Three Lemons on an Ice-Pick

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Pucked (Part 1)

Arnold could not bring himself to wake up; not that he did not want to, he really just didn’t feel like it. That was right up until a loud noise had struck his room from behind the wall near his bed. It was not an airplane, nor a helicopter, nor a firetruck siren, nor anything else that would be considered unintentional disturbing of the peace.

The noise was that of drums; not the kind you would hear at an African festival of some-sort, no, these were the ones you would hear at a rock concert.

It wasn’t until 4-5 minutes in that Arnold finally decided to act. But first, he had to remove the blanket he had over himself from — well — himself. Next, he had to move both of his legs over towards the left-hand side of the bed. The next thing he had to do was slide said legs off from the bed. Last, but not least, he had to pull his whole self up off of said bed. Thankfully, he managed to do all three of those things, just before he went and walked right over to his door, opened it, exited his room, and then ran into his brother, Max; well, he didn’t exactly run into him, but more so noticed him from a not too far distance.

For a moment, it looked like he was standing in front of another room. But in actually, he was clearly standing in front of a door to someplace else.

“What’s going on?” Arnold asked him while standing in front of his own door — by two inches away.

With his glasses on, Max cocked his head and looked over at him, speaking in a slightly firm tone, “What does it sound like?”

Arnold then hesitated (though, he appeared to be doing it on purpose), “I’m not entirely sure, but it sounded a lot like loud drums.” He then shrugged. “I mean, that’s what it sounded like when I woke up.”

“Well guess what,” Max responded, “I woke up the same exact way. I woke up — like — five minutes ago from the loud sound of both drums and a tambourine.”

“How long’s he had them for ... again?”

Max quickly shrugged. “What does that matter?” In a matter of seconds, he then turned and faced back over to the door he had been standing in front of, only to knock on it. “Can you open up please?”

Without even realizing it, Arnold had been wearing nothing but a pair of light blue boxers. Despite this, he went and walked over to the exact spot Max was. “What’re you trying to do?”

“What does it look like?” Max responded while facing him again for a brief moment. “And would you mind wearing anything else besides ... you know?”

Arnold gave him a blank a blank/expressionless look. “You’ve seen me in boxers before.”

“That is besides the point,” Max added as he continued to knock.

Arnold then began looking at both him and the door itself in confusion. “He’s not doing it anymore, is he?”

“Well, you can’t be too sure.” Max gave the door another knock. “Come on, Devon, open the door.”

On that note, Arnold, without even hesitated, took matters into his own hands. Within 2-3 seconds, he walked right in front of Max and went up directly in front of the door, only to bang on it firmly at least three times.

It was so loud and out of left field that it actually made Max flinch a little bit, making him take one small step backwards.

“Open the hell up, Devon!”

Max then took another step forward. “A little warning next time.”

Arnold cocked his head back. “What?”

“You practically woke up the whole house doing that.”

“First of all ...” Arnold said to him, as he continued standing directly in front of the door, only to immediately grab onto the doorknob. “Most of us in this house are already awake, obviously. Second, hasn’t Devon been pretty much waking the whole neighborhood by playing that damn drum-set of his?”

“I think you get my point.”

Arnold shrugged. “Maybe.”

As soon as that conversation of theirs had ended, the door finally opened. Devon was, of course, the one to answer it: he had on a white t-shirt with an unspecified image on it, along with red flannel pajama pants. Like the rest of them, he looked as though he had just woken up; though, that could likely have been do to his hair, despite it being naturally bushy. “What is it?”

Arnold and Max both gave him firm looks.

“Could you stop drumming,” Max lightly begged him, “please?”

Devon immediately shrugged. “Why?”

“Wh —” Max mumbled.

Arnold then responded, “You’re seriously asking that?”

“Yeah,” Devon said while shrugging again, “Like, what’s the problem?”

Max began hesitating, “The problem is that you’ve practically woken up the whole neighborhood.

“What’re you talking about?” Devon asked in a mellow voice.

“I mean that mom and dad might surely be awake ... from the noise you’ve been making.”

Devon shrugged yet again. “Are they even here?”

“Of course they —” Max said, right before an immediate pause. He then looked at Arnold. “Are they home?”

Arnold shrugged. “How the hell should I know?”

“You could could check,” Max firmly said to him.

“Whatever,” Arnold responded, about two seconds before taking Max’s request.

Devon, on that note, had a slightly awkward look on his face. “’know what I just realized?”

“What?”

“Arnold’s in his underwear.”

Max then gawked, five seconds before responding, “And?”

Devon began hesitating, right before an immediate shrug. “Nothing.”

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