Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride.
Author's Note: Haven't written anything in a long time. I was going to write a Pokemon story throughout the course of the summer, but, I didn't. Maybe later. I've been trying to write Pokemon, but it's not coming easily. This, however, is. I've had this idea for awhile and started writing it the other day. It'll only be a twoshot, but I really hope you guys'll review with lots of CC!
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My morning had been terrible. It all really started with the previous night, I guess. It had been storming, so of course whenever I was about to fall asleep, there would be an exceptionally loud thunderclap or a bright blast of lightning.
So I "woke up" grumpy that Friday morning to the neighbor's "dog" yipping. I lived in an apartment, so they weren't even supposed to have a dog. It wasn't even a real dog. It was one of those Mexican dogs with big ears that lets people dress it up and paint its nails.
I rolled out of bed and hopped into the shower, only to be blasted with cold water. I gritted my teeth and vowed to move into a real house as soon as possible.
After my rushed shower I discovered that I only had clean skirts, which I hate. I put on my favorite one, a mini-khaki and rooted through my closet before finding an okay white, button-up, short-sleeved shirt that my mom bought me.
I went back into the bathroom and shook out my hair before brushing it, then groaned when I saw my face in the mirror.
I looked like the top model for the living undead, which stunk because I did not feel like primping.
So, I didn't, and put on socks and tennis shoes before grabbing my purse and heading out the door, and then was in between my two least favorite neighbors.
The neighbor on my left was a crazy old lady named Alice, who sometimes played heavy metal or weird nature music at three in the morning. And sometimes she would bring over broccoli casserole, which I hate and force me to watch bad soap operas with her.
And, speaking of soap operas, that's what the neighbors on the right were. They seemed like a normal family on the surface, but, if theywere actually a normal family, then I do not want a family of my own someday. The parents were constantly arguing, and so were the two children. And, the oldest son and the parents were, too. He was kind of a rebel.
Anyway, I got into the elevator with Alice and the mother of my right neighbors, Laura, who was dressed in a woman's suit.
"Good morning, Max," she greeted warmly. "That was some storm last night, huh?"
"Tell me about it," I replied. "I didn't get any sleep."
"I can tell," Alice put in. "You look like the poster zombie for Zombies Gone Wild; the Revenge of Consuela's Sister-in-law. I'll tell you what, I'll bring it over tonight with some of my broccoli casserole and we can watch it tonight."
"Um, no thanks, I have to pack to head up to the city tonight," I said, quickly stepping out of the elevator when the doors opened. Laura and I stepped out, but Alice simply laughed and pushed the floor three button, waving at us.
When Laura and I got outside, we went our separate ways, and the rest of the morning was uneventful. I stopped and ate breakfast at my favorite cafe, as was my routine, then continued on to the office building where I worked as a secretary on the first floor.
I sat down and turned on my computer, dropping my purse under my desk. As the computer hummed awake, I spun around in my chair and went over to the fax machine that sat behind me, hoping to have a fax from Fang.
I did, and I quickly grabbed the warm piece of paper before going back to my desk and whipping out a pen.
Mornin' Max. What kind of coffee do you like best? Anything interesting happen with the neighbors?
Fang thought my neighbors were hilarious. He liked Alice and Poncho Panya Sombrero the Third the best, though.
I wrote back in my loopy handwriting, which always looked weird next to his chicken scratch marks that he claimed were actually letters.
We've already had the coffee conversation, correct? But, anyway, I guess I like Starbucks frapuccinos. The regular kind, or any of those new fancy ones. You know me, I'm a sucker for frozen coffee.
Oh, the neighbors were a riot this morning. Especially your two favorites. Alice told me that I look like the "poster zombie" for "Zombie's Gone Wild; the Revenge of Consuela's Sister-in-law". Before that, Poncho Panya Sombrero the Third had woken me up yipping. Probably at a bird or something.
But there. That was my morning in a nutshell.
I turned back to the big machine and entered Fang's fax machine code, and then sent the fax. On my computer, I pulled up my game of Solitare from the previous day and got a notepad ready to write down voicemail messages down with. I moved around a few cards before I heard my dinosaur of a fax machine start wheezing, and I waited for the many pieces of paper to finish sending before taking it off the tray, and was mildly disappointed when I saw it was something I needed to take to my boss.
Sighing, I got up and went into the elevator onto the next floor, where the main office was. All the salesman worked up there, along with Mr. Rennings, the boss. HR and I were on the bottom floor, along with the conference room and break room.
"Come in," Mr. Rennings called after I knocked on his office door, and I entered.
"Max," Mr. Rennings said, smiling. "What do you have for me today?"
"Well, to be honest, I'm not exactly sure what this is. Confirmation day was yesterday, but I'll just let you read it," I said, handing him the packet before leaving and heading back downstairs.
When I got back down there, Fang had faxed me back, and I took the message happily.
Did she really? Man, that's rich! You'll have to introduce me someday... so, we need to meet up at this convention thing tomorrow.
I grinned, and wrote back under his message.
Oh, totally. It'll be fun... having never seen each other before. And, I swear, Fang, if you're some weirdo old guy...
I sent the message and seem that I almost immediately got a reply.
I swear I'm not! I'm twenty-six, just like you! Pretty good-looking, actually. Putting my good looks aside, it'll be me, you in a conference room with other secretaries' and a few hellos. And some muffins. Blueberry's your favorite, right?
I grinned, excited to finally meet him after three years of faxing. And I was happy he remembered stuff like that.
Yeah, I like blueberry muffins. But, if you make them... I'm not sure I'll eat them.
I didn't get a reply for a few minutes, and I guessed he was actually, gasp! Working. I took advantage of that time to scrawl down a few messages and start write a new email to Mr. Rennings. That "compose mail" button on Gmail always cracks me up. It just does.
And, then I finally got my reply from Fang.
What? I'm a good cook! Better than you, anyway. Which, you know, isn't saying much. But, still. I make really good blueberry muffins.
I internally groaned and laughed, and I knew huge smile broke out across my face. Why in the world did I every tell him about my cooking attempts?
I'll be the judge of that, I replied before going back to Solitare.
"Hey, Max," a familiar woman's voice asked and I could hear light footsteps getting closer.
"Yeah, Jenna?" I asked the woman, who happened to be a friend of mine.
"We need to update our records for the convention tomorrow, so we're doing that now, and you're first up," she explained, with the smile she always wore, and I got up.
"Let's go," I said, following her into a private cubicle.
Awhile later, after answering a bunch of questions, I sort of let my mind go on cruise control, and I didn't really pay any attention to the questions she was asking until she asked this one question.
"What's your favorite color?"
"C'mon," Jenna said, smiling even bigger than usual. "It's important."
"Uh, brown, I guess. What kind of questions have you been asking me?"
"Well, your favorite animal is a cat, and you can't stand chihuahuas, apparently. Um... if you ever had a twin boy and girl, you'd name them Anakin and Padme because Luke and Leia is too cliché. And, you really have a thing for egg chairs, don't you?"
I gave her a weird look and she laughed. "Well, when I asked you about your relationship status and you told me you'd been divorced three times and had ten kids, I had to take advantage of that."
I laughed. "Did I really?"
Jenna nodded. "We're done here, Max. Go take care of those kiddies! And try to make this relationship work!" She called out teasingly as we left the cubicle.
"Shh! Jenna, someone might hear you!" I whisper-yelled, looking around. She just kept laughing as she went back into her HR office and I went back to my desk with a new fax from Fang.
You made me laugh. And the whole office looked at me funny. Thanks. Anyway, what's happening?
I smiled, and clicked my ballpoint pen with the bobbly top.
Well, thanks to Jenna, I just learned some interesting fun facts about myself.
I sent the message through, and I guessed Fang wasn't working anymore, because I only got a few sentences in on my email to Mr. Rennings before I had a new fax message. And I'm a fast typer.
Do share. If Jenna's involved... it has to be good.
Oh, I replied. You'll think it's rich. So, throughout this mandatory HR update, Jenna figured out that I love cats, and can't stand chihuahuas. And, if I ever have a twin boy and girl, I'd name them Anakin and Padme because Luke and Leia is just too cliché. And, apparently, I love egg chairs.
I sent the fax, then turned back around to my email and I guessed Fang was back to work, because it was several minutes before he faxed me back.
I get the whole chihuahua thing, because of Poncho Panya Sombrero the Third who's haunted your nightmares since 1993, but... okay, I gotta go. We've been setting up for the thing tomorrow, and I've been making up excuses to come up here to use the fax machine, and Mr. Larn is coming over here. See you tomorrow!
I chose not to reply back, and then finished up my email to Mr. Rennings before playing Solitare, determined to finish a game.
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Author's Note: And, I think I'll end it right there. Yeah, I know, it's really bad, right? Hopefully, the next chapter(that you will hopefully read) will be better... and up tomorrow or Saturday. So... give me some constructive criticism? Please? Oh, and, does anyone else have problems spelling criticism? Me and that word don't get along.