Favorite Son
The Intense Humming Of Evil
A/N: Hey, it's me again. I'm back. basically, 'less than zero' story. next generation, yadda yadda, yadda. this chapter is dedicated to my friends, who never understand, but always listen. anyhoo, enjoy.
"So, what does that make you?"
"I guess... That make's me the favorite son..."
"You guess?" I'm staring at the girl talking to me. I don't know - care?- what her name is, and she has no distiguesable features. She's blonde, tan, and pretty, just like every other girl at the party, just like any other fuck. She reaches for something in her pocket, and i'm panting like a fucking dog in heat. She pulls out a vial, and seeing her hold that, makes her a thousand times more attractive. My usual dealer, Spud, is in Europe. Fuck knows why, but it leaves me in the difficult situation of buying shit coke from unknown dealers. The girl, this saviour angel, pulls out a hand mirror, and a twenty. shes saying words, words that i have no intrest in. the only thing that matters now is that vial. The girl shakes out the entire content on to the hand mirror, and, using a credit card, i watch hungerly as she cuts it in to four huge lines. She snorts one, then transfers the rolled up twenty to her other nostral. She takes her second line back with the same practised ease, and then hands me the tube. I take both hits in the same nostral, and let my head rock back. i open my mouth to thank the girl, but the only thing that comes out is a low, strangled laugh. For a moment, i'm scared, stunned. Then time moves again, and the girl is stradaling my lap, and sucking on my neck. i move my hands so i'm cupping her ass, and whisper in her ear that my house would be empty. She smiles, we leave the party, and head towards my brand new Jag.
Its monday morning, and i'm siting in my car smoking before homeroom. My best friend Harry was shooting some commersial, so i had to hotbox my car on my own. I felt particularily rough after the night i had, and the valium i had stolen from my mother had yet to have an effect. i look at the clock, and seeing i still have ten minuits until i have to get in to school, i turn the CD player on. my Manic Street Prechers CD was in there, and i put it on track 12. I sit back, and close my eye, and listen to that single track. i am so absorbed in the song, that when Flissie knocks on my window,i jump a fucking foot in the air. Shes standing there, all hip bones and attitude, and motions for me to get out the car. i swear, turn off the ignition, and get out of the car. i still have the joint hanging out of my mouth, and Flissie takes it, and stubs it out.
"that shit'll kill you Mattie." i want to tell her to fuck off, and leave my life alone. i want to grab her, and fuck her over the bonnet of my Jag. as long as i've known Flissie, i've wanted to do those two things. Flissies gorgeous, about five foot, uber skinny, face like an angel and tits like cherries. Most guys in the school want to fuck her brains out, but shes closed for business. saving herself for marriage, which, if you ask me, is a fucking shame.
"Maybe you should try it, get that fucking stick from out your ass" So i can get something else up there. She laughs, and hooks her arm around my waist, and i put my arm around her skinny little shoulders. we walk like that in to the school, and i feel saint valium taking its sweet effect. Just in time really, as the first sight that greets us is that blonde girl from the party on saturday. She looks at me pleadingly, and i just walk past with Flissie, ignoring her. i feel a twing somewhere in the vicinity of my concience, guilt i think, and i ignore that too.
it's tuesday, and i'm in the school bathrooms with Harry. we're sharing a cubical, and i'm staring at the top of his well groomed blonde head. He snorts two lines, and is jabbering on about some club. We should go for my birthday on saturday, hes saying, as he blindly groaps for the paper dispencer. i wonder what he's doing, but dismiss it. its my job to listen out for the bell, and i hit Harry when it goes off. He turns around, and he's pressing a whole stack of tissue against his nostral, and its dreanched in blood. I want to ask if he's okay, if there was anything i could do. But my mouth runs away with me, and all i say is
"What a fucking waste."
its tuesday night, and hot as hell. the city feels like its on fire, and im too hot to go and find any sleeping pills in this godforsaken house. im laying naked on my bed, with sweat soaking the sheet beneath me. i can hear my sisters splashing in the pool outside, and jealousey is eating at my heart, and i curse my own stupidity for not thinking of it first. my father is out of town on business, and my mother had a late dinner meeting to attend. i wish they would both just say that their fucking other people, but they prefer to hide behind gilted lies to save the family grief. just as i work up the energy to get up and maybe find something to take, i hear the door slam. speak of the cheating whore. i can hear her giggling and talking. the man with her is calling her name. i forgot she was called Blair. or maybe i just never cared. the man says something else, and i laugh. i laugh so hard that my bed shakes, and i feel my fucking lungs compress. the voice belongs to my godfather, julian. but the really fucking funny thing? The thing that makes me lose my mind? when my mothers away, julian's the one keeping my father 'entertained'. only in L-fucking-A.
"So, what does that make you?"
"I guess... That make's me the favorite son..."
"You guess?" I'm staring at the girl talking to me. I don't know - care?- what her name is, and she has no distiguesable features. She's blonde, tan, and pretty, just like every other girl at the party, just like any other fuck. She reaches for something in her pocket, and i'm panting like a fucking dog in heat. She pulls out a vial, and seeing her hold that, makes her a thousand times more attractive. My usual dealer, Spud, is in Europe. Fuck knows why, but it leaves me in the difficult situation of buying shit coke from unknown dealers. The girl, this saviour angel, pulls out a hand mirror, and a twenty. shes saying words, words that i have no intrest in. the only thing that matters now is that vial. The girl shakes out the entire content on to the hand mirror, and, using a credit card, i watch hungerly as she cuts it in to four huge lines. She snorts one, then transfers the rolled up twenty to her other nostral. She takes her second line back with the same practised ease, and then hands me the tube. I take both hits in the same nostral, and let my head rock back. i open my mouth to thank the girl, but the only thing that comes out is a low, strangled laugh. For a moment, i'm scared, stunned. Then time moves again, and the girl is stradaling my lap, and sucking on my neck. i move my hands so i'm cupping her ass, and whisper in her ear that my house would be empty. She smiles, we leave the party, and head towards my brand new Jag.
Its monday morning, and i'm siting in my car smoking before homeroom. My best friend Harry was shooting some commersial, so i had to hotbox my car on my own. I felt particularily rough after the night i had, and the valium i had stolen from my mother had yet to have an effect. i look at the clock, and seeing i still have ten minuits until i have to get in to school, i turn the CD player on. my Manic Street Prechers CD was in there, and i put it on track 12. I sit back, and close my eye, and listen to that single track. i am so absorbed in the song, that when Flissie knocks on my window,i jump a fucking foot in the air. Shes standing there, all hip bones and attitude, and motions for me to get out the car. i swear, turn off the ignition, and get out of the car. i still have the joint hanging out of my mouth, and Flissie takes it, and stubs it out.
"that shit'll kill you Mattie." i want to tell her to fuck off, and leave my life alone. i want to grab her, and fuck her over the bonnet of my Jag. as long as i've known Flissie, i've wanted to do those two things. Flissies gorgeous, about five foot, uber skinny, face like an angel and tits like cherries. Most guys in the school want to fuck her brains out, but shes closed for business. saving herself for marriage, which, if you ask me, is a fucking shame.
"Maybe you should try it, get that fucking stick from out your ass" So i can get something else up there. She laughs, and hooks her arm around my waist, and i put my arm around her skinny little shoulders. we walk like that in to the school, and i feel saint valium taking its sweet effect. Just in time really, as the first sight that greets us is that blonde girl from the party on saturday. She looks at me pleadingly, and i just walk past with Flissie, ignoring her. i feel a twing somewhere in the vicinity of my concience, guilt i think, and i ignore that too.
it's tuesday, and i'm in the school bathrooms with Harry. we're sharing a cubical, and i'm staring at the top of his well groomed blonde head. He snorts two lines, and is jabbering on about some club. We should go for my birthday on saturday, hes saying, as he blindly groaps for the paper dispencer. i wonder what he's doing, but dismiss it. its my job to listen out for the bell, and i hit Harry when it goes off. He turns around, and he's pressing a whole stack of tissue against his nostral, and its dreanched in blood. I want to ask if he's okay, if there was anything i could do. But my mouth runs away with me, and all i say is
"What a fucking waste."
its tuesday night, and hot as hell. the city feels like its on fire, and im too hot to go and find any sleeping pills in this godforsaken house. im laying naked on my bed, with sweat soaking the sheet beneath me. i can hear my sisters splashing in the pool outside, and jealousey is eating at my heart, and i curse my own stupidity for not thinking of it first. my father is out of town on business, and my mother had a late dinner meeting to attend. i wish they would both just say that their fucking other people, but they prefer to hide behind gilted lies to save the family grief. just as i work up the energy to get up and maybe find something to take, i hear the door slam. speak of the cheating whore. i can hear her giggling and talking. the man with her is calling her name. i forgot she was called Blair. or maybe i just never cared. the man says something else, and i laugh. i laugh so hard that my bed shakes, and i feel my fucking lungs compress. the voice belongs to my godfather, julian. but the really fucking funny thing? The thing that makes me lose my mind? when my mothers away, julian's the one keeping my father 'entertained'. only in L-fucking-A.
♠ ♠ ♠
A/N: okay, response? this is the first story i've written in this style, and i hope i pulled it off. please be kind, or not. depends how you like it...