Wild Spirit
Three
Dear Diary,
My mother deadpan's more than I do (probably where I got it from), my brother acts and looks like a fucking caveman (no, seriously he's got on this funky potato-sack-like material in the shape of Fred Flintstone’s dress-shirt-thing), and my best friend thinks I'm partially insane (I may or may not agree with this opinion).
"Rubbish! This is absolute rubbish!"
"Audrey, why are you talking to yourself?"
I didn't bother turning around to face my mother who happened to be passing by my room at this very moment.
"Because this is all rubbish."
I heard her sigh. What is it with women around me sighing?
"What is this rubbish you're going on about exactly?"
"This!’ I exclaimed (I rather like this word) while pointing to the notebook in front of me, 'We're supposed to start diaries for English Lit because we're reading Anne Frank or whatever and it's absolutely rubbish!"
Mother snorted, unattractively but not as bad as Emma, maybe it's because she's older and more experienced in this field so she's learnt how to control them...
"Diaries are rubbish. Your life sucks!"
"Gee, thanks for the moral support, Mother."
I sighed. God, it's like yawning all this sighing going around.
"Write about your future botanical career or something... And dress up a little tonight, I've got a friend coming over for dinner."
And with that my mother turned on the spot and continued her way down the hallway.
"Oh I guess I could... Wait what? A friend? Since when do you have friends?"
Of course, I got no response.
"Hello? Mother? Is it a boy? Are you bringing a boy home for dinner, Mother? MOTHER!"
"Just look nice! I don't want them to think I've raised cavemen!"
I snorted, "You should probably take a gander at your son then..."
My mother deadpan's more than I do (probably where I got it from), my brother acts and looks like a fucking caveman (no, seriously he's got on this funky potato-sack-like material in the shape of Fred Flintstone’s dress-shirt-thing), and my best friend thinks I'm partially insane (I may or may not agree with this opinion).
"Rubbish! This is absolute rubbish!"
"Audrey, why are you talking to yourself?"
I didn't bother turning around to face my mother who happened to be passing by my room at this very moment.
"Because this is all rubbish."
I heard her sigh. What is it with women around me sighing?
"What is this rubbish you're going on about exactly?"
"This!’ I exclaimed (I rather like this word) while pointing to the notebook in front of me, 'We're supposed to start diaries for English Lit because we're reading Anne Frank or whatever and it's absolutely rubbish!"
Mother snorted, unattractively but not as bad as Emma, maybe it's because she's older and more experienced in this field so she's learnt how to control them...
"Diaries are rubbish. Your life sucks!"
"Gee, thanks for the moral support, Mother."
I sighed. God, it's like yawning all this sighing going around.
"Write about your future botanical career or something... And dress up a little tonight, I've got a friend coming over for dinner."
And with that my mother turned on the spot and continued her way down the hallway.
"Oh I guess I could... Wait what? A friend? Since when do you have friends?"
Of course, I got no response.
"Hello? Mother? Is it a boy? Are you bringing a boy home for dinner, Mother? MOTHER!"
"Just look nice! I don't want them to think I've raised cavemen!"
I snorted, "You should probably take a gander at your son then..."