Good Omens gen, 450 words.
Baby Adam chuckled in his crib. Life was very good as he lazily watched the planets revolve above him, swinging on their mobile.
Life could always be a little better, however. He looked at the boring yellow walls and screwed his eyes up in concentration.
It became a standing joke in the family that Adam’s father was colour blind – after all, how could anyone think they’d painted the walls of their son’s room yellow when they were so clearly blue?
Adam was four, and housework looked boring, and it was even worse when your mother was trying to clean all around you, so you had to keep wriggling around and getting out of her way.
Still, the house was clean soon enough, and seeing as mum got it done much quicker than she expected, she was in an especially good mood, so Adam got chips for tea.
It was Adam’s fourth day at school, and still no one was talking to him. This seemed quite ridiculous – why wouldn’t they want to talk to him, didn’t they realise they were missing out?
He might have got quite despondent, except that on the fifth day everybody seemed to want to talk to him. Satisfied with this turn of events, he set about selecting the best of the bunch.
Step forward Brian, Pepper and Wensleydale.
Adam never quite understood why winning was so important in football matches. He could see the appeal of running around, getting muddy, being allowed to yell at other boys, but actually trying to win and so disappoint the other school? It wasn’t a concept he’d quite grasped.
But everyone else seemed to want to win very badly, and he had school spirit, after all. Contemplating this, Adam caught the ball as it came towards his goal, and then kicked it very hard towards the other end of the pitch. The whistle blew, and suddenly all of the other boys were very excited, and Adam didn’t put his feet on the ground for the next ten minutes.
He supposed winning could be quite fun after all. He did miss playing goalkeeper, though – his coach seemed determined to make him a striker.
It was the first day of the rest of eternity, and Adam was exhausted. Adverting the Apocalypse took it out of you, it had to be said, and Adam had a lot to think about.
He thought, and he thought, and then he realised something. There wasn’t all that much point in changing things, after all, and Adam had had enough.
He closed his eyes for a moment, then sat up. He looked around his room, and wondered whether to ask his dad if he could paint the walls red.
Others on their way. Get yours here.