinnamon's eyelids parted, her gaze drifting towards the alarm clock. It should have blared at eight, signaling the start of her day, but it remained silent. A sudden realization dawned upon her – it was eight thirty. Panic surged within her, propelling her out of bed in a flurry of motion.

"Shit" she exclaimed, pressing her left hand to her forehead in a swift motion.

"Yeah, shit indeed!" Cinnamon's mom bellowed. "You better hustle your strong self to the dining room and scarf down breakfast as fast as you can! You've only got thirty minutes left, and that bus won't wait for you. SO MOVE YOUR BIG MUSCLED BEHIND, SLEEPYHEAD!"

And indeed, the teenager boasted a shapely, muscular physique, not just in her rear but all over. But we'll get to that later.

"Did Dad already whip up breakfast?" Cinnamon inquired, already darting out of her bedroom.

Cinnamon's mom nodded in response, trailing after her daughter as they made their way out of the room.

Downstairs, Cinnamon dashed into the dining room, clad only in her underwear. Spotting a plate piled high with buttermilk pancakes and a ham and cheese omelet, she realized her breakfast was ready—her dad hadn't waited for her to start cooking when she woke up.

As her dad diligently stirred a pot on the stove, his pink cotton briefs catching the morning light, the sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention. Glancing over his shoulder, he expected to see his older daughter.

"Good morning, Cinnamon," he greeted before returning his focus to the cooking.

Cinnamon, the teenage girl recently roused from slumber by her mom's less-than-subtle wakeup call, pulled out a chair and settled in front of her breakfast.

“Ah look who’s late for breakfast,” Cinnimon said.

“Shut up, sis,” Cinnamon snapped as she reaches for a fork.

“Hey hey hey hey,” Cinnamon’s dad said, glancing over his shoulder, pointing to both Cinnamon and Cinnimon with his spatula. “Let’s get into ‘not’ trouble, okay. Let’s get into our nice sweet-ass breakfast in peace, okay.”

Cinnamon then glances at a plate

“And good morning Cinnamon by the way,” he continued before he glances back at his cooking.

“Good morning dad,” she replied as she sat down and start eating breakfast. She couldn't help but voice her frustrations. "So how am I supposed to enjoy breakfast in peace when my sister's on a mission to annoy me?" she retorted.

Her dad sighed, offering some advice without turning away from his cooking.

“Cinnimon,” he said. “Can you please not trouble your big sister?”

Cinnimon sighs. “Okay,” she said.

Seconds later, Cinnamon was only a little bit of her breakfast and Cinnimon has almost already finished. Before Cinnimon take the last bite, she slightly pull one butt cheek off her chair and….PPPFFFFFFFFFFTTT!, she lets out a LOUD FART!

"Real classy, Cinnimon," Cinnamon muttered, fixing her gaze on her sister.

“I didn’t fart at you, big sis,” Cinnimon said. “I fart in the other direction.”

"Well try not to fart in my direction alright," Cinnamon said before taking another bite of her breakfast

"Hey hey hey, you two cut it out!" Cinnamon’s mom scolded. “And you're losing track of time, Cinnamon!” shje shouted while glancing at her atch to gauge the time her older daughter is wasting before lowering her arm. "You need to hurry up if you want to catch the bus."

"Oh, I'm well aware, mom!" Cinnamon retorted.

"No, you're not," her mom insisted.

"Yes, I am," Cinnamon countered.

"No, you're not," her mom repeated sternly.

"Yes, I am," Cinnamon insisted, standing her ground.

"Okay, okay, let's all calm down," Cinnamon's dad intervened, carrying a plate of breakfast to the table. "Instead of arguing, let's sit down and eat together."

Cinnamon's mom sighed, relenting. "I suppose you're right. Is that my breakfast?" she asked, pointing at the plate.

"Yes, enjoy," her dad replied with a smile.

Cinnamon sighed heavily as she resumed her breakfast again, feeling a mix of frustration and resignation. Then she increased her eating speed, eating her breakfast with a newfound urgency, gobbling down each bite in record time until the plate is empty. The orange juice was guzzled in seconds, the empty glass slammed back onto the table with a resounding thud.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Cinnimon and Cinnamon's parents were surprised when they observed Cinnamon consuming her meal at an unusually rapid pace. "Ahhh done," announced Cinnamon after finishing her meal.

Cinnimon, taken aback by the speed, commented, "Whoa, you eat so fucking fast as fuck!."

"Yes, I'm aware," replied Cinnamon, with a hint of sarcasm.

"Cinnamon, you have thirteen minutes left before you have to be at school," Cinnamon’s mom said. "And you have zero minutes left to argue with your little sister so you'd better hurry."

Cinnamon sighs again before she quicky heads upstairs. She quickly gathered her things and left the kitchen, feeling a mix of emotions.

A short while later, Cinnamon is at the bathroom, standing near the sink, hurriedly brushing her teeth. Despite her efforts, remnants of food clung stubbornly to her enamel, and she noticed a hint of blood mingled with the toothpaste foam. "Holy freaking crap," she muttered, peering at her reflection in the mirror. However, the urgency of her schedule left no room for a leisurely dental routine.

"CINNAMON, ARE YOU READY YET?" Her mom's voice echoed through the house.

"Yes, Mom, I'm ready," Cinnamon replied, quickly rinsing her mouth with water.

As her mom entered the bathroom to check on her, she was taken aback to find her daughter still in the same outfit, despite the dwindling minutes before they needed to leave. "NO YOU NOT YOU STILL UNDRESSED!" Her mom's voice rose in frustration.

"Mom, relax, I'm almost done," Cinnamon assured her before wiping her mouth with a hand towel.

"YEAH, 'ALMOST' DONE BY THE TIME YOU MISS THE BUS!" her mom retorted.

"Can you just be quiet, Mom?" Cinnamon requested as she exited the bathroom.

"BE QUIET? I'M TRYING TO GET YOUR BIG, SLEEPY-ASS BUTT MOVING SO YOU WON'T MISS THE BUS!" her mom persisted, following Cinnamon back into her bedroom.

"Well, you don't have to shout," Cinnamon replied calmly as she began to put on a purple v-neck t-shirt and dark blue jeans.

"I HAVE TO, CINNAMON, BECAUSE YOU'RE HAVING A HARD TIME GETTING READY ON TIME, SO START GET DRESSED NOW!" her mom exclaimed, frustration evident in her voice.

Cinnamon paused, irritation evident in her demeanor. "Mom, can you please just leave me alone?" she requested, her tone tinged with frustration.

Her mom fell silent for a few moments, pondering whether her daughter wanted to be left to her own devices, to handle her preparations independently. Despite her desire to ensure Cinnamon wasn't late for school, she realized she might be overbearing. With a heavy sigh, her mom relented.

"FINE!" her mom shouted before she walked out.

After her mom walked out of her bedroom, Cinnamon breathed a sigh of relief, at least for the moment. Despite having only five minutes left until the bus arrived and her purse still unpacked, she felt a sense of calm knowing she wouldn't be bombarded by her mom's yelling as she rushed to get ready. It was clear her mom wanted her to be early, but why remained a mystery Cinnamon had no intention of probing. She knew better than to ask her mom, who would likely deflect the question, insisting she figure it out for herself.

With less than four minutes remaining, Cinnamon began hurriedly packing her purse with books, notebooks, nail polish, and makeup. Suddenly, she realized something essential was missing. "Oh crap, my mirror," she exclaimed.

Frantically, she began searching her room, wasting precious time in the process. She checked her purse again, scoured the floor, rummaged through drawers, and even looked atop her dresser. Her search extended to under the bed, hoping her mirror hadn't slipped out of sight.

"I wonder if my mirror is on the bed," Cinnamon mused aloud, scanning the surface. Disappointed, she sighed, hands on her hips, contemplating the possibility of her mirror magically appearing there.

"Hmm, maybe it's under the bed," she pondered. With determination, she knelt down and peered beneath the bed frame. To her delight, she spotted her mirror nestled among dust bunnies and forgotten belongings.

However, it was just out of reach, prompting an unconventional solution to her predicament. "I wonder if something magical happened to my arm when I'm trying to reach my mirror," she pondered aloud.

As she extended her left arm toward the mirror, an extraordinary transformation occurred: her arm stretched like elastic until her hand grasped the mirror effortlessly. With the mirror retrieved, her arm returned to its normal length as she pulled herself up from the floor.

With the mirror safely in her possession, Cinnamon tucked it into her purse and zipped it shut. Then she finally dress into a very tight-ass pink t-shirt and dark blue skinny jeans. Slipping the purse onto her muscular right shoulder, she exited her bedroom and headed downstairs.

After that, she left the house.

As Cinnamon hurried out of the house, she made her way swiftly to the bus stop, noticing with a sinking feeling that the bus was already beginning to pull away. Determination surged within her as she quickened her pace, desperate not to miss her ride.

With each step, her heart pounded louder in her ears. Just as she reached the curb, the bus seemed to lurch forward. Without a second thought, she broke into a sprint, waving frantically and calling out to the driver.

Miraculously, the bus screeched to a halt just a few feet away from her. Breathing heavily, Cinnamon reached the door, relieved to see it swing open, granting her access just in the nick of time. She stepped onto the bus, grateful for the reprieve, and found herself a seat, heart still racing from the adrenaline-fueled dash.

As Cinnamon reached the door, breathing heavily, she flashed a sheepish smile at the female bus driver, who wore a stern expression.

"Sorry for the delay," Cinnamon panted, trying to catch her breath.

“Wait first of all, who are you?” the female bus driver said.

“Cinnamon,” she said.

“Cinnamon?” the female bus driver asked.

“Yeah,” Cinnamon said.

“And you missed it the first time, huh?” the female bus driver said.

"Well…sorry for missing the bus earlier," Cinnamon apologized, her voice tinged with regret.

The female bus driver eyed her with a mix of annoyance and impatience. "You should've been more punctual," she scolded, clearly displeased.

"I know, I know. It won't happen again," Cinnamon promised, feeling a pang of guilt for inconveniencing the driver and the other passengers.

“Well you’re lucky I stopped for you. Can't you see the schedule? You should've been here on time," she scolded.

"I know, I know. I lost track of time," Cinnamon admitted, feeling a pang of guilt.

The bus driver huffed, clearly unimpressed. "Well, try not to make it a habit. Now get on, we're behind schedule enough as it is," she grumbled, gesturing for Cinnamon to board quickly.

"Thank you so much," Cinnamon said sincerely, stepping onto the bus and finding a seat, grateful for the driver's leniency despite her reprimand.

As Cinnamon settled into an empty seat on the bus, she spotted her best friends, Cymberly and I, already seated together. Their faces lit up with recognition as they saw her approach.

“Hey BFF,” I said, grinning in greeting.

“Hey Calhoun, hey Cymberly,” Cinnamon said.

"Nice seeing you on the bus," Cymberly exclaimed, a warm smile spreading across her face.

"Yeah, what are the odds?" I added.

Cinnamon returned their smiles, feeling a sense of relief at seeing familiar faces amidst her chaotic morning. "Tell me about it. The last hour has been a disaster," she admitted, shaking her head in disbelief.

Cymberly and I exchanged concerned glances as we glanced at each other before glancing back at Cinnamon.

“Well it seems like look like you've been through a whirlwind," Cymberly exclaimed to Cinnamon, her voice filled with sympathy.

"Yeah, seriously, girl, you look like you've had a rough period of time between sunrise and noon," I chimed in, his brow furrowed with worry.

Cinnamon let out a weary sigh, grateful for their concern. "You wouldn't believe the other forenoon I've had. First, I couldn't find my mirror, then I missed the bus, and the bus driver wasn't too happy about it either," she recounted, shaking her head in frustration.

Cymberly clucked her tongue sympathetically. "That sounds like a nightmare. But hey, at least you made it in the end," she offered, trying to lighten the mood.

I nodded in agreement. "Yeah, and now you're here with us. Hopefully, the rest of the day goes smoother as shit," I said optimistically.

“Hope fucking so,” Cinnamon said.