Midnight Mishap

“Dude, you were sleepwalking again,” Mark said, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee.

Kyle blinked groggily, rubbing his eyes. “What? No, I wasn’t. I just… woke UP in the kitchen.”

Mark raised an eyebrow. “In the kitchen? At 3 a.m.?”

Kyle glanced around, still half-dazed. “Yeah, so? I was probably hungry.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “No, you were making breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” Kyle shook his head, clearly confused. “I don’t even remember getting out of bed.”

“Yeah, well, you were in the middle of cooking EGGS. With chocolate syrup,” Mark added, pointing to a sticky mess on the counter.

Kyle’s eyes widened. “What? I don’t even like chocolate syrup with eggs!”

Mark leaned back in his chair, a smug grin on his face. “Yeah, you also tried to put your slippers in the microwave. You almost nuked them.”

Kyle stood up, looking at the kitchen in disbelief. “This is insane. I swear I don’t remember any of this.”

Mark chuckled. “Oh, you sleepwalked right into a full-on cooking disaster. You even tried to put the milk in the OVEN.”

Kyle ran a hand through his hair. “This is so embarrassing. Is this gonna keep happening?”

“Maybe,” Mark said, pulling out his phone. “But hey, at least you didn’t try to go outside again. Last time, you were halfway down the street before I caught you. In your PAJAMAS.”

Kyle groaned, sitting back down. “You’ve got to be KIDDING me.”

Mark shrugged. “Look, you should probably set up some kind of barrier next time. Like a wall of pillows or something.”

“Or a LOCK on the fridge,” Kyle muttered.

Mark raised his cup. “Here’s to no more chocolate syrup eggs in the future.”

“Ugh, I hope not,” Kyle groaned. "Next thing you know, I’ll be making PASTA in the middle of the night."

~~~

The Next Morning

Kyle woke up feeling oddly refreshed. For the first time in days, he had no recollection of any strange sleepwalking incidents. No foggy memories, no WEIRD kitchen messes—just good old-fashioned sleep.

Until he walked into the kitchen.

An open box of cereal sat on the counter, a spoon resting in it like he had attempted to eat it dry. A single cracked egg lay beside it, as if he'd started making breakfast and then gotten distracted halfway through. The fridge door was slightly ajar, revealing a bottle of syrup on the shelf—thankfully, NOT spilled everywhere this time.

Kyle stared at the scene, rubbing his face.

Mark, already grinning from his seat at the table, took a sip of his coffee. “You were RIGHT about the pasta.”

Kyle’s stomach sank. “NO.”

Mark nodded toward the stove. “Check for yourself.”

Kyle hesitated before walking over. Sitting in a pot on the burner was a pile of uncooked spaghetti, floating in cold water. Worse, a spoonful of peanut butter had been plopped right on top of it.

Kyle turned back to Mark, horrified. “What was I even trying to MAKE?”

Mark shrugged. “Midnight fusion cuisine?”

Kyle sighed, slumping against the counter. “I’m seriously going to sleep with my SHOES on tonight.”

Mark smirked. “Yeah, because shoes will totally stop you from making spaghetti à la peanut butter at 3 a.m.”

Kyle groaned. “This is getting OUT OF HAND. Maybe I should set an alarm or something.”

Mark snapped his fingers. “Ooh! Shock bracelets. You know, like the ones that zap you when you try to overspend? Except we program it for when you leave your BED.”

Kyle gave him a deadpan look. “Yeah, because electrocuting myself in my sleep is definitely the solution.”

Mark grinned. “I mean, it’d be ENTERTAINING.”

Kyle shook his head, grabbing a roll of paper towels to clean up his mess. “I HATE YOU.”

Mark lifted his coffee cup. “LOVE YOU TOO, buddy.”