Green blues flutter open, the morning sun streams in through the window. His long thin body lays upon the bed as if a sacrifice to the sun god, that is until he literally rolls out of the bed. Slender fingers are brought through dark locks as the other hand scratches a bare stomach.
Today was a normal day as if any other, however he had that feeling. That feeling that if he did not do something worth while the day would just waste away.
Now, what to do...
Tilt of his head to the left as he ponders such a thought. Green blues hold the key within. Fingers play along the waistband of his blue and green striped boxers.
He had the idea, a small one at that. But to start a good prank, one needs to think small. Let it grow, into something beautiful.
His lips curl ever so lovingly upon his face, the dimples present themselves.
To the wooden dresser, and from it he pulls out a blue-tee, and kahki pants. Within moments he is dressed and on his way through the door.
To the kitchen.
Aha! Green blues light up at the sight of the paper towels he so needs.
Flour, where did Rosie keep the flour?
Long slender index finger brought to his thin lips, gives it a small tap.
Those green blue orbs make contact with a jar, rather large white jar with little flowers on it. Interesting. Was flour held inside, a chuckle is brought up from his throat at that.
Why yes, flour was indeed inside.
He makes his way to the sink wetting at least a dozen paper towel sheets, and then placing a handful of flour inside.
Rubberbands brought out from the drawer beside the sink and he wraps them tightly around the little presents.
Flour-bombs successfully made.
Of course he would never cause such damage inside Rosie's kitchen, so his large hands gather the flour bombs up and goes through the back door.
Outside, he waits.
