Kwangmin giggles as he stumbles into the apartment that he shares with his twin and their two best friends, Minah and Micha – also twins. Minah is right behind him, and bumps into him when he stumbles.

She shrieks, and grabs for the walls, table, Kwangmin – anything to stabilize her drunken body which has been teetering on four-inch heels since they left the New Year’s Eve party.

Kwangmin falls to the floor in a fit of giggles, taking the small girl down with him. She falls on top of him, and then rolls to the side, cackling. “Kwan – Kwangy – Minnie – Kwangyminnie – Min,” she slurs boisterously.

Kwangmin laughs as if she’s just told him the funniest joke. “Minnie- Minahminnie,” he mocks. His laughter settles after a moment, as does hers, and he whispers, “I’m… drunk.”

That starts them going all over again, and they’re rolling around on the floor in the entryway, laughing. They are a sight. Anyone would think they were completely mad. Her rolling around in her expensive black sequined dress, and him in his Gucci suit.

They are not in their right minds. They lost their right minds at the bottom of a Cristal bottle.

“I need… a drink,” Minah mumbles, struggling to pull herself up from the floor. When he sits up, she uses Kwangmin’s shoulder to steady herself, but he falls over, and they’re back down again.

“We don’t need any – no more drinky,” he says, wagging his finger in the general direction of her face – sort of.

“Water,” she wails, pushing off him, and attempting to stand again.

She manages to get to her feet, but lurches forward, slamming into the table against the wall. She knocks off a vase that Micha put there. Kwangmin reaches for it, but is about a foot away from it, and it smashes against the opposite wall.

Minah slaps a hand over , and swears.

Kwangmin puts his index finger over his mouth and shushes her as she struggles to her feet. He stumbles toward her, and holds her, pressing his nose to hers. “No swears,” he says, giggling. “Minooooowoooowooo wouldn’t like it,” he says, lurching away from her, and tottering off toward the kitchen.

“MinwooWooWoo isn’t my…” Minah hiccups, and covers . “He isn’t my umma.”

Kwangmin either doesn’t hear her or ignores her as he disappears into the kitchen.

Minah toddles along until she reaches the kitchen. Kwangmin is leaning into the refrigerator when she arrives. “Kwangy,” she says, tilting her head to the side like a curious puppy. “Whatcha dooooin?”

Kwangmin clutches one of the refrigerator’s double doors, and leans backward to look at her. “I’m hungry.”

Minah’s eyes widen. “Ohhh! Meee too! But… it’s late.”

Kwangmin shoves the door open completely, and leans against it to look at the microwave on the counter behind it. “It’s only three!” he shouts. “That’s… Well, it’s early if you think about it. Really, really, like, really early morn – morning, you know?”

“Oh, my gosh! Yeah, it’s time for breakfast!” Minah shouts.

Then, at the same moment that Kwangmin shouts, “PANCAKES,” she shouts, “WAFFLES!”

They stare at each other, narrowing their eyes.

“Waffles,” Minah growls.

“Pancakes!” Kwangmin shouts.

Minah kicks off her heels, and stomps toward him. “Waffles, Kwangmin!” she insists, pulling his arm so his face is more level with hers.

“Pancakes are better!” Kwangmin shouts, tugging away from her.

Minah gasps, and backs up against the island. “Nothing is better than crunchy, sweet, goodness on top of…”

“FLUFFY PANCAKE YUM!” Kwangmin interjects. “Pancakes are the best!”

Minah slaps his arm, and says, “I’m making waffles!”

“Well, I’m making pancakes!”

Kwangmin turns toward the refrigerator indignantly and stares inside. He realizes pretty quickly that he has no idea how to make pancakes.

Minah is rummaging through the pantry, so she must know what she’s doing.

He pulls out the milk. Pancakes must have milk in them. Right?

Maybe water, he thinks, putting the milk back into the refrigerator. He rethinks that after a second, and takes the milk back out.

Minah stumbles out of the pantry as he closes the refrigerator doors. She has a container of flour and sugar in her arms that she brings to the island.

Maybe he needs those things too.

“I need those,” he tells her, but he sounds unsure of himself.

“I don’ care,” she says. “I need… waffles.”

“I need pancakes too!”

“Get your own stuff.”

“That is my stuff! I live here.” For some reason, he sounds unsure about the latter. He is too drunk. He should go to sleep. Somewhere deep inside, he knows this, but his stomach doesn’t. His stomach just knows that it wants pancakes.

Minah pulls a bowl out of the cabinet, and almost drops it to the floor. She squeaks as she manages to save it, and puts it on the island with her ingredients.

“Minaaaah,” he whines, tugging on her right arm. “Please help me.” He flutters his eyelashes at her, trying to be cute.

“Fine!”

 

An hour later, practically the entire kitchen is covered in a dusting of flour, the entire sugar container is empty (mostly spilled onto the floor), and the two of them are covered in batter that only somewhat resembles pancake or waffle batter.

Neither one of them could locate the waffle iron – maybe they don’t even have one?

It turns out the stove is a little tricky. (Only when you’re drunk…)

So, they decided to just eat the batter. Surely, it would taste like a runny pancake or waffle.

Wrong.

Minah scrunched up her nose after she tasted a bit from the tip of her finger. Kwangmin took a rather large gulp, and then spit it all into the empty sugar container.

“We should have just slept,” he groans from his place on the floor against the wall. His stomach still wants pancakes.

“No,” Minah says, leaning her head over on his shoulder. “We should have gone out for breakfast.”

“It’s three.”

“Four probably.”

“Four.” He nods, and then his head lulls to the side, landing on hers.

“WHAT HAPPENED?!”

Minah jumps at the sound of her sister shouting. Kwangmin’s head falls off hers.

Micha walks into the kitchen carefully, worried that her beautiful black Christian Louboutin heels will get covered in the white substance spotting the floor.

Youngmin follows closely after her. They are both clear-headed, having chosen dancing over drinking at the party.

“Whoa,” he hisses, looking around the kitchen with wide eyes. “It looks like it snowed!”

“I wanted waffles,” Minah mutters.

“We don’t have a waffle iron!” Micha shouts. The kitchen is her domain, and she likes to keep it perfectly organized and spotless. She is horrified by its current state.

Minah just nods.

“You two need to get up and get to bed right now!” Micha points toward the kitchen doorway. “Come on! Go!”

Minah and Kwangmin help one another climb to their feet, and walk toward the door with their heads down.

“You two are ridiculous,” Micha says with a shake of her head.

The two hang their heads lower, and trudge off to their rooms to sleep it off.

After they’ve disappeared down the hallway, Youngmin asks, “Are you going to clean this mess?”

“No,” Micha says, shaking her head. “I’m leaving it for them to clean up. Cleaning with a hangover will teach them not to drink so much.”

Youngmin laughs. “You’re so mean.”

“I am not! They need to be taught a lesson.”

“Oh, come on, umma. Haven’t you ever gotten drunk before?”

“I have. On my nineteeth birthday, and I didn’t tear up anyone’s beautiful, organized kitchen.”

“You love your kitchen more than you love me,” Youngmin says, laughing.

“You might be my best friend, but food is my passion.”

“I don’t think I like being second rate to food, Mich.”

Micha titters as she turns to walk out of the kitchen. Youngmin follows her, shutting out the light on the mess left behind by his friend and brother.

“Where are you going?” he asks her when she walks toward the front door rather than down the hallway toward her bedroom.

Micha glances back over her shoulder, and replies, “Min made me want waffles. You wanna come?”

As a reply, Youngmin walks after her. “You gonna bring some back for them?”

“They don’t deserve it,” she says. “Besides they’re probably already passed out.”

A moment later, the door slams shut behind Youngmin, and his twin and Minah creep out of the bedroom.

“I told you they would leave,” Minah hisses, looking at Kwangmin. “Now, let’s order in some waffles!”

“And pancakes!”