Prompt of the Day: "Look...I'm making eggs. There's no deeper meaning to anything I'm doing here. It's breakfast. Plain and simple."
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"Look...I'm making eggs. There's no deeper meaning to anything I'm doing here. It's breakfast. Plain and simple."
"And it's going to burn if you don't watch it."
When and how did my mother get here? And since when has she started drinking mimosas before ten in the morning? A part of me wants to chuck the skillet, eggs and all, at her for being a smart-ass. The rest of me is really glad to see her, even if she has managed to drop in on me during the most frustrating situation I can EVER remember experiencing.
"Mom? Could you finish up these eggs, please? I need to look up an exterminator for the pest who's sprawled out on my couch."
"Maggie! Is there a particular reason you're being so openly hostile to your guest, or are you just PMSing?" Mom arches a challenging brow at me, and the urge to fling the skillet at her is returning. Go figure. I move the eggs to an eye that isn't on and turn the stove off, glaring at my mother and the cop lounging on my couch. He's supposed to be protecting me, but if he doesn't stop attempting to flirt with me, he'll be the one who needs protection.
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