Wake Up Call

by Andrew Chandler

Copyright © 2010

Sandy flung her eyes open then sighed and frowned and listened to the loud banging. Her nine year old brother Tim walked through Sandy’s bedroom door relentlessly banging the backside of a pot with a wooden spoon, a wide smile on his childish face.

“Mom told me to wake...,” Tim began but was cut off when he tripped on a pile of magazines Sandy had neglected to put away. Flinging the wooden spoon and landing head first into the pot, his hand still around the handle. Sandy laughed out loud, rubbing in his failure. 

Tim stood up looking half hurt, half indignant. “It’s not funny,” he exclaimed, he lifted his other hand to the pot to pull it off. He tugged. “Uh-oh!” he said quietly and tugged again, eyes wide. 

Sandy sat up on her bed legs dangled over the side, not knowing what to do or say. 

Tim and Sandy stared at each other, Tim’s hands still grasping the pot which was tightly wedged on top of his head. Sandy then smiled and stared to giggle, and giggled some more. Pretty soon she couldn’t stop. A couple of seconds later she was rolling on the floor, tears of mirth sliding down her face. Tim was in a panic, he turned and tugged and pulled, eyes wide. Tears moistened his cheek. Once Sandy saw his tears she stopped laughing and slowly got up. 

“Please help me get this thing off,” Tim pleaded. 

“Okay, but first I need some breakfast,” she said mischievously.