Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly

To snooze or not to snooze?
From beneath the covers I hear my room door burst open and
smack against the wall.
“Turn that awful thing off!” Stella shouts.
Flopping a corner of the comforter back, I force one eye open
and squint at her. I don’t say anything at first—partly because I’m
surprised that she could hear my alarm all the way down in the
slimy dungeon I’ve pictured her sleeping in and partly because I’m
trying not to laugh. She looks like a pint of mint chocolate chip
exploded on her face.
“Did you fall asleep in a bowl of pistachio pudding?”
She scowls and jabs her finger at the still-blaring clock.
Nothing happens.
“Aargh!”
I smile. Maybe I can get Stella grounded for the entire year—at
least then I’d be safe.
If her face weren’t covered in green I know she would be turning
red.
When she stomps in my direction, I fling my arm out and smack
the top of the clock. I don’t want her getting any of the green goop
on my fluffy white comforter. “Forget it,” I say, sitting up and swinging
my legs out of bed. “I’m getting up anyway.”
For a moment she looks like she wants to continue her attack,
but then turns and stomps back to her room.
My brain is waking up—no turning back now.
I grab a pair of track pants, a T-shirt, and a pair of white socks
out of the dresser, pull them on in a matter of seconds, splash some
48