A home
Suburbia
Suburbia
The woman yawns, stretching her arms over her head before bringing her arm down on the buzzing alarm clock. She groans, rolls over, and gives a quick jerk to a rope by her bedside with a knot on it, tied to prevent the end from going down into the hole drilled neatly into her bedroom floor. The rope pulls tight for a moment before slackening again, and in the kitchen below, the other end of the rope pulls a gate upwards, releasing a baseball from confinement. The ball rolls down the chute, picking up speed before bumping into a lever, which pulls a pin suspending a counterbalanced weight. The weight slowly but heavily drops onto the toaster oven's switch, turning it on.
The baseball meanders a bit on the counter until its slightly uneven surface helps gravity pull it down to the end of the counter, a groove leading it directly into a box of cereal, precariously balanced on the edge of the counter. The box wobbles, but drops as predicted into a hinged bracket designed to upend it just the right amount, and it dumps an amount of cornflakes into a waiting bowl. The baseball finally finds the hole at the end of the second groove, and it drops below the counter, jostling a balloon just enough to push it into the pin sticking out from the side of the wall. The balloon bursts with a
Northsidegal finally comes downstairs in her fluffy bunny slippers and robe and stoops to pick up the baseball rolling across the floor to her. The toaster oven dings, and she takes her Pop-Tart out, burning her fingers slightly in the process before settling down to enjoy her breakfast.
"I love it when a plan comes together."
The baseball meanders a bit on the counter until its slightly uneven surface helps gravity pull it down to the end of the counter, a groove leading it directly into a box of cereal, precariously balanced on the edge of the counter. The box wobbles, but drops as predicted into a hinged bracket designed to upend it just the right amount, and it dumps an amount of cornflakes into a waiting bowl. The baseball finally finds the hole at the end of the second groove, and it drops below the counter, jostling a balloon just enough to push it into the pin sticking out from the side of the wall. The balloon bursts with a
POP
, and the string tied to the end of it goes slack. The sudden lack of tension travels through three pulleys, and allows the beaker tied to the end to come to a rest on the counter, sloshing milk out of its funnel and into the waiting cereal bowl.Northsidegal finally comes downstairs in her fluffy bunny slippers and robe and stoops to pick up the baseball rolling across the floor to her. The toaster oven dings, and she takes her Pop-Tart out, burning her fingers slightly in the process before settling down to enjoy her breakfast.
"I love it when a plan comes together."
