Read Prepper Central: A Prepper Fiction Novel (Prepping - Together we will Survive Book 1) for Free Online

what I was going to suggest. ‘Yes, yes. I know I can use your technology but this is like morning exercise, so leave me be.’
    Who was I to complain? Mom’s pancakes were to die for and if she insisted on sweetening them up with the love of her wrist, then I wasn’t going to stop her.
    ‘How long do you think until you’re done?’
    ‘Another half hour or so.’
    ‘Good. I’m gonna get showered up and then I’ll take care of setting the table.’
    ‘Great, but we all know how you love to waste water, so don’t take too long. Breakfast is a meal best served hot.’
    I entered the bedroom to see that Marge was no longer in bed. Instead, the sound of the shower beating over her body was to be heard. I tapped on the door twice, informing her that I was coming in. Together, we enjoyed the warmth of the water soaking our skin. Marge’s stomach was surely getting bigger and the entire time in the shower, I had a hard time preventing myself from staring at it and imagining just how much fun our little one was having doing summersaults in her tummy.
    When I got back into the living room, I noticed that mom had already set the table.
    ‘You know I said I’d do that, right?’ I turned to her.
    ‘Oh, not to worry. I’m still your mom, I can take care of the small things. Plus, if you’re going to want me to feel comfortable, then you can’t treat me like a guest.’
    She was right. If I intended on living in harmony with my parents, then I needed to allow them to be them, while preventing them from changing the rhythm of my life too much. Having breakfast made was something I could live with. Having the table set was also something that wouldn’t make me feel like less of a man. However, having dad clip his toenails in the middle of the living room- well, that shouldn’t be happening.
    ‘How many screws are you missing?’ I barked at him in a tone that bore the slightest hint of friendliness.
    ‘Wouldn’t say I’m missing any screws but a few nails have already made their way off my foot.’
    ‘Dad. You can’t clip your nails on the coffee table. That’s what bathrooms are for.’
    ‘Thought they were for showering but whatever. Your house, your rules.’
    ‘Damn it Chuck,’ mom chimed in. ‘I’ve talked to you about this for over a hundred years. You think people want your shark teeth stabbing them in the behind when they sit on the couch.’
    Shark teeth? Is that what she called his toenails? Though it did pique my interest, I didn’t want to know. Dad sprung to his feet but not before letting out a few grunts to show us that we were being a bother.
    ‘Two more minutes,’ mom called out in a tone too loud for me, but loud enough for both dad and Marge-who was still in the bedroom- to hear.
    ‘Let me help you with those,’ I said to mom, before taking the platter of pancakes out of her hand and setting it down on the hardwood dining table that was big enough for a group of eight.
    Mom followed closely behind with a bowl of boiled eggs. I picked up the bacon from the kitchen counter and brought them to the dining table.
    ‘Ready,’ mom yelled to dad and Marge.
    Both entered the dining room at the same time. ‘Smells delicious,’ Marge commented.
    ‘Well, let’s hope they taste as good as they smell,’ dad smirked.
    Mom, who was now seated beside dad at the dining table, slapped his wrist. ‘You think if my cooking wasn’t great you’d have a belly that big to show off.’
    ‘I like to say it’s from too much beer,’ dad giggled.
    Together, we enjoyed an exceptionally delicious breakfast- one that rivaled that of the local breakfast house that many would consider the best in the country. Now, it was time to get them acquainted with my stockpile and I couldn’t wait to see what they had to say.
    ‘This way,’ I motioned to the group.
    Through the hallway behind the dining room we walked. The first door I opened led to the laundry room and the second led us down a flight of stairs.