Three Lemons on an Ice-Pick

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A tale involving three brothers who find themselves in a lonesome situation. Their sister (whom they've lived in the shadow of for almost their entire lives), meanwhile, plans on attending a college party. Much to her dismay, her brothers decide that they would like a part of that action. This leads said trio on the long-mile journey to seeking that specific party.

Humor / Romance
Liam Barath-Lane
Age Rating:


As the shower was running, the hallway light was, for some reason, on, while each and every one of the doors were shut.

“Hello?” a girl in the shower called out, after waiting about four seconds to do so. No answer of course, yet she did it again anyway. “Hello?”

Again, there was no response.

As soon as she turned the water off, the girl in the shower immediately stepped out of it. Much to her dismay (or perhaps just carelessness), she was leaving quite a mess on the floor; and no, I don’t mean what you might think I do, what I mean is that she just got out of that shower and was pretty much letting chunks of water drip down off — well — every inch of her. She walked quite mildly before making it to the door, but not as firmly as knocking on the bathroom door. “Can anyone hear me? Hello?”

Yet again, no answer.

She then took about three seconds to stare at the ceiling, right before continuing, “Whoever is awake, or can at least hear me, get — your ass — up.”

Once yet again, there was no answer.

That was the last straw as she banged on the door with her left fist, “Wake the fuck up.”

In one of the rooms (that being the one closest to the bathroom), it was dim, do the fact that there were no lights on, and the fact that the curtains were not open, being because it was seven o’clock in the morning.

“Wake — the fuck — up!” the girl in the bathroom loudly repeated, immediately grabbing the ears of the boy in the bedroom. It may as well pretty much have startled him — as it woke him up in a millisecond. With his hair hanging down onto his smudged pillow, do to him leaning only an inch up from it, he didn’t know what else to do — well ... he did, actually, he just didn’t know what to do at the time — that specific time.

While swooping around on his bed, the boy looked for his glasses — but he couldn’t bear to find them. As much as he tried to, he just couldn’t; he may as well have been knocking small objects over with his hand, or perhaps just moving it among the blank spots. He then thought, ′you know what, the hell with it,′ and got right up. Taking a step or two right onto the wooden floor, he walked straight towards his bedroom door, wearing nothing but flannel pajamas.

Did he turn the light on before exiting? Well — no — he didn’t. Why would he though? Not that he hadn’t thought about doing so, which he had — for about half a second.

Anyway, he didn’t, and just immediately exited the room. His vision, however, was not the best. In fact, it was mediocre at best; not Velma from Scooby Doo like — but pretty damn close. Everything was blurry (no kidding), that is except for the walls, the color most specifically.

I mean, the fact that one (if not all) of them really had no color, it was the easiest to look at; finding his way was not the hardest, but it certainly wasn’t the easiest either.

By cocking his head right to left, the boy knew exactly where to go; thankfully, he had limbs and a neck after all. Tapping his right hand directly up against the wall, be then began walking straight towards his left. He was sliding his hand against said wall while doing it; not because he felt that it was necessary (as if he was blind, which he certainly wasn’t), but, more likely, because — well — it just felt easier for him.

The reason he was heading that direction in the first place — was because that was where the sound of running water was coming from; not only that, he could also sense some steam coming through, just by laying his hand on the bathroom door.

After entering through said door, which, thankfully (if not, ironically) was not locked, the boy soon came to find out how right he was. From what he could tell (specifically, the most), the entire room carried a fog of steam. Funny enough, he actually could not see at the moment; at least, that’s what he was thinking — for said moment.

“Who’s there?” a female voice (obviously the girl’s) asked.

“I am,” the boy answered, fanning as much steam (or little there of) away, two seconds before walking in all the way.

Spotting him, the girl immediately turned around, only to face herself (From forehead down) directly towards the shower wall.

That was unfortunate for him, as he ended up having to look at her from behind; you know, literally, her behind. “Oh,” he belched out, seconds before attempting cover his eyes, “good god.”

After hearing him, the girl cocked her head over to her right. In which, she looked at him from the distance (specifically by 4-5 feet away), “What hell’s your problem?”

To which, the boy uncovered his face and looked at her for half a moment. “What the hell do you think?” he asked while squinting his eyes.

“Oh, give me a break,” the girl responded, immediately before rubbing her face with both of her hands; ironically enough, she slowly began covering herself from the front with said hands. “You don’t even have your glasses on.”

He then shrugged. “Like that makes a difference,” he responded back, still squinting, up to the fact that his eyes were practically closed.

“What’s the big deal?” she asked, “It’s just my bare ass.”

While looking up at the ceiling, he then belched out, “No need to spell it out.”

“Just grab me a towel, why don’t you?”

Instead of taking her request, the boy looked around all over the entire room (or as much of it as he possibly could), apparently trying to find one himself; at the moment, he began to wonder, ‘Couldn’t you grab one in here?’ But that was before he came to realize —

“There aren’t any in here,” she quickly announced.

Right then and there, with little hesitation this time, he finally did take her request. Turning himself right back around, the boy went — right back out the door. A moment or two later (maybe less than that), he came — right back in — with a red towel in his right hand.

“Do you have it?” the girl asked, without even bothering to turn around.

“Duh,” he answered.

She then turned her head an inch-and-a-half over to her right. “Can I have it?”

For whatever reason, the boy hesitated to give it to her; perhaps, only at the moment.

“Hello?” she spoke out, while (or right before) holding out her right hand; from what it appeared, she began jerking all five of her fingers in a forceful manner.

Again, boy shrugged, thinking ‘Whatever,’ before finally handing it over to her.

In which, the girl grabbed it, without even giving him a word of ‘thanks’; honestly though, it was no surprise.

What the boy had not realized, though, was that, the entire time (or perhaps just the last few seconds), he ended up staring at his own sister’s wet bare bum. And it was not until she looked right back over to him — one last time — that this finally accrued to him. He reacted alright, but that didn’t include screaming, nor shouting out in terror. Instead, he immediately turned — all the way around — in less than two seconds — and headed back directly over to the door.

His sister, in which, took a while (like a minute or two) to actually wrap the towel around herself; he, on the other hand, did not stick around to watch.

But if it did lead up to that, all I can say is — GROSS.

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