This was it! Today was the day. I scrambled out of bed and put on the first clean shirt I found quickly followed by the first pair of clean jeans I found. I rushed up the stairs and I saw that Grambly was already awake.

"Good morning, Grambly," I cheerfully exclaimed as I flung myself down the hall. She too said good morning and announced that she would be making breakfast.

Soon I arrived in the rather large upstairs bathroom. I quickly ran the green brush through my hair as I located my white scrunchy. Just as I wrapped my dingy scrunchy around my hair, Grambly announced that my fried egg was done.

"Thanks," I moaned. I hate fried eggs. They have a weird texture. They're all rubbery and they feel like they would be better as the sole of my shoe than food. Worse still, they taste terrible. If something tastes like fingernails scratching in a chalkboard sounds, it is definately fried eggs. The smell of fried eggs is alos so unappealing I think I'd rather fry my own tongue than have to loom over them and subject my poor, innocent, helpless taste buds to a type of torture that is tantamount to nuclear warfare in my mouth.

How could I get out of this? I would have to get out into the living room and then to the kitchen and face my nemesis sooner or later. "Maybe I could wait until the bus comes," I mused. Then i thought about it. The clock's lonely minute hand had just passed 6:50 and my bus wouldn't come until a little after 7:20. That meant the poor minute hand (who was definitely getting dizzy from the constant spinning) would have to rotate another 11,160 degrees before my bus would arrive. I couldn't stall for half an hour, but I sure could try.

So, I stopped excitedly rushing about the house and instead lazily instructed my legs to move about in this direction and in that direction. My once happy mood had deteriorated to the tired and lazy disposition that is common among teenagers. Then, after a few more minutes there came Grambly's cry from the kitchen, "Layna, come get your fried egg!"

"I will!" I replied as I searched through the basket of laundry I had left upstairs. I had hoped to find something more aesthetically pleasing than my purple flowered jeans and a red T-shirt. After a few more minutes I found a normal pair of jeans and a blue shirt with some beautiful lines squiggled all across the front.

I quickly changed into said clothes as Grambly called again. "Layna! Come eat your fried egg!"

I packed my backpack slowly as I wondered if Grambly had remembered that I despise fried eggs. Surely she did. Ever since she discovered my vegetarianism, she had been on me about eating more protein. (She was doing it for my own good, but it was a bit bothersome after a while.) Grambly had been wanting me to eat eggs for sometimes. I tried to tell her that I'd rather eat my TI 30 calculator but I just couldn;t say it.

Grambly called again in a few more minutes. It was a little past 7 and I had nothing to do. My backpack was packed full of the things I would need that day along with a gaggle of spare papers I was too lazy to clean out of my bag. I also had my green flute and piccolo case set by my backpack with both inside. Sadly, there was nothing I needed to do.

Feeling a little defeated, I replied with my heart full of dread (and a tad bit of fear), "I'm coming." I meandered out of my haven, down the hal, and into the kitchen. Sitting before me was the odious fried egg.

I noticed there was no odor wafting over from the egg. After a double-take, I realized that it was not a fried egg at all. What I had been fearing for the past twenty minutes was merely a slice of pound cake with marshmallow cream in a small circle topped by a half of an apricot.

Grambly just stood there laughing. After a while, I joined her. It was the best fried egg I had ever had and the best April Fool's day prank Grambly could have played on me.