Let's Burn Our Dreams Into the Skyline
Pink and Wentzy; Deadly Combination?
“Buttons!” Max screeched, swerving in her seat and slamming into all of us who were sitting on the couch. Pete fell off, I laughed until I promptly joined him on the popcorn filled carpet. Stump and Alex took both of our seats while we were busy glaring and laughing at each other.
“Hmmfph” I grunted, blowing the bangs out of my face yet again. They always wind up in my face and the hairs get in my eyes and make them watery. Rawr.
“Let’s go to the movies!” Steph screamed, jumping around the room.
“YES!” I agreed, jumping up from the floor.
“No!” Ryland groaned, throwing a soda can at me. Tsk. Tsk. What is with teenage boys and throwing shit at my head? I glared.
“Not nice, Ryland.”
“Am I ever nice?”
I thought about it. “Meh… no, never.”
“I don’t want to see a shitty movie.” Pete growled, burying his face into his hand. I dropped down on my knees and crawled over to him.
“Please?” I said softly, batting my eyelashes and pouting while I repeatedly poked him.
“No.”
“Please?” I repeated, louder.
“Fuck off.” He slapped me away.
“Rawr. PMS,” I giggled, plopping myself in Max’s lap. I was hyper to the 18th power. She licked my face and joined in on the giggling.
"It’s a good thing Linnea and I can't have babies. That would be scary." Max commented, putting her arms around my waist.
“Oh god!” Gabe gasped, imagining the idea of our love child, “They would be … pink and Wentzy.”
“The best combination ever.” I mumbled.
In the long run, we decided to go to the movies, because mama Wentz was home and had a tendency to act overly excited around our circle of friends. Y’know, she would make us brownies and shit and pour us milk. Oddly enough, when we were young enough to appreciate this shit, she was always at work or too busy to care what the hell Pete and me were doing. Now, when we want to be neglected, she’s constantly up our ass. I’ll never understand the complicated mind of Grace Wentz, no matter how hard I try.
“Hmmfph” I grunted, blowing the bangs out of my face yet again. They always wind up in my face and the hairs get in my eyes and make them watery. Rawr.
“Let’s go to the movies!” Steph screamed, jumping around the room.
“YES!” I agreed, jumping up from the floor.
“No!” Ryland groaned, throwing a soda can at me. Tsk. Tsk. What is with teenage boys and throwing shit at my head? I glared.
“Not nice, Ryland.”
“Am I ever nice?”
I thought about it. “Meh… no, never.”
“I don’t want to see a shitty movie.” Pete growled, burying his face into his hand. I dropped down on my knees and crawled over to him.
“Please?” I said softly, batting my eyelashes and pouting while I repeatedly poked him.
“No.”
“Please?” I repeated, louder.
“Fuck off.” He slapped me away.
“Rawr. PMS,” I giggled, plopping myself in Max’s lap. I was hyper to the 18th power. She licked my face and joined in on the giggling.
"It’s a good thing Linnea and I can't have babies. That would be scary." Max commented, putting her arms around my waist.
“Oh god!” Gabe gasped, imagining the idea of our love child, “They would be … pink and Wentzy.”
“The best combination ever.” I mumbled.
In the long run, we decided to go to the movies, because mama Wentz was home and had a tendency to act overly excited around our circle of friends. Y’know, she would make us brownies and shit and pour us milk. Oddly enough, when we were young enough to appreciate this shit, she was always at work or too busy to care what the hell Pete and me were doing. Now, when we want to be neglected, she’s constantly up our ass. I’ll never understand the complicated mind of Grace Wentz, no matter how hard I try.