Oh my frack, I'm back with yet another Ken/Misty. I dunno; this pairing just amuses me. Anyway, this is dedicated to Misty, seeing as how it's her birthday tommorow and everything. I figured if I couldn't get her cake, I'd write her a oneshot. Think about it, Mist, which one is better? Cake, duh. But, here it is, and I hope all goes well on your birthday, Mist!


Oh, hell no. He did not forget my birthday. If he did, I'd have to cut a bitch.

I woke up this morning with a brilliant smile on my face, which is rare, so enjoy it while you can. But I woke up with a smile on my face, expecting to be greeted with breakfast in bed and a 'happy birthday' from my boyfriend of two years, Ken Anderson. Why did I expect it, you ask? It's quite simple. I told him two months prior to today exactly what I wanted to happen. I told him what I wanted for breakfast, which was toast, scrambled eggs, sausage, and grits. What was so hard about that? Then, I told him that I wanted to go to lunch, preferably McDonalds. Their fries are the greatness, it's just that simple. Then, I told him that I wanted to go take pictures. Nice professional pictures, not the shit ones that you take at a mall. After that, it'd be about evening, and I wanted a nice, dark, romantic candlelight dinner. I wanted a salad with extra croutons, since that would be all that I would pick out of the salad anyway, and he could have something… I dunno… Manly, but sophisticated. Maybe baked chicken and a salad with gorgonzola beans, it's much healthier anyway. After that, we'd go off to the house, and be you know… romantic, and whatnot. Now see, was that so hard?

But I failed to remember how much of a simpleton that Ken was.

You give him a bag of Lays, a cold Budweiser, and sit him in front of a football game, he's happy.

Quite frankly, it annoys me. But what annoys me the most is that…


Never in all of our years together have I forgotten his birthday. I made sure to buy him something, I made sure to throw him a party, whether he wanted it or not. I never saw him complain, so it didn't matter much to me.

I woke up, expecting to see him either next to me, or preparing to walk in the door to give me my damn food. Neither happened, so I walked downstairs to see if he was making my food. There was a problem, though. I didn't smell anything, so I fanned my hand towards my nose, hoping to catch a faint scent of food. No food. I looked downstairs, scouring the living room with my eyes. No Ken. This is a time that I would usually say 'figures' and walk back upstairs and go back to sleep, but as stated before, it's my fucking birthday. If I wasn't getting my breakfast, I expect a note saying 'So sorry, we ran out of sausage. Get dressed; I'll be back in a few to take you to IHOP.' Aha! A note! I rushed down the stairs, tripping on one of the middle stairs, causing me to fall and do some kind of rolling flip thing down the stairs. I screamed of course, it fucking hurt! The fall seemed to take forever, though. It seemed like:










I seemed to roll about three thousand times to say that there weren't many stairs. Ah, fun fact. After I hit the floor, I didn't stop rolling. I had so much momentum that I kept rolling… front first, straight into the door and the wall surrounding it.

"Ow," was all that I could mutter. I now have a lovely pain in my face. No bruises or scars, luckily. Not yet, at least. The door opened, the edge of it catching me smack in my stomach. Ugh, damn it. I let out a weak groan, trying to catch my breath.

"Misty? What are you doing?" the person asked me. My least favorite person, at the moment, Ken.

I rolled my eyes, "Being abused down here, apparently."

Ken rushed to help me up, brushing me off in the process. "What were you doing on the floor, anyway?"

I looked at him as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "Apparently, I fell."

He raised an eyebrow at me, "How do you fall when the ground is straight and flat? There's nothing on the ground, so h-"

"Ugh, damn it, Ken! I fucking tripped coming downstairs!"

"You tripped going down the stairs?" he questioned, raising his eyebrows yet again.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. Not a 'happy birthday' or 'sorry' or anything. I'm special, damn it! I may be special in more ways than one, but I'm freaking special!

"Yes, I did and it's your fault!" I accused. He looked at me, confused. Oh, as if he didn't know. "You know exactly what I'm about!"

He stared at her blankly, yet confused, "No, I don't!"

I slammed my hands on my hips. How can he not know? I glared at him, trying to give him a menacing look, but just made myself look dumber than I was acting at the moment.

"Are you okay?" Ken questioned me.

"Don't ask me a stupid question like that."

"No, because your face is twitching and you look like you may be sick or something…"

Shit, it's my look. I should really practice things like this in a mirror before I try them out of the blue. You know; Perfection. I always have been the perfectionist, which may be why I'm throwing my temper tantrum right now. No, I know it's why I'm throwing my temper tantrum. But I'm in the mood for being illogical right now. I took of one of the slippers that I was wearing and threw it at him. It hit him the eye. Good, now the fucker will try to look harder and notice my damned birthday.

"Ow!" he exclaimed softly, holding his eye in pain.

"That's what you get!" I raised my voice.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! You trying to blind me or something?!"

"No, I'm trying to get you to see!" I explained.

"Well it would help if you hadn't just thrown a slipper at my eye." Ken replied back, sarcastically.

"Do you even know what day it is?" I asked him, now tapping my foot on the marble tile of the foyer.

"It's Friday!"


"So you just threw a slipper at my eye just because I didn't exclaim 'Thank God it's Friday!'?"

"No," I sighed. "I threw my shoe at you because you've failed to realize that it's my-"

"Birthday." Ken cut me off. I stared at him, wide eyed. So he did know. If he knew, then where the hell is my breakfast, damn it! "I know it's your birthday today. That's why I'm taking you out tonight."

"But I wanted-"

He cut me off again, "I know what you wanted, Mist. With me working out and doing this meet and greet today, I have no time to do breakfast and lunch. I'm hoping you'll accept this and…" Ken trailed off, digging into his pocket and fishing out something. Something that appeared to be…

Oh my freaking god.

A velvet box!

My mouthed formed the shape of a small "o" as he opened the box to reveal… a plastic ring?! What the fuck is THIS bullshit?

Ken noticed the frown on my face and smirked, "You seem disappointed."

"Good job, Captain Obvious. You get a cookie." Ken stood there, staring at me blankly. It soon turned into an expecting look. "What?" I asked, annoyed.

"I'm waiting for my cookie."

I glared and tried to glare at him again, "Now's really not the time to joke with him, Ken."

He smirked at me in return. Ugh, stop it! "There goes that sick look again." He pointed out.

I huffed and contemplated walking back upstairs, but I didn't exactly want a reply of earlier happening. I'm sure if I saw it on video, it'd be funny, but it sure as hell didn't feel funny.

"Okay, Mist… Your present is right there." Ken pointed at the counter. I followed the direction in which his finger was pointing and saw another box with a bow on top of it, bright as day. How the hell couldn't I have seen that? I ran over to it, almost tripping over the foot stool lying in the middle of the floor. Note to self: Clean house.

I managed to compose myself well enough to get to the box. I damn near tore the bow to pieces and Ken chuckled and commented, "Calm down there, killer."

I paid him no heed however, as I opened the box to see a beautiful diamond tennis bracelet. HolyfuckingshitIcan'tbreatheandIknowI'mmakingnosenserightnowandbreathingwouldprobablyhelp.

"Misty, you okay there? OOF!" Ken grunted as I tackled him to the ground and showered his face with kisses.

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you!" I exclaimed, too excited to say anything else.

Ken let a low laughter rumble from his throat and ran his hands through my hair, "I love you too, Mist. Happy birthday."

-End Story-

Believe me Mist, I laughed so hard at the "o" part. Happy birthday.

Reviews appreciated.