Once we got home, Dad said that we could choose any room we liked. So I beat Laura to the room at the corner of the north wing.
We are decent kids, which is why we shook hands over it, and moved towards the kitchen.
Imagine my surprise when the Hitachi 6-door fridge had cans upon cans of ice cold Dr. Pepper. I helped myself to one, and walked to the living room with Laura in tow.
Dad, I don't want to move again; I like this house, I whined. Laura's mouth was plastered with Butter Fingers, and she gurgled: Are we going to do to them what we did to the last family?
That's when we all looked at the terrified family of five bound and gagged in front of us, and Mum started handing over the tools. I had to pout. I always get the damn screwdriver.
But that's okay; I've got the best room in the house, and I had to smile at that.