AN: This is a First POV story. Just so you know.
Augustine: Song weaver, self-proclaimed Life Skiller. The bane of his parents' peaceful and quiet life.
"Na na na, I'm moving up the ladder like a raccoon, waving my tail back and forth..." what am I doing, you might ask? Well, I am cooking and singing, what else? I don't care that my songs don't make sense. I am a song weaver. They don't have to make sense. The only thing that needs to be valid, is the tune of the song.
"Tine," ah, my lovely mother has woken up. I finish up on the pie I am making for breakfast. An elk pie, with sweet potatoes, and place it in the oven. I pour enough mana inside of the oven so that it will run for an hour at about 180 degrees, and hum my approval when the green light shows me that the oven has loaded up.