The room was quiet, soft morning light spilling across the floor. I was dead asleep, tangled in blankets, dreaming of peace.
Then Renae appeared at the door, cheeks stuffed with the last of her tuna sandwich, smiling like trouble itself. She crept closer, bending over me with that mischievous grin.
And then—snorting.
Alien gibberish in Stitch's voice, right in my ear.
"Ghhrrrkkhh… blrrrhhkkhh… mmmrrhhkkhh!" she rasped, nasal and ridiculous.
I groaned, pulling the blanket tighter. "What the hell… Renae, leave me alone."
The gibberish only got louder, punctuated by snorts and wheezes.
"Hhhrrrkkhh… blrrrhhkkhh… gggghhhrrhhkkhh!"
And then—SLURP.
A wet tongue dragged across my cheek, up to my forehead, then wetter still across my lips.
I shot straight up, flying off the bed like I'd been electrocuted. My scream echoed through the room as I wiped my face in pure disgust, staring at the slimy white smear on my fingers.
"WHAT THE ACTUAL—Renae! Did you just lick me?!"
She collapsed onto the floor, laughing so hard she snorted again, her dimple flashing.
"Mmm… tuna."
I froze, horrified.
"Wait. What?! You licked my face with what?! Renae Fucking Richards, YOU DIDN'T!" I cried, flailing like a child, skin crawling as I tried to wipe the tuna slime away.
She only grinned proudly, still in Stitch voice.
"Tuuunnnaaahhh!"
My jaw dropped.
"Oh, I'm gonna give you something to smile about."
I stormed to the closet, yanked out a baseball bat, and turned slowly—eyes narrowed, smile devilish.
"You're dead."
Renae backed up, hands raised, giggling, voice warping into alien squeaks.
"Tuuunnnaa face! Tuuunnnaa face!"
I bolted after her, bat in hand, hot on her heels down the hallway. Our laughter and chaos echoed through the house—the perfect disaster to mark my first morning of college.
I jumped the stairs two at a time, swinging at her head—not hard enough to kill, but enough to hurt if I connected. She ducked and drifted like a race car with no brakes, pure gas at 200 km/h.
I never gave up, bat raised like divine judgment.
We skidded into the kitchen—where gospel blasted from the boom box, bass shaking the counters.
Anika was already there, sipping her coffee, wrapped in her robe like a queen. Before she could react, Renae dove behind her, clutching her waist like a human shield.
"Hhhrrkkhh… blrrhhkkhh… protect meeehh!" she snorted.
Anika blinked, coffee halfway to her lips. "What in God's name—"
I stormed in, bat raised, eyes blazing. "She licked my face. With tuna breath."
Anika froze, then slowly set her mug down. "Oh, hell no."
Julian appeared from the pantry, holding… a fork. Just a fork. He stood like a knight ready for battle.
"Stay back! I'll defend myself!"
I stared at him, incredulous. "With a fork? Really?"
Renae peeked out from behind Anika, still snorting, chanting:
"Tuuunnnaa face! Tuuunnnaa face!"
Anika sighed, rubbing her temple. "This is my life. My actual life."
Julian lunged forward, fork raised. "Don't underestimate me!"
I swung the bat—not at him, but at the counter—sending a spoon clattering to the floor. Julian yelped, dropping the fork instantly.
"Ahhhhh, my wig!" he shrieked in a female voice. Anika shot him a look that said, This is my husband. Really?
I grinned devilishly. "Yeah. That's what I thought."
"Wait… your what?"
Suddenly Renae shrieked, darting out from behind Anika, sprinting toward the living room.
"Tuna face foreverrrr!"
I bolted after her, bat in hand, while Julian scrambled to pick up his fallen fork, muttering, "It could've worked…"
"The scream, most definitely. Maybe our neighbors will call 911 for a lady in distress," Anika teased, settling back into her chair with a sip of coffee, utterly unbothered.
Julian crouched dramatically, raising the fallen fork. He rose with flair, flipping his imaginary hair and striking a pose like a pageant queen mid-breakdown.
In a shrill falsetto, he cried, "Oh heavens, Anika! The children are perishing! I smell trauma and tuna! Somebody save them before the tuna wins!"
He burst into laughter, tossed the fork like it had betrayed him, and hopped across the kitchen with his feet fluttering like a butterfly. Still laughing, he retreated down the hall to investigate.
Moments later, his voice echoed back.
"She's alive… but Veronica's entire butt is sitting on Renae's head! Oh my God, I thought she killed her, but no—she's just spiritually destroyed!"
Anika sipped her coffee again, shaking her head.
"She deserved it. Lord, give me strength. Or noise-canceling headphones."
Julian stood watching as we toppled onto the couch, twisting and laughing into the most ridiculous battle imaginable—an all-out butt fight.
Renae shoved her hips sideways, snorting in Stitch voice.
"Ghhrrkkhh… blrrhhkkhh… butt powerrrr!"
I cackled, pressing down harder.
"You're going down, tuna breath!"
She squealed, wriggling beneath me.
"Alien butt attackkkk!"
I grunted, shifting my weight.
"Not today, chaos alien. I'm the queen of this couch."
We laughed so hard we could barely keep fighting, legs kicking, pillows flying.
Julian stood in disbelief. "Oh my God. They're killing each other with their asses."
He rushed forward, trying to wedge himself between us, tugging at my arm.
"Stop it! Stop it right now! This is indecent! This is barbaric!"
I shoved him off with one elbow, still laughing.
"Julian, get out of the way before I sit on you too—and yours will come with an all-inclusive fart!"
Renae snorted, kicking her legs like a child.
"Help meee! She's crushing my soul!"
Julian yanked at my shoulder, voice climbing into a shrill falsetto.
"Anika! They're murdering each other with butt power! Call 911!"
But I only pressed down harder, grinning.
"Say tuna one more time, Renae. I dare you."
She wheezed, eyes wide, then croaked in Stitch voice,
"Tuuunnnaaahhh!"
I collapsed into laughter, rolling off her, while Julian fell to the floor out of breath.
"This house is cursed. I can't save anyone. Not with a fork. Not with prayer. Not with anything. I haven't even eaten breakfast yet—you've got me defending on lungs and stomach acid."
Anika's voice floated in from the kitchen, calm as ever.
"They'll tire themselves out. Come drink your coffee. Before the worm starts singing kumbaya."
Julian groaned, rubbing his face.
"No one's getting any of my blueberry pancakes."
"Dad, I will strangle you in your sleep," Renae shot back, sitting up, clearly not joking about her food.
"And I will swallow you back in my balls… Play with me."
"Ewww," we both exclaimed, scrambling up and backing toward the kitchen.
"Boo!" Julian shouted, trying to scare us as we ran off laughing. We stopped at Anika, leaned in, and kissed her cheeks.
"Good morning, Mom," we chanted.
"Good morning, Tuna Face and Butt Head," she responded, shocking us both.
"OOOH… I'm never letting you guys live these names down," Julian said, stepping in and uncovering the pan of pancake batter, turning toward the stove.
"You little—"
"Butt Head. Stairs, bathe, breakfast, and through the door. Do I make myself clear?" Anika interrupted calmly, making me choke a little as I tried to hold back my laughter.
"You too, Tuna Face," Julian teased, poking our noses with pancake batter.
"I'm gonna kill you, Dad," Renae growled, lunging at him. But I gripped her face in a panda like hug from behind, dragging her out of the kitchen as she kicked, trying to break free.
"See you in a few, honey pumpkin Butt Face," Julian teased, blowing a kiss and clipping the spatula at us playfully.
Upstairs, we bumped fists and saluted before retreating to our rooms.
"Skinny jeans!" Renae shouted.
Giggling, I sighed, went into my room, and had a long, amazing shower.
What felt like a long separation of pampering ended when I froze by the sink, toothbrush dangling from my mouth. My eyes scanned Renae from head to toe as she stood in my bathroom doorway—black strapless top, oversized blazer, ripped jeans, metallic heels, silver clutch, and hair so sleek it looked illegal.
I spat the toothbrush into the sink.
"Who are you supposed to be?" My voice rose. "A fashion assassin? A runway villain? A rich aunt who steals husbands and eats caviar off crystal spoons?"
Renae turned slowly, striking a pose like she was in a Vogue spread.
"I am the moment."
I blinked. "You look like you robbed a designer boutique and then seduced the security guard."
She smirked, clutch raised like a weapon. "I did. He gave me his number."
I gasped. "With you looking this damn good… people will think you're my sugar mama."
Renae smirked. "Thank you. I call this look 'Boardroom Brat with a side of tuna.'"
I gagged. "You're still talking about the tuna?"
She winked. "It's part of my brand now."
Patting the water from my mouth, I stepped out of the bathroom in full view—emerald satin blouse, ripped jeans, black high heeled sneakers, hair sleek, bag matching, face set like I was ready to conquer the world.
Renae gasped, clutching her chest. "Oh my God. You look like a rich villain's daughter who just got kicked out of private school for being too iconic."
I flipped my hair. "I call this look 'Don't talk to me unless you're emotionally stable.'"
Julian wandered in, took one look at us, and dropped his phone.
"I'm sorry, are we going to college or filming a music video?"
Renae posed. "Both."
I pointed at her. "She's the chaos. I'm the control."
Julian backed out slowly. "I'm the trauma of the blueberry pancake."
Laughing, we followed Dad downstairs.
In the dining room, Renae strutted in first, blazer flared like wings, heels clicking like she owned the floor. Her clutch sparkled. Her dimple flashed. She spun once, hair whipping like a shampoo commercial.
"Behold," she declared. "The CEO of Chaos."
Anika looked up from her pancakes, eyes wide. "Oh no. Not again."
Renae posed with one leg up on the ottoman. "I'm giving you power, seduction, and a hint of tuna."
I stepped in behind her, raising an eyebrow. "I'm giving you precision, danger, and the ability to run in heels."
Anika dropped her fork and knife, watching in amusement. "You both look like you're about to walk into a boardroom and slap someone with a lawsuit."
Renae twirled. "I could. I might."
I leaned against the wall. "I already did."
Julian walked in, arms outstretched, clearly overwhelmed. "Can we not do this before breakfast? I'm emotionally fragile."
Renae pointed at me. "She's wearing sneakers with heels. That's cheating."
I smirked. "You licked me with tuna breath. That's war."
Julian backed toward the hallway. "I'm going to hide in the pantry. If I hear screaming, I'm gonna assume someone got murdered by a handbag."
Anika finally sighed and cleared her throat. "If you three don't sit down, I'm going to fashion off your faces with a slipper."
We froze.
Julian whispered, "Oh shit… She said the slipper, you guys."
Renae sat. I sat. Julian sat. Peace returned—for now.