Categories > Original > Humor
Wave Goodbye To The Massacred Patrons
0 reviewsI have this proclivity to do stuff, stuff that normally, people would find, well-- to be succinct, dull. People, if they were asked, would most likely me beige, not different, blend.. able into the...
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I have this proclivity to do stuff, stuff that normally, people would find, well-- to be succinct, dull. People, if they were asked, would most likely me beige, not different, blend..able into the background.
My bruise was pounding exponentially more than when I had first got it-- someone mistaking my leg for the ball. I put even more pressure on the greenish, purplish yellowish cut. It was very
attractive, I must say.
Brie wouldn't even look at me, she, of course was disgusted. Five seconds after even glancing at the attractive bruise, she immediately turned the other way and plopped onto the floor.
Once they stinging turned into almost comical heights, I released the aforementioned pressure and stared at the bruise. I smiled at the back of Brie's head and poked her shoulder, not without straining, its not like she sat right beside me.
"Are you done yet?" She calls over her shoulder, as if I would poke her if I wasn't done. Honestly.
"Yes, love," I say dryly, "you can look now."
"Okay." Her meek voice drifts around, as if I need that confirmation.
I roll down my pants before she has a chance to be disgusted at the sight of my.. oh so loutish leg.
I stretched my unstretched limbs out farther than the cross-legged position they were previously in. My legs looked short and a little.. fatter than they usually were.
These pants did not flatter me, not at all. But thats what I get when I wear clothes my aunt thought would look great on me. She's 60. Not very fashionable, who can deny a lady like that of something so small that makes her so happy?
I ask you.
"Beige," yes, they called me Beige, ironic? No. "I'm bored, bored, bored!"
"You would like me to do... what?" I ask, inspecting my nails. They were uneven and have dirt terminally embedded inside of them. I made a face.
"Dance? Read? Do some morbid finger puppets? Anything?"
I nodded my head towards the ringing door bell, "answer the door, it'll entertain you."
She glared from her position, and got up. She stood stock still for five seconds, letting the blood flow from her face, or into it. "Stood up too fast. Uups."
She took her time answering the door, all the while, the person-- obviously anxious-- rang the bell about five times the normal speed.
She brandished her arms at my incessant whining about her to open the door faster than the current turtle speed she was so rebelling.
She-- finally, finally!-- opened the door to reveal another, about 18 or so girl, with her platinum blonde hair matted to her face, her clothes a rustic sort of color-- and completely soaked with something-- she had spatters of, what was that? mud? crossed over her cheeks and residing in her ears.
"Me an' Linnet just had a mud fight." Her eyes were light with something akin to giddiness. Which was okay.
"Looks like you just murdered someone, and finished with a mass suicide." Pause. "Drowning yourself, of course."
She gave me an annoyed-- how annoyed can you be while still laughing?-- looked and kicked me on the leg. Missing just centimeters away from the unpalatable-- not that I tasted it-- bruise.
I hissed my breath and moved my leg. Cradling, like a baby, almost, my leg, I whimpered up towards her. Not that she noticed, or anything.
She fidgeted with her hair, grabbing at it. And making faces. She saw me looking at her-- probably with a curious look-- and responded. "There's, like.. a lot of spray on sunscreen caked in my hair, its so gross."
I laughed at her and pointed towards my room installed with an ever hot shower and she took up, sprinting up the stairs with a soundless sprint. Brie shifted her look away from the white walls to where the sound of the slammed door emitted.
The doorbell rang once more, cutting through the silence that had settled comfortably above our heads, this time I got up and walked to the door.
On the other side of the threshold, was someone almost identical to Gabrielle-- the girl who walked through here. Her hair was coated with sticks, mud and spray on sunscreen, her face was light with an identical grin.
"Five different people looked at me like a raving lunatic."
"Yeah? They must know you." I replied with my snazzy.. well, reply.
"Well, yeah, duh." Loved this girl.
"Come in.. Linnet, I think, at least. As long as you don't drip, mom'll bloody murder me."
"I'm not going to drip too much, love, I dried off from the 7 blocks. Its so hot out there, seriously." She replied with an exasperated groan.
She sat on her towel, crossed her legs and stared me down with a crazy glare. "So, how's the leg?"
"Its looking pretty good." I reply. I pulled my pant leg up and showed her. She stared down at it, in somewhat of an awe-stricken look.
She's a rugby player, for God's sake, they find disgusting things like funky bruises fascinating, not unlike how doctors find stethoscopes infinitely fascinating. Stereotypical, and maybe even oxymoronic.
I mean seriously, how can stethoscopes be even remotely fascinating for anything.. or anyone? For the love of God!
"I will beck, let me emphasize that word, your attention once more!" She twiddled her fingers alarmingly close to my nose and I snapped-- something like my dog is infamous to do-- and clicked my teeth warningly at her.
"At one point, respect was once so ubiquitous that it could be found in two year olds!"
My mother screams from the kitchen-- not scream, per se, but something along the lines of a feminine screech (is there such a thing of an un-feminine screech?)
"There was also a point, when privacy was so ubiquitous at one point, my mother would never scream out towards me, did that make sense? anyway, there used to be a time when you respected my privacy!" I replied with as much vivaciousness as I could.
Vivaciousness. That's also sort of contradictory, alas, while at the same time yelling.
"Yeah, well." That was the end to that conversation, and in a manner of speaking, I won.
I grinned at Linnet. "I think Gabrielle is done in the shower. Your turn."
I once again turned my attention to the neglected Brie sitting solemnly-- seriously, hands folded in the lap, staring intently at me with a look of utter concentration.
"Yeah?"
"You love ignoring me, love, don't you?"
"Succinctly so."
I heard the yelling of an emerging fight from upstairs and just wondered if Gabrielle and Linnet could go five seconds without erupting into some meaningless fight. But that was pretty fruitless.
My bruise was pounding exponentially more than when I had first got it-- someone mistaking my leg for the ball. I put even more pressure on the greenish, purplish yellowish cut. It was very
attractive, I must say.
Brie wouldn't even look at me, she, of course was disgusted. Five seconds after even glancing at the attractive bruise, she immediately turned the other way and plopped onto the floor.
Once they stinging turned into almost comical heights, I released the aforementioned pressure and stared at the bruise. I smiled at the back of Brie's head and poked her shoulder, not without straining, its not like she sat right beside me.
"Are you done yet?" She calls over her shoulder, as if I would poke her if I wasn't done. Honestly.
"Yes, love," I say dryly, "you can look now."
"Okay." Her meek voice drifts around, as if I need that confirmation.
I roll down my pants before she has a chance to be disgusted at the sight of my.. oh so loutish leg.
I stretched my unstretched limbs out farther than the cross-legged position they were previously in. My legs looked short and a little.. fatter than they usually were.
These pants did not flatter me, not at all. But thats what I get when I wear clothes my aunt thought would look great on me. She's 60. Not very fashionable, who can deny a lady like that of something so small that makes her so happy?
I ask you.
"Beige," yes, they called me Beige, ironic? No. "I'm bored, bored, bored!"
"You would like me to do... what?" I ask, inspecting my nails. They were uneven and have dirt terminally embedded inside of them. I made a face.
"Dance? Read? Do some morbid finger puppets? Anything?"
I nodded my head towards the ringing door bell, "answer the door, it'll entertain you."
She glared from her position, and got up. She stood stock still for five seconds, letting the blood flow from her face, or into it. "Stood up too fast. Uups."
She took her time answering the door, all the while, the person-- obviously anxious-- rang the bell about five times the normal speed.
She brandished her arms at my incessant whining about her to open the door faster than the current turtle speed she was so rebelling.
She-- finally, finally!-- opened the door to reveal another, about 18 or so girl, with her platinum blonde hair matted to her face, her clothes a rustic sort of color-- and completely soaked with something-- she had spatters of, what was that? mud? crossed over her cheeks and residing in her ears.
"Me an' Linnet just had a mud fight." Her eyes were light with something akin to giddiness. Which was okay.
"Looks like you just murdered someone, and finished with a mass suicide." Pause. "Drowning yourself, of course."
She gave me an annoyed-- how annoyed can you be while still laughing?-- looked and kicked me on the leg. Missing just centimeters away from the unpalatable-- not that I tasted it-- bruise.
I hissed my breath and moved my leg. Cradling, like a baby, almost, my leg, I whimpered up towards her. Not that she noticed, or anything.
She fidgeted with her hair, grabbing at it. And making faces. She saw me looking at her-- probably with a curious look-- and responded. "There's, like.. a lot of spray on sunscreen caked in my hair, its so gross."
I laughed at her and pointed towards my room installed with an ever hot shower and she took up, sprinting up the stairs with a soundless sprint. Brie shifted her look away from the white walls to where the sound of the slammed door emitted.
The doorbell rang once more, cutting through the silence that had settled comfortably above our heads, this time I got up and walked to the door.
On the other side of the threshold, was someone almost identical to Gabrielle-- the girl who walked through here. Her hair was coated with sticks, mud and spray on sunscreen, her face was light with an identical grin.
"Five different people looked at me like a raving lunatic."
"Yeah? They must know you." I replied with my snazzy.. well, reply.
"Well, yeah, duh." Loved this girl.
"Come in.. Linnet, I think, at least. As long as you don't drip, mom'll bloody murder me."
"I'm not going to drip too much, love, I dried off from the 7 blocks. Its so hot out there, seriously." She replied with an exasperated groan.
She sat on her towel, crossed her legs and stared me down with a crazy glare. "So, how's the leg?"
"Its looking pretty good." I reply. I pulled my pant leg up and showed her. She stared down at it, in somewhat of an awe-stricken look.
She's a rugby player, for God's sake, they find disgusting things like funky bruises fascinating, not unlike how doctors find stethoscopes infinitely fascinating. Stereotypical, and maybe even oxymoronic.
I mean seriously, how can stethoscopes be even remotely fascinating for anything.. or anyone? For the love of God!
"I will beck, let me emphasize that word, your attention once more!" She twiddled her fingers alarmingly close to my nose and I snapped-- something like my dog is infamous to do-- and clicked my teeth warningly at her.
"At one point, respect was once so ubiquitous that it could be found in two year olds!"
My mother screams from the kitchen-- not scream, per se, but something along the lines of a feminine screech (is there such a thing of an un-feminine screech?)
"There was also a point, when privacy was so ubiquitous at one point, my mother would never scream out towards me, did that make sense? anyway, there used to be a time when you respected my privacy!" I replied with as much vivaciousness as I could.
Vivaciousness. That's also sort of contradictory, alas, while at the same time yelling.
"Yeah, well." That was the end to that conversation, and in a manner of speaking, I won.
I grinned at Linnet. "I think Gabrielle is done in the shower. Your turn."
I once again turned my attention to the neglected Brie sitting solemnly-- seriously, hands folded in the lap, staring intently at me with a look of utter concentration.
"Yeah?"
"You love ignoring me, love, don't you?"
"Succinctly so."
I heard the yelling of an emerging fight from upstairs and just wondered if Gabrielle and Linnet could go five seconds without erupting into some meaningless fight. But that was pretty fruitless.
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