Chapter Text
Bill, much to his own dismay, woke up. His body was telling him “Yo, time to get up,” but his heart told him “Just, like, five more minutes.” Eventually, after some groaning, Bill got out of bed and stretched his legs. Next, he stretched his arms. It was most important to get your body ready for the day to come! He read that somewhere.
Bill rubbed his eyes, still groggy, and looked around. And was it just him, or did the walls of his room become suddenly…bare? His most excellent posters, his neon sign, the hot babe on the wall (which he was planning on taking off anyway, now that he was dating the righteous Princess Joanna), they were all gone!
“Strange things are afoot in the Preston house,” Bill whispered, echoing something Ted said once. “Maybe Dad took them down. Or Missy—I mean, Mom.”
Bill, still in his pajamas, went to the kitchen. His father and step-mother were already there, eating some muffins that Missy probably made. A plate with one was placed at Bill’s usual seat.
“Morning, Bill,” Missy greeted.
“Hey, sport. Up bright and early today, huh?” Mr. Preston added.
“Hey, Dad. Missy, er, Mom. Have you seen my stuff?” Bill asked, sitting down to eat.
“Your stuff? What stuff?” his dad replied.
“My posters. Y’know, the stuff on my walls. Did you take them down, or somethin’? ‘Cuz that is most uncalled for.”
Mr. Preston and Missy gave each other a look. Bill began to eat the muffin placed before him. It was pretty good, but that didn’t make up for all his stuff that had been most mysteriously absconded with. What were his parents hiding from him?
“Bill, are you alright?” Missy questioned. She sounded worried.
“I’m just fine,” Bill assured her, his mouth stuffed with muffin. He gulped the food down so he could speak clearly. “But I’d be better if you, like, told me where all my things went.”
“Bill, son, you don’t have any posters on your walls,” Mr. Preston told him. “You never have.”
“…what?”
“Did you want to buy some posters? I can drive you, if you want,” Missy offered.
“But…No, I don’t want new stuff. I want my stuff!” Bill protested. “Are you two messing with me? It’s not April Fools, is it?”
“No, it’s not. Besides, I can’t think of anything you like enough to put on your wall. Can you, Missy?” Mr. Preston said.
“No, not really,” she agreed.
Was this a joke? What was Bill not getting? His parents didn’t normally pull pranks on him. Why were they acting so…bogus?
“Uh, music.”
“What, son?”
“Music. I like music, Dad. Remember? Van Halen? Wyld Stallyns?” Bill reminded him. That was, like, one of his most favorite things. He thought he made it pretty obvious.
Missy and Mr. Preston’s faces lit up.
“You want to be a musician? That’s great!”
“I used to go out with a guitar player. I could probably convince him to teach you a thing or two,” Missy mentioned.
“Uh…sure, yeah, that’d be great. I’m just gonna go get dressed.”