Alter egos

Johnny Harper woke to see a strange mist blowing into his bedroom. With a yawn he padded over to the open window and rubbed his bleary eyes. Outside, the town was obliterated with an eerie white mist that swirled down the street. It was so thick he could only just make out the outline of the house opposite his and he couldn't tell whether it was night or day. He checked his watch on his wrist. 7.30am.
"Great," he sneered. "I hate being awake on time. Although at least mum won't come and prod me with my drumsticks to get me up."
Johnny opened his bedroom door and was instantly surprised to find the house was totally silent. He checked his watch again.
"It's definitely 7.30," he said. "Where's mum and dad?"
He crossed the landing and pressed his ear against his parents' bedroom door. Not a sound. 'They can't be still asleep,' he thought. 'They're never late getting up. They're usually awake before the birds.'
As quietly as he could he turned the handle and peeked inside. Nothing stirred. All Johnny could hear was the faint whistle of his dad breathing. He swung the door inside.
"Mum. Dad," he roared. "What are you doing in bed? You should be up."
"Don't wanna get up," his mother groaned.
"What do you mean? You're supposed to be at work?"
"Not going to work today, Johnny," she whined and pulled the duvet over her head. "My tummy hurts." "Dad. Are you getting up or what?"
Johnny's dad sat up.
"I'm awake. I promise," he said, his eyes still closed. "Can I play in the lounge?"
"What?" said Johnny.
"Can I play in the lounge before breakfast?" his dad repeated.
"Do whatever you want."
"Oh goodie!" his dad said. He sprang out of bed and charged down the stairs, taking two steps at a time.
"Mum, what's going on?" Johnny asked, perplexed by his dad's strange behaviour.
"God, we can't do anything without you thinking it's weird or stupid," his mum tutted from beneath the covers. "You're so totally clueless."
"Fine, whatever," Johnny said and left his mother in bed whilst he went downstairs.
Seeing no-one in the kitchen Johnny poked his head in the lounge and found his dad sat inches from the TV screen with an X-Station games console in his hand, playing Farmyard Assassin and busily zapping alien cows and chickens with his ray gun.
'Dad better not wipe my score. It took me months to build it up,' Johnny thought before the strangeness set in of seeing his dad playing something he had always been told off for playing before school.
"Dad hadn't you better get some breakfast?" Johnny asked.
"In a minute. I just want to get to the next level," his dad replied without taking his eyes from the screen.
Johnny rolled his eyes and strolled into the kitchen.
"If nobody is going to make my breakfast I suppose I'll have to get it myself."
He poured himself a bowl of cereal and a glass of fruit juice.
"Ohhh Nooooo!" roared his dad from the lounge.
'Killed by the rabbit's death stare,' Johnny thought and chuckled to himself.
A moment later his dad appeared and slumped down onto the chair opposite Johnny.
"What's for breakfast?" his dad sulked as he rested his chin on the table.
Johnny frowned at him.
"What do you mean what's for breakfast? You know, cereal and stuff," Johnny stated, getting impatient with his parent's weirdness.
"I don't want cereal. I want pizza."
"You never let me have pizza so why should you have it," Johnny said as he gulped the last mouthful of cereal and put his bowl in the sink. "Are you going to work today, Dad?"
"I'll think about it," his dad said and got up, pulled a packet of crisps out of the cupboard and shuffled out of the kitchen.
Johnny wondered whether it was some sort of moral trick his parents were now playing. Behaving like him to prove to Johnny how immature and irresponsible he was. But Johnny wasn't immature and irresponsible today. He had to do everything himself. He made himself jam sandwiches for lunch. He found a clean shirt in the ironing pile-a bit creased but with his blue jumper over it nobody would ever know. He brushed his teeth, without being prompted, and put his homework in his bag. But when he went downstairs to see who was taking him to school his parents were still acting juvenile. His mother was draped over the couch with the telephone in her hand.
"Oh you'll never guess what I heard yesterday. Oh my god. It's like the biggest piece of goss you'll ever hear. You know Maureen from down the road..." Johnny switched off his ears. His mum was clearly too preoccupied with her friends. And his dad, Johnny could see through the back door, was swinging on the revolving washing line in the garden.
"I'll just walk to school then," he said and slammed the door shut behind him.
Outside it was still thick with the cold, white mist that twisted round everything it came into contact with. A strange omen Johnny thought, not least because the forecast said it was going to be bright and sunny today.
All day at school Johnny was wondering what his parents were up to. Did they stop their charade once he left? Did they get dressed and go to work? Were anyone else's parents acting weird?
"Michael," Johnny said as he sat beside his best friend in the school canteen and pulled out his jam sandwiches. "Were you parents acting kinda odd today, at all?"
"No odder than they normally do. Why did they finally let you bring your Transformaton to school?" Michael asked.
"No. They'll never let me do that."
"Huh. Shame."
"Never mind. I'm probably imagining it. Things'll be fine later."
"Huh. Whatever."
But in spite of Johnny's hopes of a return to normality when he got home (something he didn't think he'd ever wish for), the situation was no different.
He heard the music blaring from his house from the bottom of the street and when he got home it was so loud the ground beneath his feet vibrated.
"I cannot cope with this," he grumbled through gritted teeth and opened the front door to a scene of utter chaos.
The house was full of his parents' friends all acting as though they were six years old. In the hall Mr Bennett and Mr Lewis were sliding down the banister rail, in the lounge Miss Casey and Rev Jutland were jumping on the couch, and in the kitchen Mrs Bennett and Mrs Cartwright were allegedly making chocolate brownies. There was more chocolate sauce, flour, eggs and milk on the surfaces than there was in the bowl. And the lounge was in no better state. CDs were out of their cases and strewn across the floor, crisps and biscuits had been ground into the carpet and Winston the Terrier had been painted all colours of the rainbow with Johnny's acrylic paints.
Johnny looked on at the carnage, aghast.
"I don't believe this," he mumbled as his mum and dad came tearing down the stairs.
"Look what we found in Johnny's bedroom...Comics," his mum beamed holding up a wad of Johnny's Action Hero magazines. "Who wants to come up and rearrange them all?"
"No!" Johnny screamed. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head violently, hoping the madness would disappear. "No. I can't take it anymore. I can't take it."
"Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, dear," said a soft, distant voice. "Wake up. It's time for school."
Johnny's eyes opened and he sat bolt upright, his heart thumping and his breathing rapid. He was in his pyjamas. A beam of bright sunlight was streaming into his bedroom through his curtains and his mum was leaning over him with a concerned frown on her face.
"Are you okay, dear?" she said holding her palm against his forehead. "You look awful peaky."
"You're normal, mum. You're normal," he gasped as he threw his arms round her waist.
"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" she said and gently stroked his head.
"It was a dream. It was just a dream."
"I think you need to stay off school today," she said. "You don't look at all well."
"No, mum, I'm fine. I'm great. I want to go to school. Really I do. I promise I won't be annoying again, ever."