Let's Burn Our Dreams Into the Skyline
Let's blow this Popsicle stand.
Sleep is a rather pointless concept. Alongside, bathing, and eating, and hygiene. Sleep just…isn’t important.
So what do I do? I stay up and listen to Gabe mumble about his goldfish “Monty”.
Sleep. Sleep. Sleep? Should I sleep? No. Sleep’s stupid. Isn’t it?
I think I’m going insane, if I’m not already.
Maybe it’s the sugar. Fuck you sweetness.
***
“SEX!”
“What?!” I screeched, immediately waking up from the sleep I had finally fallen into.
“Told you she’d wake up.” Gabe laughed at Pete. I rolled my eyes. People are sick.
“What time is it?”
“Three.” Linnea replied.
“Like in the afternoon?”
“No shit.” Pete spat. I glared at him and immediately jumped up from the I-don’t-know-what-the-hell-that-is-stained bed.
“Where’s everyone else?” I inquired, brushing my teeth and running around trying to get ready.
“Excellent question.” Gabe pointed out.
“Does it get an excellent answer?” I asked hopefully.
“No.” Gabe said bluntly.
I sighed and continued to get dressed.
***
“Can we do something today?” I asked around 6 o’clock. We had managed to keep ourselves busy for three hours watching cartoons. We were halfway through an episode of Tom and Jerry by now. We had just finished a steaming debate about which was cooler, the cat or the mouse. The mouse (naturally) had just won.
“Like?” Pete said.
“Party?” Gabe suggested. Now there’s a plan.
“I’m up for it.” I announced, getting up from my seat on the trashy couch.
“And we’re going to ‘party’ how exactly?” Pete cocked a brow.
“Does Chicago not have clubs?”
“Yeah.” He said “Clubs you have to be eighteen to get into.”
“We can find a way around that. When do they open?”
“Late. Maybe 10.”
“Okay.” I told him, my eyes darting around the room trying to figure away to keep myself busy. My eyes landed on the pink-checkered backpack I had stuffed all of my things into. I ran over to it and started pawing through my things. It had to be in here somewhere…
“Found it!” I announced proudly, discovering the old-school camera I had brought with me. It was (I guess you could call it) vintage. It used to be my mom’s. She was a photographer. It’s awesome. Our basement is like a photo shoot. I want to be a photographer too. I’m so into art-like stuff. My mom’s not so hot on the idea, though.
“And what will you do with that..?” Pete looked at me oddly (as usual).
“Porn!?” Linnea asked excitedly.
“You wish.” I mumbled, snapping some random pictures.
“Why?” Pete kept asking, as I hovered over him, taking shot after shot.
“I dunno. I’m bored.” I got some rather fabulous pictures of him holding his hands over his face, and even fabulouser ( Yes, I am fully aware that isn't a word.) ones of Gabe posing for me.
As time rolled on, everyone started to get ready. Except me of course. I was having too much fun. Who knew these people were such great, freakish models?
I took a picture of Steph, slipping on her shoes, picture of Linnea applying her make-up in the mirror, one of Patrick, sitting on the bed waiting for everyone to get ready, then one of Gabe jumping on Patrick as he waited, a few of Alex and Ryland doing God knows what, and I attempted to get one of Pete arguing with the hotel owner. They refused to pose for the shot.
***
“Well, Max. If Linnea can ever decide what shoes she’s going to wear than we can leave.” He told me, trying to hint to her.
“Oh, I see. She should hurry up then.” It was kind of funny. We were physically talking to each other, but she was meant to hear it.
“Okay! Okay!” she screamed, walking out the door and locking it behind her. “Let’s blow this Popsicle stand!” She said, shoving her fist in the air out of enthusiasm. I began to wonder where the phrase “Let’s blow this Popsicle stand” came from, as she dragged me by my wrist down the bustling streets.
So what do I do? I stay up and listen to Gabe mumble about his goldfish “Monty”.
Sleep. Sleep. Sleep? Should I sleep? No. Sleep’s stupid. Isn’t it?
I think I’m going insane, if I’m not already.
Maybe it’s the sugar. Fuck you sweetness.
***
“SEX!”
“What?!” I screeched, immediately waking up from the sleep I had finally fallen into.
“Told you she’d wake up.” Gabe laughed at Pete. I rolled my eyes. People are sick.
“What time is it?”
“Three.” Linnea replied.
“Like in the afternoon?”
“No shit.” Pete spat. I glared at him and immediately jumped up from the I-don’t-know-what-the-hell-that-is-stained bed.
“Where’s everyone else?” I inquired, brushing my teeth and running around trying to get ready.
“Excellent question.” Gabe pointed out.
“Does it get an excellent answer?” I asked hopefully.
“No.” Gabe said bluntly.
I sighed and continued to get dressed.
***
“Can we do something today?” I asked around 6 o’clock. We had managed to keep ourselves busy for three hours watching cartoons. We were halfway through an episode of Tom and Jerry by now. We had just finished a steaming debate about which was cooler, the cat or the mouse. The mouse (naturally) had just won.
“Like?” Pete said.
“Party?” Gabe suggested. Now there’s a plan.
“I’m up for it.” I announced, getting up from my seat on the trashy couch.
“And we’re going to ‘party’ how exactly?” Pete cocked a brow.
“Does Chicago not have clubs?”
“Yeah.” He said “Clubs you have to be eighteen to get into.”
“We can find a way around that. When do they open?”
“Late. Maybe 10.”
“Okay.” I told him, my eyes darting around the room trying to figure away to keep myself busy. My eyes landed on the pink-checkered backpack I had stuffed all of my things into. I ran over to it and started pawing through my things. It had to be in here somewhere…
“Found it!” I announced proudly, discovering the old-school camera I had brought with me. It was (I guess you could call it) vintage. It used to be my mom’s. She was a photographer. It’s awesome. Our basement is like a photo shoot. I want to be a photographer too. I’m so into art-like stuff. My mom’s not so hot on the idea, though.
“And what will you do with that..?” Pete looked at me oddly (as usual).
“Porn!?” Linnea asked excitedly.
“You wish.” I mumbled, snapping some random pictures.
“Why?” Pete kept asking, as I hovered over him, taking shot after shot.
“I dunno. I’m bored.” I got some rather fabulous pictures of him holding his hands over his face, and even fabulouser ( Yes, I am fully aware that isn't a word.) ones of Gabe posing for me.
As time rolled on, everyone started to get ready. Except me of course. I was having too much fun. Who knew these people were such great, freakish models?
I took a picture of Steph, slipping on her shoes, picture of Linnea applying her make-up in the mirror, one of Patrick, sitting on the bed waiting for everyone to get ready, then one of Gabe jumping on Patrick as he waited, a few of Alex and Ryland doing God knows what, and I attempted to get one of Pete arguing with the hotel owner. They refused to pose for the shot.
***
“Well, Max. If Linnea can ever decide what shoes she’s going to wear than we can leave.” He told me, trying to hint to her.
“Oh, I see. She should hurry up then.” It was kind of funny. We were physically talking to each other, but she was meant to hear it.
“Okay! Okay!” she screamed, walking out the door and locking it behind her. “Let’s blow this Popsicle stand!” She said, shoving her fist in the air out of enthusiasm. I began to wonder where the phrase “Let’s blow this Popsicle stand” came from, as she dragged me by my wrist down the bustling streets.
♠ ♠ ♠
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