Sequel: Glitter, Guts, Glory ›
Status: complete.
Sluts in Love
Indifference.
Sean O'Combs is that kid who thinks he's friends with everyone because he's in smart people classes but still goes out and parties every weekend. Sometimes I imagine giving him a glass of lighter fluid under the pretense of beer or some shit then shoot a flaming arrow down his throat. God, I have problems. But now he speaks to me like we're the best of fucking friends.
"Dude," he whispers. His rank breath is warm and smells like garlic. I vomit a little bit. "Have you tapped that yet? It's been, like, a week."
"Dude," I whisper right back. God, I hate this kid. "Fuck off."
That super white look-at-me-I'm-a-quarterback smile vanishes and is replaced with a grimace. "Screw you, D'Angelo."
"I'm not into dicks, sorry. My sincerest apologies to you and your left hand."
O'Combs sits there looking like the fucking idiot he is. His mouth is flapping all over like a fish out of water. The bell rings before I have a chance to see fishface start breathing again.
AP Anatomy is my last class before lunch, but Juliet isn't in it. She's not in a lot of my classes because she likes to pretend she's dumb.
"It looks like a fire breathing reptile made love to your hair and left its eggs to hatch in it," I say as a hello. Because I'm such an asshole and Juliet is such a bitch I have to say at least twelve mean things to her a day. This is only my fourth.
She just sits there with that spaced out look in her eyes and picks apart her bagel. "Doctors say the first person who may live to one hundred and fifty might have been born already. I think it might be me."
"You'll probably die from some vaginal STD within the next few years." Ladies and gentlemen, my fifth.
"How funny you mention dying and vaginal in the same sentence," that stupid smirk that I fucking hate so much and makes me want to squeeze her rib cage with a spiked iron glove.
You might be wondering why we're friends if she's such a fucking bitch. And truthfully, I ask myself that a lot too. But I think it all really boils down to the things we know about each other and how much it would suck to make a new best friend in the middle of senior year.
"You're a twat, Carnegee. One day you're going to choke and die on your own word vomit."
"What is a twat, anyway? Those crazy Brits are always making up words."
She's so stupid. Sometimes I wish she was dead but that would probably make me even more depressed and angry. It probably doesn't help that I give all of my meds to Juliet. Xanax, Valium, Effexor, you name it, I've had it. I stopped taking them because they stopped working and I slipped some to her as a little experiment. It's not like I wanted to have my way with her- Jesus, who knows where that thing has been- but I wanted to know what she would say. And truthfully, I like drugged-off-her-ass-Juliet much better. She's so much more chill.
Right now I think she's on the Xanax. I have this freaky thing where I can smell things. It smells like purple raindrops and sawdust. That means she took two prior to lunch and will defiantly need more to get her through the day. And after that little encounter with O'Combs, I think I'll be needing some of it too.
"Dude," he whispers. His rank breath is warm and smells like garlic. I vomit a little bit. "Have you tapped that yet? It's been, like, a week."
"Dude," I whisper right back. God, I hate this kid. "Fuck off."
That super white look-at-me-I'm-a-quarterback smile vanishes and is replaced with a grimace. "Screw you, D'Angelo."
"I'm not into dicks, sorry. My sincerest apologies to you and your left hand."
O'Combs sits there looking like the fucking idiot he is. His mouth is flapping all over like a fish out of water. The bell rings before I have a chance to see fishface start breathing again.
AP Anatomy is my last class before lunch, but Juliet isn't in it. She's not in a lot of my classes because she likes to pretend she's dumb.
"It looks like a fire breathing reptile made love to your hair and left its eggs to hatch in it," I say as a hello. Because I'm such an asshole and Juliet is such a bitch I have to say at least twelve mean things to her a day. This is only my fourth.
She just sits there with that spaced out look in her eyes and picks apart her bagel. "Doctors say the first person who may live to one hundred and fifty might have been born already. I think it might be me."
"You'll probably die from some vaginal STD within the next few years." Ladies and gentlemen, my fifth.
"How funny you mention dying and vaginal in the same sentence," that stupid smirk that I fucking hate so much and makes me want to squeeze her rib cage with a spiked iron glove.
You might be wondering why we're friends if she's such a fucking bitch. And truthfully, I ask myself that a lot too. But I think it all really boils down to the things we know about each other and how much it would suck to make a new best friend in the middle of senior year.
"You're a twat, Carnegee. One day you're going to choke and die on your own word vomit."
"What is a twat, anyway? Those crazy Brits are always making up words."
She's so stupid. Sometimes I wish she was dead but that would probably make me even more depressed and angry. It probably doesn't help that I give all of my meds to Juliet. Xanax, Valium, Effexor, you name it, I've had it. I stopped taking them because they stopped working and I slipped some to her as a little experiment. It's not like I wanted to have my way with her- Jesus, who knows where that thing has been- but I wanted to know what she would say. And truthfully, I like drugged-off-her-ass-Juliet much better. She's so much more chill.
Right now I think she's on the Xanax. I have this freaky thing where I can smell things. It smells like purple raindrops and sawdust. That means she took two prior to lunch and will defiantly need more to get her through the day. And after that little encounter with O'Combs, I think I'll be needing some of it too.
♠ ♠ ♠
i wish i had a penguin.