"For the love of Christ, Roland!"
An exasperated cry echoed through the room as a young girl chided her brother, who had enveloped himself in a duvet cocoon on the couch, resembling a dormant caterpillar more than a young man.
"Just five more minutes, sis!"
Roland bargained, his voice muffled by the layers of fabric.
"Five seconds!"
"Three minutes, pretty please?"
"Four seconds!"
"That's not how negotiations work!"
Roland protested, but his words fell on deaf ears. With a swift, fluid movement, the girl yanked the duvet, unrolling her brother onto the floor with a grace that belied her frustration.
A figure of fiery elegance towered over the grounded Roland, a contradictory smile mixing mirth and vexation played across her face. A cascade of flaming red hair, pulled back in a neat ponytail, framed fierce blue eyes that bore down on Roland with an intensity that could set ablaze the cosmos.
Roland, whose features were a mirror image of his sister's, seemed rather oblivious to the storm brewing in front of him. Rubbing his eyes, he mumbled in a sleepy haze,
"Merlin, it's Sunday. I'm off today, you know."
The words were like striking a match in a room filled with gasoline. Merlin's face morphed, her picturesque eyebrows danced with irritation, and her sweet smile contorted into something ominously eerie. With an unsettling calmness, she asked in a saccharine tone that threatened to tip into madness at any moment,
"Oh dear, you do remember what special day it is today, don't you?"
Panic flooded Roland's system as if he'd been dunked into icy waters. Stumbling over his words, he ventured a few guesses, his voice rising in pitch with each attempt.
"Uh... is it pizza day? Movie night? Are we visiting Bath... no? Uh..."
Merlin's patience snapped, a volcanic eruption of fury unleashed as she bellowed,
"It's my birthday, you utter buffoon! Mom and Dad are arriving any minute, and here you are, wallowing like a sloth!"
Realization dawned, a cold, unforgiving sun in a clear sky. A glance at his watch confirmed the worst – it was noon. Muttering curses under his breath, Roland scrambled to his feet, snatching clothes from the closet in a whirlwind of fabric and desperation. Despite the fine quality of his attire, Roland resembled a disaster, with his shirt untucked, sleeves flapping unbuttoned, and collar rebelliously erect.
Merlin watched, a whirlpool of disbelief and amusement churning within her as she queried,
"What on earth is happening here?"
With a sheepish grin, Roland confessed,
"Remember how you asked me to order the cake about a week ago? And how you reminded me multiple times this week? Well... I'll be right back!"
"You absolute bastard!"
Her words were accompanied by a flying pillow that found its mark squarely on Roland's helmeted head. But before Merlin could unleash another volley of words or pillows, Roland had darted out the door, leaving behind a trail of chaos and a fuming sister.