Pasta Puns – Derek and Peter

“Peter, don’t eat with your hands!” Sheila, the mother, commanded her son, who is eating spaghetti with his hands.

“But mom, I’m not stroganoff to use a fork.” Peter laughed.

“The real Peter would never admit to not being stroganoff…you must be an impasta!” Derek hopped on the pun train.

“You’ve lost your noodle!” Peter responded.

“I bet you paid a pretty penne for that one.” Derek said.

“No way, puns are a part of my daily rotini.” Peter said.

“You look as dough you’re coming up with these on the spot!”

James is shaking his head. “Would you guys cut it out?” He asked with shake of his head.

Wheat a minute, we’re not done yet!” Peter and Derek said at the same time.

“Here we go agrain.” James deadpanned.

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Genre Wars – Derek, Peter and James

“Science Fiction.” Derek said.

“Fantasy.” Peter countered.

“Science Fiction!” Derek shouted.

“Fantasy!” Peter denied.

“Mathematics.” James added, holding an ‘Advanced Math for Fun’ book up high.

Derek and Peter whacked either side of his head, knocking his glasses off his face.

“Pain…” James deadpanned.

Stick-It Notes – Gus and Peter

Gus, father of the McWilliams children, walked to the kitchen for a bite to eat.

Recalling chocolate pie in the fridge made that his first stop.

He opened up the refridgerator and behold, half a chocolate pie. But there was a stick-it note on the plastic lid.

“Do not eat – Peter” is what it read.

There was also a note on the orange soda. “Do not drink – also Peter”

In fact, all of the food in the fridge had a stick-it note plastered onto it with a family member’s name on it.

Giving up on a snack, Gus decided to watch some TV. He plopped on the couch and picked up the remote.

It also had a stick-it note!

“I call the TV next – Derek” it read.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Said Gus.

The car keys, bathroom door, laundry, board games, video games, laptops, phones, EVERYTHING had stick-it notes stuck to them by various members of the McWilliams family, each claiming ownership as if the stick-it note prevented others from using whatever they’re stuck it.

And it worked so far…

Gus shook his head. “I know how to stop this.”

Peter walked in the house, a bag of fast food in his hands. “I need to stick-it note my ownership on these…”

He walked to the closet to grab a stick-it note but was shocked to see the package of stick-it notes had a note on it.

“These are mine now. – Gus/Dad”

“Darn it.” Peter said.

Procrastination – Derek and Selena

Selena let out a loud groan, rubbing her temples.

“What’s the matter with you?” Asked Derek.

“I have this school project I have to do with Brandon, but my head is killing me right now…” She took her glasses off momentarily.

“Then don’t do it?” Said Derek with a shrug.

“I have to do it. It’s a school project, remember?” Selena repeated.

“What I meant was don’t worry about it now. Just do it later.”

“How would that help?” She asked.

“Selena, Selena, Selena.” Derek echoed. “It’s called procrastination. Don’t do it until you feel like it!”

Selena gave him a weird look. “That doesn’t sound very productive.”

“That’s the point.” Derek said. “Just listen to me. Have I ever done you wrong?”

“Do you want me to sugar coat the answer?” She asked. “But I guess I’ll try it. I’ll do more harm than good feeling this way anyway.

Two Weeks Later…

Selena and Brandon carted their parts of a project together. Brandon said, “Okay, I think I’ve made mine right. What about yours?”

Selena half chuckled and rubbed her arm. “Well actually…”

Confused, Brandon removed the cover of Selena’s project to reveal it was nothing more than scattered parts and unused tools.

“What the heck do you call this?!” He exclaimed in horror, knowing well they were gonna fail.

“I call it ‘I’m never listening to my brother’s advice again.'”

Terrible Tennis – Stella and James

Stella pranced onto the clay tennis court, dribbling the tennis ball in place on one side of the court.

James begrudgingly stepped to the other side of the court. He was forced to help his sister practice.

“Ready for this?” Stella shouted.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” James said half heartedly.

Stella served the ball forcefully. James ran after it but missed by a long shot.

“You’re supposed to hit the ball!” Stella said.

“Then hit it to me!” James retorted.

Stella served another ball, this one towards James. He swung after it but it bounced and hit him in the face, knocking his glasses off.

“That makes the score 30-love.” Said Stella.

“But you only scored twice? And what do you mean by ‘love?'” James questioned in confusion. He got to his knees in attempt to locate his glasses.

“Tennis scoring goes 15, 30, 40. And love means you have zero points.”

And out of seemingly nowhere, Peter ran by saying, “Guess that means James really does get a lot of love when it comes to girls!”

Stella cracked up and James, after returning his large white glasses to his face, began to walk away.

“Where’re you going? You still need to help me practice!” Stella shouted after him.

“To get a girlfriend.” James said simply.

Peter and Stella were beside themselves with laughter, falling to the clay court.

Rocket Robbery – Peter and Stella

“It doesn’t take a genius to know this is a bad idea.” said Stella, arms folded and eyebrow quirked.

“That’s what makes it fun!” Peter stated proudly as he picked the lock on Derek’s door. Derek is currently away from the house with some friends.

The two inched into his room. It’s decorated with guitars, countless photos of himself, family, and friends, as well as a blown up picture of James’ eye in a twitch. Even while he’s away he left his stereo playing rock music from his big, expensive speakers.

Peter opened up the bottom drawer of Derek’s dresser and began to dig around.

“You sure it’s in there?” Stella questioned. She was about to ask why he’d hide a rocket in the first place, but the answer was very clear to her.

Peter unearthed the functional model rocket from the depths of Derek’s dresser. “Positive!”

The two scrambled out the door, down the stairs, across the living, through the garage (where a curious little robot called Prototype began to follow), and finally out to the front yard.

Peter assembled the model rocket on the driveway and firmly held the remote control.

And dropped it.

“Lemme see it.” Stella said, reaching for the remote.

“I took it and assembled it. You get your turn after mine.”

Prototype blipped happily.

The rocket hummed as Peter sent power into it. Before long the rocket blasted into the air, impressing the three watchers.

At least until it flew into second story window with a loud crash!

“Nice going.” Said Stella.

Peter chuckled. “At least it’s back in Derek’s room…”

Neither were aware of Prototype, who’s eyes quickly turned red. He shouted in his synthesized robotic boy voice, “Intruder breaking in!”

Both Peter and Stella exclaimed, trying to calm the aggravated robot.

“It’s not an intruder!” Peter shouted, waving his arms.

But it was too late. Prototype fired a REAL rocket into the very same window the FAKE rocket blasted into. There was a loud boom, some fire, lots of breaking sounds. One of Derek’s expensive speakers flew out of the window and nearly beheaded Peter.

Peter and Stella exchanged a glance.

“Technically Prototype broke his room, so…” Stella began.

“Then technically that makes it James’ fault since Prototype is his robot…” Peter mentioned.

“Intruder neutralized.” Prototype said.

Peter and Stella slowly walked away from the robot.

Paper – Derek, Peter and James

“Do you guys mind?” Questioned an irritable James who’s trying to read a science-y looking book.

“We’re minding our own business, what’s your problem?” Asked Derek.

“You are, that much is true. But you’re both crinkling those wads of paper and it’s really distracting.” James stated.

“You mean like this?” Said Peter, then he and Derek began simultaneously crinkling the paper balls in each of James’ ears.

“Really, just stop it!” James shouted.

Derek and Peter exchanged a glance.

“Fine, we’ll stop.” Derek said.

“Good.”

James could finally concentrate on his book now that his two older brothers stopped acting like four year olds.

But you should know by now that this was to be short lived.

Splat!

“What the heck, guys!” James exclaimed has big wet paper spit balls smacked him in the face.

“You told us to stop crinkling the paper. But we needed to do something with it.” Peter said.

“I’m leaving.” Said James, standing up and walking toward the bedroom door.

About twenty spit balls stuck to his back as Derek and Peter initiated rapid fire on their little brother. After he left the room they proceeded to spit paper at each other until they ran out of paper.

“Now what.” Derek said.

“We could use my homework, not like I’ll need it.” Peter offered.

“Let’s do it.”