Categories > Original > Drama > Lola
I half stumbled-half ran down the church steps, making good my escape.
I assumed Ethan would be helped off of the floor, his nose plugged, and the funeral would commence.
I didn't care if anyone thought less of me in there. Majority of the mass were simple idiots, who say they are cultured, well versed, and a good friend. They are nothing more than whiny, spoiled, self centered, starbucks chugging, richy rich, yuppies, who want nothing more than the finest things in life.
I was always considered an outcast in the circle, it was Hunter and Ethan who even got me involved with the happenings of the Maryland literary culture. Now looking back, I can't believe I fell into the quagmire cespool of their mannerisms.
You have to be rich, gone to a great ivy league school, be able to quote a cliche' writer offhand, and drink only the richest starbucks, and the fullest of wines.
Since when did your habits and customs depict wether or not you're a good writer or not?! Such ludacris, to put writing and such under such a close nosed criteria based on the thickness of your wallet the depth of your pockets!
I stopped at the bottom of the steps, looking back at the thick solid oak doors of the church. I didn't care for religion, or churches, or anything that involved a person to change face in the presence of another, real or alleged.
Echo came scuffling out of those doors, her face calm. She reached me, and before I could utter a word to her, she slapped me hard across the face. My busted lip re-opened, more blood dribbling out.
It took everything in me to keep myself from shaking the piss out of her.
"What?! Now you want to defend your conniving little shit of a boyfriend?! Now you want to stand by him while he's a dick?! Well fuck him, and fuck you!" I said, spitting blood onto the sidewalk.
She went to slap me again, a look of anger and disgust painted her face behind those sunglasses. I shot her a look of consequence, narrow eyed and challenging. She slowly lowered her upraised open hand, returning it to her side.
"Go back inside, and finish wiping your corrupt lover's wounds. I'm done with you guys."
I said bitterly, turning away to leave.
"Tyler wait!" Gwen shouted, appearing at the top of the stairway.
It began to rain. It always seems to rain on funerals. Someone once told me, it was God crying. I believe it's a simple factor of moisture and precipitation in the air.
Gwen stood there, looking sadly at me, shaking her head.
Echo stared at me, then at Gwen, smirked, and began her ascent back up the stairs.
I assumed Ethan would be helped off of the floor, his nose plugged, and the funeral would commence.
I didn't care if anyone thought less of me in there. Majority of the mass were simple idiots, who say they are cultured, well versed, and a good friend. They are nothing more than whiny, spoiled, self centered, starbucks chugging, richy rich, yuppies, who want nothing more than the finest things in life.
I was always considered an outcast in the circle, it was Hunter and Ethan who even got me involved with the happenings of the Maryland literary culture. Now looking back, I can't believe I fell into the quagmire cespool of their mannerisms.
You have to be rich, gone to a great ivy league school, be able to quote a cliche' writer offhand, and drink only the richest starbucks, and the fullest of wines.
Since when did your habits and customs depict wether or not you're a good writer or not?! Such ludacris, to put writing and such under such a close nosed criteria based on the thickness of your wallet the depth of your pockets!
I stopped at the bottom of the steps, looking back at the thick solid oak doors of the church. I didn't care for religion, or churches, or anything that involved a person to change face in the presence of another, real or alleged.
Echo came scuffling out of those doors, her face calm. She reached me, and before I could utter a word to her, she slapped me hard across the face. My busted lip re-opened, more blood dribbling out.
It took everything in me to keep myself from shaking the piss out of her.
"What?! Now you want to defend your conniving little shit of a boyfriend?! Now you want to stand by him while he's a dick?! Well fuck him, and fuck you!" I said, spitting blood onto the sidewalk.
She went to slap me again, a look of anger and disgust painted her face behind those sunglasses. I shot her a look of consequence, narrow eyed and challenging. She slowly lowered her upraised open hand, returning it to her side.
"Go back inside, and finish wiping your corrupt lover's wounds. I'm done with you guys."
I said bitterly, turning away to leave.
"Tyler wait!" Gwen shouted, appearing at the top of the stairway.
It began to rain. It always seems to rain on funerals. Someone once told me, it was God crying. I believe it's a simple factor of moisture and precipitation in the air.
Gwen stood there, looking sadly at me, shaking her head.
Echo stared at me, then at Gwen, smirked, and began her ascent back up the stairs.
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