A New Life in Modern Family

I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.

https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon

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Chapter 93: The Curse of Breakfast Bling

Jon's Perspective

The sun had just begun its daily rise over the Los Angeles skyline, and its rays slanted through the kitchen windows of the Pritchett household with the casual elegance of a golden spotlight. The light caught on stainless steel appliances, bounced off the glossy countertop, and finally came to rest on a plate of crispy bacon, fluffy scrambled eggs, and a sweating glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. It was, objectively, the kind of breakfast that magazine spreads and diner dreams were made of.

Jon sat at the kitchen counter, fork in one hand, elbow on the polished marble, and was halfway through his second helping of eggs. His eyes were still bleary with sleep, but the familiar comfort of a weekend morning was beginning to settle in. The world was quiet. The food was hot. He wasn't expected to wear real pants. This, he thought with sleepy satisfaction, was as close to peace as a household like this ever got.

Across from him, Jay nursed his morning cup of jet-black coffee like it was the only thing anchoring him to this plane of existence. He stared into the mug as if it owed him money—and was considering skipping town.

At the stove, Gloria swayed gently from side to side as she expertly flipped arepas on a cast-iron pan, humming some soft Colombian tune under her breath. Her hair was up, her robe cinched tight, and despite the domestic setting, she moved like a woman who could—and maybe would—throw a shoe with perfect aim if provoked.

Jon breathed in. This was good. This was safe. This was cholesterol-heavy harmony.

Then Manny walked in.

Correction: Manny entered. He didn't just walk in like a normal person. No, he moved with the careful intensity of someone carrying either a small animal or something that had very recently started ticking. His face was a complex blend of reverence and fear, and in his hands, he held a velvet box like it might bite him if jostled.

"Look what I found in my room," he said, eyes wide. "It was under my bed, wrapped in one of my socks."

He set the box on the counter with theatrical delicacy. Jon blinked. The moment had shifted.

Manny slowly, deliberately, lifted the lid.

Inside the box was a necklace. Not flashy, not modern. It had an old-world elegance—silver chain, dark metal pendant, and a single jewel that caught the light in a way that made Jon slightly uncomfortable. It didn't sparkle. It… glinted. Like it had thoughts.

Gloria turned.

She saw the necklace.

And gasped.

Not the kind of polite gasp you give when someone tells you their cousin got engaged. No. This was the kind of gasp you reserve for discovering your husband's secret second family, or learning your long-lost twin was actually your enemy all along. A gasp that stopped the room.

"¡Dios mío! That necklace!" she said, voice full of disbelief and terror.

Jon slowly put down his fork, eyes narrowing. "Okay… that is not a good tone. That's a 'we're cursed now' tone. Or at least a 'someone's about to start crying before breakfast' tone."

Gloria crossed the kitchen in two swift steps, hand to her chest, eyes locked on the necklace.

"I thought it was gone," she said. "I thought I lost it forever. It belonged to my great-aunt back in Colombia. And it is cursed."

Jay, still gripping his coffee, let out a familiar groan. It was the deep, ancestral groan of a man who had been through this kind of story before. Possibly many, many times.

"Oh, great," he muttered. "Here comes another one—haunted furniture, possessed birds, that stupid doll that made your cousin go bald."

"It wasn't stupid, Jay!" Gloria snapped, spinning on her heel. "And don't mock! Every time someone wore this necklace, something bad happened. Real bad. My cousin Carla? Slipped on a churro, broke her wrist. My uncle Tito? Attacked by bees. BEES, Jay. You think bees just happen?!"

"Yes," Jay said flatly, eyes already halfway rolled. "That is exactly what bees do."

"Not those bees," Gloria hissed ominously.

Meanwhile, Manny stood frozen, eyes flicking between his mother and the velvet box like he'd just summoned a spirit by accident. "I didn't even know I had it," he said quickly. "I was looking for my poetry journal, and it was just… there. Tucked inside a sock. A clean sock. But still."

Jon, still munching toast, raised a hand like he was stepping cautiously into a minefield. "Okay, not to play the skeptic here—"

"Which you are," Jay interrupted dryly.

"—but maybe instead of debating ancient Colombian curses before breakfast, we just put the necklace back in the box and move on with our day?"

Jay snorted and stood, squaring his shoulders with the bravado of a man about to wrestle a gator. Or worse—debate Gloria.

"You people actually believe this?" he said, gesturing dramatically. "I'm not afraid of some antique necklace. I'll wear the damn thing. Right now. I'll prove to you that curses aren't real."

"Jay, no!" Gloria lunged.

Too late.

The clasp clicked shut around Jay's neck with a finality that made even the toaster hesitate before popping.

Everyone froze.

Gloria crossed herself. "Why would you mock the spirits, Jay? Why?"

"Because the spirits don't pay the mortgage," Jay replied with grim confidence.

Jon let out a long sigh and leaned back in his chair. "Okay. Well. Just for the record, I officially advised against this. Also for the record, Gloria pre-coffee is already kind of terrifying. Now we're adding ancient supernatural vengeance to the mix."

Jay sat back down, completely unfazed, and took a bite of bacon with the smugness of a man who thought gravity was optional.

Then his fork slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor.

Gloria gasped—again.

"The first sign!" she cried.

"That's not a sign, that's physics," Jay grumbled.

Manny, suddenly animated, yanked a notebook out of seemingly nowhere and began scribbling furiously. "This might be the opportunity of a lifetime—an actual cursed object in a suburban setting. We could document this! Jay could be ground zero. I'll monitor everything: heart rate, temperature, sudden bursts of rage—"

Jay narrowed his eyes. "If you try to strap one of your little science fair monitors to me, I will personally throw it into the pool."

Jon leaned in again, looking between them all with the expression of a man who knew better but somehow always found himself caught in the storm. "Look, I don't believe in curses. But I also believe in not antagonizing Gloria. Can we please just take the necklace off and pretend all of this never happened?"

Jay said nothing. He just crunched on another piece of toast like a man who dared the spirits to mess with him.

Gloria muttered a prayer under her breath.

Manny wrote the words SYMPTOM LOG: DAY 1 in bold, excited strokes.

And Jon—dear Jon—glanced around the room, shook his head slowly, and sighed. "I just wanted scrambled eggs…"

And so, the cursed necklace saga began.

Jon didn't know what was coming. He didn't want to know. But if he had to place a bet on how this week was going to go?

He was absolutely certain of one thing:

If Jay so much as sneezed, stubbed his toe, or spilled his coffee…

Gloria was never, ever going to let him forget it.