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On the morning of October 7th, John didn't want to get out of bed. He knew he was going to have to get up sometime, but he hoped it wouldn't be until he was at least 32. He told himself that his mother would be coming soon, and she would be making that sour face, the one that could make a jalepeno look like a confectionary. He told himself that his six brothers and sisters would be crowding the one bathroom in his home. He told himself that the dog wouldn't get fed, and it would decide to munch on his shoes to compensate. He told himself that he would be late for the school bus, and he'd end up walking the seven miles to his school, and he would be late. He told himself that he would then miss Ms. Thatcher's roll call, and then he'd be counted tardy.
And still he stayed glued to his mattress.
He then started to make up excuses to himself about why he should stay where he was. He should stay in bed longer, just to wait for his rowdy siblings to evacuate the restroom. He should stay where he was because his mother would have one less child to deal with. He should stay in the bed because the dog needed to have something as rough as his shoes for its teeth. He should stay where he was because walking to school was quieter than riding the bus anyway. He should stay where he was because he needed the exercise. But then he'd still be late for class. And if he had one more tardy, the teacher said, he'd be in detention for a week.
Still John stayed glued to his mattress.
Any second now John would smell the bacon his mother had burnt for breakfast. He'd hear his brothers and sisters in an uproar over who should be allowed into the bathrooms. He'd hear the ruckus of people trying to get to their breakfasts, all at one time. He'd hear babies crying, boys yelling, girls shrieking. He'd hear dishes clattering, chairs scooting, and doors slamming. He'd hear complaints aplenty, and then he'd hear scoldings. He should really be in on all that, John knew.
Still he stayed glued to his mattress.
Any second now, the house would be in an uproar....but on October 7th, the uproar never came.

John went downstairs, and found that there was nobody there; at least, there was nobody in the kitchen. He went into the living room. No one. He went into his parent's room. Nada. He checked his brother's rooms. Empty. He checked his sister's room. Quiet. He went out into the yard. Silence. Where could everybody be? They couldn't all be gone at this hour! But there was nobody there, so they must be!
Oh well, John figured. It didn't make any sense, but at least he could get ready in peace.
So, John took his time getting ready that morning. He would probably be late, but he didn't care. He never got the whole house to himself! He took his sweet time in the bathroom; about 45 minutes, to be exact. Then, he made himself a very creative breakfast. He made instant oatmeal, mixed with corn flakes, topped with chocolate syrup and marshmallows. Then, he poured himself a tall glass of root beer to wash it all down. Then, he put a great big pile of generic food in the dog's bowl. Where was the dog this morning anyway?
After that, he got his winter coat and put it on. He didn't bother with his hat or gloves, since his mother wasn't here to scold him, and tell him he'd catch pneumonia. Then he opened the door, and went outside to begin the long trek to his school. Seven miles. On foot.