Status: jeph. says: Will be updated as soon as I get my computer back. Stupid store, said two weeks. -_-
Cinema.
Dinner Party.
I was ready to stab my eyes out using the little bitty fork for my salad and big one used for my entrée. I completely missed the conversation going on for fifteen minutes now, because I was busy. Busy staring at the painting on the opposite wall, the light switch, and the door. I was rotating.
"Single?" I looked up after realizing that someone had directed a question towards me.
"Huh?" I said, sitting up. Cheryl pressed her palm to her face, her fingers opened slightly to make room for her nose. She could smell dinner cooking from the house on the next block with that thing. Probably. Her friend asked me the question again.
"I said, are you still single?" I put my elbows on the table and twirled my butter knife into the table cloth. Cheryl removed her hand from her face and gave me a look that said, 'Rose, get your fucking elbows off of the table, put your silverware down, and stop embarrassing me, goddammit.'
"Yes. Yes I am," I said, removing my elbows from in front of me and putting them to my sides.
"Why do you think that is?" I didn't really understand why this chick I didn't know was grilling me on my love life. The price you pay for relocating to Los Angeles and staying with your social butterfly of a cousin.
"I'm not sure. If you figure it out before I do though, please give me a call. I just feel so lonely…all the time. I just want to know what it feels like to be held at night, you know?" My eyes watered, and turned my head away from the table. I sighed and blotted my eyes with my napkin.
"Oh…I'm so sorry, I didn't know it was such a sensitive subject for you," I could tell by the tone of her voice that the lady felt like a total asshole now. I didn't have to look, but I knew Cheryl was glaring at me.
"She's fine," Cheryl said, sipping her glass of champagne. I sniffed and sat correctly to the table.
"Yes, I'm sorry. I normally don't get so upset about that…" I said, blotting my eyes one more time for effect.
"No dear, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pried," she said, looking down. Damn right, bitch. Mind your business.
"What's your name again?" A man sitting next to Cheryl asked me.
"Roosevelt," I said. I knew what was coming next.
"Roosevelt? Like the president? That's odd…it's a surname…" Well obviously, it isn't anymore.
"My parents were very creative," I said. "If I could talk then, I would have asked for a name like, I dunno, Cheryl."
My cousin rolled her eyes. I made fun of her name all the time. Sounded like a librarian to me. Or a news anchor. Then I thought about the whore named Cheryl in Archie comics.
"Do your parents live back where you came from? What was it? Indiana…?" he asked, staring at me intently as if he were interviewing me for a cover story. Cheryl must have told them I was a nut job or something, hence why they were so interested in me. They want me to do something crazy.
"My parents were shot dead when I was fifteen," I said, sipping my drink. And, the second guest tonight that I've made feel like a dick.
"Oh…I'm so sorry…" he looked down at his plate. I guessed he was done talking now. I looked over at Cheryl, who once again had her face in her palm.
They were staring at me now, trying to figure me out. Cheryl definitely said something. If I had been finished getting dressed on time for this party, she wouldn't have had time to say anything. Now, here they were, staring at me, saying with their big eyes, 'Do something crazy, please. We wanna see.'
I got up, stood on the table and kicked my champagne flute across the room. It shattered against the painting.
"I AM NOT A FUCKING ZOO ANIMAL, CHERYL, YOU RIVERDALE WHORE." With that, I hopped off the table and ran down the hall to my bedroom. She was going to slaughter me.
"Single?" I looked up after realizing that someone had directed a question towards me.
"Huh?" I said, sitting up. Cheryl pressed her palm to her face, her fingers opened slightly to make room for her nose. She could smell dinner cooking from the house on the next block with that thing. Probably. Her friend asked me the question again.
"I said, are you still single?" I put my elbows on the table and twirled my butter knife into the table cloth. Cheryl removed her hand from her face and gave me a look that said, 'Rose, get your fucking elbows off of the table, put your silverware down, and stop embarrassing me, goddammit.'
"Yes. Yes I am," I said, removing my elbows from in front of me and putting them to my sides.
"Why do you think that is?" I didn't really understand why this chick I didn't know was grilling me on my love life. The price you pay for relocating to Los Angeles and staying with your social butterfly of a cousin.
"I'm not sure. If you figure it out before I do though, please give me a call. I just feel so lonely…all the time. I just want to know what it feels like to be held at night, you know?" My eyes watered, and turned my head away from the table. I sighed and blotted my eyes with my napkin.
"Oh…I'm so sorry, I didn't know it was such a sensitive subject for you," I could tell by the tone of her voice that the lady felt like a total asshole now. I didn't have to look, but I knew Cheryl was glaring at me.
"She's fine," Cheryl said, sipping her glass of champagne. I sniffed and sat correctly to the table.
"Yes, I'm sorry. I normally don't get so upset about that…" I said, blotting my eyes one more time for effect.
"No dear, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pried," she said, looking down. Damn right, bitch. Mind your business.
"What's your name again?" A man sitting next to Cheryl asked me.
"Roosevelt," I said. I knew what was coming next.
"Roosevelt? Like the president? That's odd…it's a surname…" Well obviously, it isn't anymore.
"My parents were very creative," I said. "If I could talk then, I would have asked for a name like, I dunno, Cheryl."
My cousin rolled her eyes. I made fun of her name all the time. Sounded like a librarian to me. Or a news anchor. Then I thought about the whore named Cheryl in Archie comics.
"Do your parents live back where you came from? What was it? Indiana…?" he asked, staring at me intently as if he were interviewing me for a cover story. Cheryl must have told them I was a nut job or something, hence why they were so interested in me. They want me to do something crazy.
"My parents were shot dead when I was fifteen," I said, sipping my drink. And, the second guest tonight that I've made feel like a dick.
"Oh…I'm so sorry…" he looked down at his plate. I guessed he was done talking now. I looked over at Cheryl, who once again had her face in her palm.
They were staring at me now, trying to figure me out. Cheryl definitely said something. If I had been finished getting dressed on time for this party, she wouldn't have had time to say anything. Now, here they were, staring at me, saying with their big eyes, 'Do something crazy, please. We wanna see.'
I got up, stood on the table and kicked my champagne flute across the room. It shattered against the painting.
"I AM NOT A FUCKING ZOO ANIMAL, CHERYL, YOU RIVERDALE WHORE." With that, I hopped off the table and ran down the hall to my bedroom. She was going to slaughter me.