Status: [updated 12/07/14]

The Brat Pack

If You Gotta Go...

"Shut the FUCK UP!"

A crash. John Bender sits up in bed, sweating. Sun is streaming through the dirty window, cold spring air blowing in and chilling the tiny room. The window doesn't close all the way, and hasn't since Mr. Bender bought the house years ago.

"You don't talk to me like that!" A woman shouting from the kitchen. Another crash.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST SAY?!" a man screams.

Bender shivers a bit, licking his dry lips. It's quiet at first, and then comes the soft sobs from his mother. She's whispering to her husband now, but Bender can't hear it. And to be quite frank, he doesn't want to. He doesn't fucking care.

He reaches for the floor and picks up the nice watch he hopes the man from the jewelry store doesn't miss, its surrounding diamonds gleaming. 6:56 AM. He's late. Again. Too fucking bad.

He drops the watch to the floor, grabbing the ratty blankets and pulling them up over his head, falling back asleep.
♠ ♠ ♠
If you ever see where the quotation marks look like “ ” instead of " " it's because that's how it looks when I copy-paste it from my computer onto Mibba, so let me know if you see them so I can change it.