Welcome To My World, Stranger
Alone At Home
I sigh, roll over and fall on to the floor.
Ouchies.
I stand up, rub my head and look at my wristwatch; the time now is 8:24pm.
I unlock my door, poke my head out cautiously, and listen hard for 2 minutes.
Nobody’s home.
I straighten up, open my door fully and step over a broken beer bottle; Rhiannon threw that, about five minutes after I’d been in my room with the door locked.
I skulk in to the bathroom and find my towel, which is, luckily clean; I scout around for Jack’s shampoo, and eventually find it under a pile of dirty underwear.
I open the grubby glass shower door and turn the water on; in a matter of minutes, the bathroom is foggy with steam.
Now, I don’t think you really want me to portray my shower, and I don’t really want to, either. So, I won't.
---------------------------------------------------------------
After my shower, I hang my towel up in my room and trudge downstairs; I really do like the silence, it’s nice.
I go in to the kitchen and rummage around in the pantry and fridge.
Usually there’s nothing much in the fridge and pantry that I’d eat, but today there was some orange juice in the fridge, and some bread in the pantry.
So I had orange juice and Vegemite toast for dinner.
And Chas had a few Cornflakes.
At about 9:30pm, I hear Jack’s ute pull up in the driveway. Quickly thinking, I bolt upstairs, slam my door shut and lock it.
I hear the front door open, bang close and the sound of Jack’s keys hitting the kitchen tabletop.
I breathe a sigh of releif as I also hear the all too familiar sound of beer bottles.
Getting drunk on a Friday night is a normal routine for Jack; since he doesn’t have work the next day, he can handle the hangovers…
I lie on my bed and listen to the house (and Jack downstairs); the house has its own way of speaking, and I talk to it all the time. You might think I’m crazy, but I’m not.
Remember, I’m that insane ‘Emo Kid’.
As I’m listening to the house talk about owls and striped t-shirts, I suddenly realise that something’s missing.
Chas.
I left him downstairs, in the Cornflake box.
Oh great.
Ouchies.
I stand up, rub my head and look at my wristwatch; the time now is 8:24pm.
I unlock my door, poke my head out cautiously, and listen hard for 2 minutes.
Nobody’s home.
I straighten up, open my door fully and step over a broken beer bottle; Rhiannon threw that, about five minutes after I’d been in my room with the door locked.
I skulk in to the bathroom and find my towel, which is, luckily clean; I scout around for Jack’s shampoo, and eventually find it under a pile of dirty underwear.
I open the grubby glass shower door and turn the water on; in a matter of minutes, the bathroom is foggy with steam.
Now, I don’t think you really want me to portray my shower, and I don’t really want to, either. So, I won't.
---------------------------------------------------------------
After my shower, I hang my towel up in my room and trudge downstairs; I really do like the silence, it’s nice.
I go in to the kitchen and rummage around in the pantry and fridge.
Usually there’s nothing much in the fridge and pantry that I’d eat, but today there was some orange juice in the fridge, and some bread in the pantry.
So I had orange juice and Vegemite toast for dinner.
And Chas had a few Cornflakes.
At about 9:30pm, I hear Jack’s ute pull up in the driveway. Quickly thinking, I bolt upstairs, slam my door shut and lock it.
I hear the front door open, bang close and the sound of Jack’s keys hitting the kitchen tabletop.
I breathe a sigh of releif as I also hear the all too familiar sound of beer bottles.
Getting drunk on a Friday night is a normal routine for Jack; since he doesn’t have work the next day, he can handle the hangovers…
I lie on my bed and listen to the house (and Jack downstairs); the house has its own way of speaking, and I talk to it all the time. You might think I’m crazy, but I’m not.
Remember, I’m that insane ‘Emo Kid’.
As I’m listening to the house talk about owls and striped t-shirts, I suddenly realise that something’s missing.
Chas.
I left him downstairs, in the Cornflake box.
Oh great.