Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Not The Breakfast Club ❯ Not The Breakfast Club ( One-Shot )

I don't own "Weiss Kruez" or the character's. They belong to Koyasu Takehito. However if I did I would show Farfie my knife collection, swords and my straightjacket. Heh, Heh, Heh.

Not The Breakfast Club

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Stretching slowly and languidly Schuldig awoke to a darkened room. He started to reach for the bedside lamp and stopped. "Do I really want the light on?" He had had a rough night. Guarding that idiot Takatori until the wee hours of the morning. His head hurt from shielding the whole damn time, plus the snatching of information his employer wanted from his unsuspecting guest. Groping about on the table beside his bed, he found what he needed. Dry swallowing a few aspirin he lit his first cigarette of the day, his lighter briefly illuminating the dark room. Taking a few drags he quickly snubbed it out realizing that Nagi was about to bang on his door.

"I'm up, I'm up!" he shouted; too tired and sore to project to him at the moment, at least not until the aspirin kicked in.

Flicking on the lamp he groaned aloud. "Fuck." Another happy crappy family breakfast day. Oh and mein Gott it was Farfie's turn to cook. Shit! Perhaps this mornings entrees would be frog leg's and fairly raw t-bone steak with a side of runny eggs, oh and don't forget the burnt toast to go along with it; like the last breakfast cooked two weeks ago by that maniac.

Fuck Bradley for trying to involve that madman in the Shwarz's households domestic duties. Quote Farfie "A bad breakfast hurts God." Schuldigs stomach lurched with the thought of that last disaster. "Oh, could we just not hurt Him right at this moment?" he thought groaning aloud again.

At this point in time Schuldig would rather have breakfast with the Weiss crew. He had "heard" that little Omi had turned into quite the cook. Brad was an all time sadist as far as Schuldig was concerned, Brad "knew" it would turn out badly. The bastard!

Sighing he peeked into Brad's and Nagi's minds briefly, realizing they were both already seated at the breakfast table, and waiting for him. Damn it! It's another horror in the making, he could "see" in their minds the semi-raw pancakes piled on plates and the burning almost flaming bacon on the stovetop.

"That's it!" "I can't stand it!" Leaving the bed he hurriedly dressed, tied back his hair grabbed his sunglasses, coat, and wallet. Shutting his door quietly, he walked to the front door of the condo and exited. He was going out for breakfast this morning.

This is my first "Weiss Kruez" short story. I've only written poetry before. I'd like to thank anyone who reads this. If you would like to review this story please do. But if you don't, thank you once again for at least reading it. Kachinadancer