chapter 12 part 4 pork and pitchforks

"Mmm-hmm!"

Sarah's murmured intake of breath said it all as she strode confidently into the kitchen, bulging black trash bags slung over each shoulder.

Tired and persipiring from over an hour of hustling around the hot stoves and ovens, Ellie nevertheless had to smile. Sarah, the queen of lean, self-discipline incarnate, could "Mmm-hmm" all she liked: she'd never dream of touching anything greasier than grapefruit for breakfast. Let alone the veritable mounds of glistening meat, sugary waffles and oozing pancakes to which her appreciative noise had been directed.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, the brunette beauty looked over at the platters on the kitchen sideboard. The boys all loved breakfast, but each had his own idea of what should constitue the most important meal of the day.

In typical fashion, Joe's sweet tooth reigned supreme. Three sizeable stacks of buttery pancakes rose up from his platter: standard, blueberry and - after a recent jibe by Troy about the lack of protein in his diet - a third topped with bacon and - quite disgustingly in Ellie's view - drizzled in fat from the pan. The other stacks were drenched more agreeably in milky chocolate and vanilla ice cream respectively.

No wonder carries all his gain in his gut, she thought. That's one serious sugar surfeit.

Compared to Joe's sickly servings, Troy's morning meal was a model of balance. Four vast waffles were practically floating in syrup alongside three slices of butter-cooked french toast, three rashers of bacon and four chubby cumberland sausages (the type he knew the girls had to travel into town to find). Shuffled to the edge of the overfull platter were two large raspberry muffins - Troy's token self-deceiving attempt to get some fruit into his diet.

As usual, meat-loving Chad was the least imaginative of the three, his platter predictable crammed with an absurd mass of sausage, bacon, egg, ham, black pudding and white pudding. The gaps between this carniverous smorgasbord were packed with so many deep-fried oven chips that even Chloe's esteemed skills couldn't prevent the platter from resembling a big heap of thanksgiving leftovers. Ellie smirked at the sight. Joe was forever cajoling his buddies to think up more inventive and obscure food combos that would tax the girls cooking to the max, but poor Chad was just too pea-brained to do it. Still, what he lacked in variety he made up for in volume.

Just the smell of such a monstrous piles of fried meat and sugary treats on the sideboard made the three girls feel queasy. But for the boys it was breakfast as usual, to be washed down with pitchers of OJ and cocoa, often even followed by some mint chocolates. She didn't even need to worry about filling the drinks with pepto any more: their bellies were now so accustomed to enormous unhealthy meals that in the once-turbulent aftermath of their feasts they now rarely registered more than a grimace or few belches and farts. And sleep, of course. They were the architects of their own slumber, eating so much that they'd generally doze for at least four hours after breakfast.

Ellie sighed. Just long enough for the girls to prepare lunch.

"Living room's all done," said Sarah, casual as a spring wind as she dumped the bags into the trash compactor and dusted off her hands. "And all the washing's on the airer."

Slipping easily from her stool, Ellie strode over an stood behind Sarah. Rising to her tiptoes, she gently moved her friend's blonde ponytail aside and frowned.

"Umm, everything okay Els?" Sarah sounded slightly nervous. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for the off switch, you Stepford android."

As a gentle blush spread across Sarah's perfectly perky cheeks, Ellie glanced towards the corner of the room. "Looks like you were right about the swim win too," she nodded at the ipad propped against the toaster. "Not a peep so far."

For a moment the three girls looked warily at the device, propped up against the toaster, as if expecting it to develop a set of jaws and start chasing them round the kitchen.

Which, metaphorically speaking, wasn't far off what it did do, most mornings. Usually the thing would have been alive by now, with the hungover, irascible face of Joe or Troy as they made demands of their "kitchen staff". It was another ingenius idea of theirs, ostensibly a conduit for them to inform the girls of what they wanted for breakfast, but really just a way to taunt and berate their servants for taking too long with their meals.

Not today though. Which could mean one of two things.

Either the boys were still in a food coma (which by rights they should be) or...

Well, actually that was the only possible explanation.

Slipping down from her stool with a grunt, Ellie nodded towards the vastly stacked platters on the sideboard.

"Might as well get it over with."

---------

True to Sarah's prediction, an earthy snoring rumbled down the staircase before the girls had gotten even half way up - and by the time the trio of tray-totting hotties had reached the landing the walls were practically reverbarating with strangled sucking and gutteral wheezing emanating from their male housemates' bedrooms.

"Is it just me, or do they get louder every morning." Chloe was staring whistfully at Chad's door.

Ellie raised a mischievous eyebrow. "It's the weight," she said, tapping her own narrow middle as Chloe frowned in response. "More fat on the belly and chest leads to heavier snoring," explained Ellie. She'd heard it on a slightly bizarre but inventive new fitness TV show she'd been watching. In the show, a group of personal trainers purposefully gained weight for four months and then tried to lose it along with their out-of-shape clients. Snoring was one of the main negatives cited by the trainers' partners in interviews.

A sudden thought make Ellie smirk. One of the lean mean female trainers on the show had really gone for it - managing to pack on a whopping forty eight pounds in the four month period. In an early episode the camera had followed her around an orgy of supersized fast-food orders, ice-cream binges, caramel rich deserts and midnight feasting as she attempted to plumpen up by forty five pounds, the same amount of weight her "partner", an obese male accountant, aimed to lose. It struck Ellie now that the girl's diet and lifestyle was that different from the Upsilon Block boys' over a similar period.

"Surprising they don't wake each other up." Chloe frowned. "What should we do?"

Ellie emitted a short laugh. "I would've thought that would be pretty obvious Chlo," she nodded towards the platters and then towards the doors.

Chloe looked sceptical. "I know but... they're still asleep; and they'll have major hangovers. Do we really want to wake them up?"

"Do we really want to let them wake up without food?" Ellie countered, foot already pressing against Joe's door.

As arguments go, it was irrefutable. If there was one thing guaranteed to rouse the Upsilon block boys' ire it was waiting to eat. Without another word, the two blondes solemnly stepped forward to the other doors. Despite her fatigue, Ellie couldn't help wondering at the way Sarah always served Troy's breakfast and Chloe Chad's. Of course, Sarah had always had an inexplicable soft spot for the stuck-up blond stud, and since Chad had chosen Chloe for Corn-U-Copia, she'd been looking at him a little more intently, clearly flattered despite the awfulness of the situation. Could it be that even after the horrible treatment they'd received at the boys' hands the two of them still harboured feelings for them?

Ellie shook off the thought. No. She was reading into it too much. It was just routine, force of habit. No way could Sarah and Chloe really still fancy those ***s... Could they?

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A pale light was burning through the curtains, but it still took Ellie's eyes a moment to adjust to the darkish room. Having got her bearings, she gradually began navigating the minefield of strewn clothes, greasy takeout wrappers and dropped coins, padding softly across Joe's bedroom, following the rhythmic, wheezing noise emanating from the king-sized bed up against the centre of the back wall. She felt like a ninja sneaking up on a sleeping aristocrat.

As the breakfast platter drew closer, Joe began to snuffle and grunt, like a slumbering hog whose snout had scented a hoard of nearby truffles. Pulling up beside him, Ellie stopped and took a moment to consider her sleeping nemesis. The shortish mass of brown hair squashed up into a messy quiff by the pillow, the redness of his cheeks, the frown on his forehead, the grey rims beneath his eyes. Signs of a major hangover.

Oh well, she thought, I'm not standing here forever. She cleared her throat.

"Morning," she said softly.

No movement.

She tried a little more loudly: "Joe... Breakfast is served." Mildly irritated she pushed the side of the mattress, causing it to wobble gently.

Grunting like a warthog Joe gradually began to stir. An arm swung out, and the thin summer duvet shuffled down, revealing his naked chest. He yawned deeply, smacking his chops.

And then resumed snoring.

"Ugh fine," muttered Ellie. Losing patience, she set the breakfast platter down on the bedside table with a clang - which failed even to break the rythm of his snores. "He'll just have to have it cold." She slipped the knife and fork out from her back pocket and set them neatly beside the plate.

As Ellie turned to leave a sudden ray of pale sunlight flashed off something on the table, catching her attention.

For a moment she paused, gazing at the pristine cutlery she'd so neatly set down. Then she turned towards Joe's snoring form, lying on his side, the duvet rising in a curve over his hefty belly, which slouched towards her.

She gazed again at the knife and fork.

A devilish grin crept all the way to her earlobes.