I've Got to Stop Calling Those 1-800 Numbers
Two ;;
I licked my orange Cheeto's stained fingers as I walked upstairs and to the front door. A UPS man in an ugly brown button up shirt and equally hideous shorts stood outside with a huge as hell box.
Though any normal person would have been nervous as to what was in that six foor tall box, I was still staring at the guys shorts. Wasn't it a tad bit too cold for shorts in January?
"See something you like?"
What the fuck? I gave him a look of disgust while I furrowed my eyebrows in contempt. "Dude, I'm sixteen, and no, I don't see anything I like."
The bastard just rolled his eyes and thrusted a clipboard in my face. "Just sign so I can go home."
"So you can go jack off to your thirty second porn clips off the internet, then lie alone in your bed in denial and repeat your nighttime mantra, 'I am attractive, I am good-looking'? I retorted while quickly scribbling my name onto the sheet. I couldn't help but notice that I was the sixty-ninth person to sign - I should have taken this as an omen (good or bad? don't ask) but no, little naive me just shrugged it off and tried not to look at the now very angry UPS guy standing in front of me. He snatched his clipboard and started to walk away.
"Wait! How am I gonna get this inside?" I yelled over to him, but apparently he decided to ignore me and drove off into his company's brown and white truck into the night.
I looked at the box and groaned. Now, I'm not a big person for sixteen; I'm pretty thin, I guess and I'm five frrt exactly. Plus, I'm also energetically handicapped so it took me about a good hour to get the damn box inside and into the kitchen.
I turned the lights on and grabbed a knife from the cupboard, taking a shaky breath I slowly cut through the tape, but before I even got to the end something - or more like someone - attacked me.
Or more like my face, to be politically correct.
On January 25th, 2008 at 9:32 PM Eastern Time - my brain shut down, my body became lifeless and William Beckett was kissing me on the mouth.
God, are you there? It's me, Sahina. Thank you, thank you so fucking much.
Though any normal person would have been nervous as to what was in that six foor tall box, I was still staring at the guys shorts. Wasn't it a tad bit too cold for shorts in January?
"See something you like?"
What the fuck? I gave him a look of disgust while I furrowed my eyebrows in contempt. "Dude, I'm sixteen, and no, I don't see anything I like."
The bastard just rolled his eyes and thrusted a clipboard in my face. "Just sign so I can go home."
"So you can go jack off to your thirty second porn clips off the internet, then lie alone in your bed in denial and repeat your nighttime mantra, 'I am attractive, I am good-looking'? I retorted while quickly scribbling my name onto the sheet. I couldn't help but notice that I was the sixty-ninth person to sign - I should have taken this as an omen (good or bad? don't ask) but no, little naive me just shrugged it off and tried not to look at the now very angry UPS guy standing in front of me. He snatched his clipboard and started to walk away.
"Wait! How am I gonna get this inside?" I yelled over to him, but apparently he decided to ignore me and drove off into his company's brown and white truck into the night.
I looked at the box and groaned. Now, I'm not a big person for sixteen; I'm pretty thin, I guess and I'm five frrt exactly. Plus, I'm also energetically handicapped so it took me about a good hour to get the damn box inside and into the kitchen.
I turned the lights on and grabbed a knife from the cupboard, taking a shaky breath I slowly cut through the tape, but before I even got to the end something - or more like someone - attacked me.
Or more like my face, to be politically correct.
On January 25th, 2008 at 9:32 PM Eastern Time - my brain shut down, my body became lifeless and William Beckett was kissing me on the mouth.
God, are you there? It's me, Sahina. Thank you, thank you so fucking much.
♠ ♠ ♠
Thanks for the comments people :]I got the God, are you there? It's me, Sahina
from a book called God, are you there? It's me, Margaret -
its a good book, check it out (I read it in 7th grade).
Anywho, more comments = faster updates!