“I would love to slap you right now, but I’m currently wielding a nine pound ball and I’m afraid that would be called murder.”
“Come! Come sit by me. It’s a nice bench. Nice and lovely on the butt.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Yeah, and you’re ugly, but do I complain about it? No! Because I don’t complain about things that I can’t change. That’s called intelligence.”
“How did you find me? If you hacked into the Club’s computer to look up my appointments - "
“Whoa, I think you overestimate me, shitlord. Last time I checked all I did was be in the wrong place at the right time. I saw you and had to - ”
“Stalk me.”
“ - delicately approach you. In a sideways manner. From behind. Without being seen at all. For ten minutes.”
“I cannot, for the life of me, remember what we were just conversing about! Alas. I will forever remember this time we spent together affectionately and oh god I remember now you pervert!”
“You were the one who shouted ‘sex’!” He hisses.
“You were the one who was born, so really I think that’s the root of the problem.”
“Did you have fun? How many boys did you make out with?” She asks. “Seventy. At least.” “How many shots did you take?” “Fourteen. I let go of the wheel halfway home and Jesus drove me the rest of the way.”
“The waitress scuttles away, and I make a shooing motion at the old couple who’re still glaring.
“Don’t you have something to better to work on?” I hiss. “Like golfing or eating prunes or dying?”
The old lady looks shocked.
“Okay, sorry, not dying. But seriously, prunes are good for you.”
“Sometimes, we can’t do the things we want to do for ourselves. Sometimes we wait for someone else to do them. You can’t always wait like that. You have to seek out change on your own.”
“And then he came, and pulled her petals off one by one, forcing her to surround herself with thorns to survive. But he missed one petal. And she guards it with a tiger's ferocity.”
“Hello, spawn!” I coo at Kayla’s baby brother as he waddles into her room. He burps at me.
“It looks like you guys speak the same language,” Kayla quips.
“Where was that sass when Jack was making you cry at Avery’s party?”
“Uh, hello? He’s my crush? I’m not going to sass him.”
“Flash ‘em the sass before you flash ‘em the ass.”
“What kind of saying is that?” She laughs.
“Grandma-saying. She’s the head of the motorcycle gang at her nursing home.”
“Let's go. We have to confront her."
I scoff. "Confront her? That's a little mild, don't you think? I'm going to rip her tits off.”
“I’m gross. Look at me – getting all sloppy in front of my mortal enemy. Unexecutable. Inexhaustible. Un…un…under the sea.”
“Hairy monkeyballs!” I hiss. “Dogshit on a stick! Puke pancakes!”
A head pokes in. Wren, green eyes smiling, walks over to my bed.
“I knew you were awake. Who else spews such original and captivating swears?”
“I will pull your pancreas out through your nose and feed it back to you in a drip inserted into your anus is that clear?”
“I’m all about that shit.”
Mom shoots me the Disapproving-Mom-Subtle-Lip-Frown.
“I’m all about that poop,” I correct delicately.”
“She was probably a trusting, naïve girl before him, like a daisy. And then he came, and pulled her petals off one by one, forcing her to surround herself with thorns to survive.”
“And offers me a black rose.
"I figured you'd hate flowers, so I decided to get one that matched your soul" He says. I take the flower, careful not to touch any of his long finger.”
“You’re seventeen! Why do I have to keep reminding you of that? There are soooo many women you haven’t even met yet! Don’t act like you’re tired of the puss-puss, no guy is ever tired of the puss-puss.”
“Yes, my style sucks. But at least I didn't bowl half a game with a nacho stuck to my ass.”
“And he uses big words, so he's probably a huge nerd. To be fair, I do too, but that's because I'm fabulous. Jack has no such excuse.”
“Is it? Because that picture of me was taken by my old school's yearbook club, and they put it in the section titled 'STUDENT FAILSAUCES! XD.
What's an XD?
A sideways laughing face of horrendous proportions. Don't change the subject.”
“Did you have fun? How many boys did you make out with?
Seventy. At least.
How many shots did you take?
Fourteen. I let go of the wheel halfway home and Jesus drove me the rest of the way.”
“I leave her to chemically combust and find Wren in the student council office, filling out extremely interesting paperwork. He’s buried behind piles of the stuff. I can barely see tufts of his blonde hair poking out. I reach into the paperwork pile and shove the two halves aside. Hundreds of them fall off the desk and to the floor. Papers drift through the air like snowflakes. Fat, boring-ass snowflakes. Wren looks up, face slack with shock.
“Whatcha doing?” I ask.
“Dividing up funding for the other clubs,” He whispers, clearly distraught. A paper plops onto his head and slides off dejectedly. I’m respectful for three seconds.
“So anyway, I had this nightmare in which Jack was sexy and Kayla died.”
“Hey, prez!” I get out of the desk and hug him. He makes a strangled-cat noise and adjusts his
glasses so hard they fly off his face. I pick them off the floor.
“You okay?”
“I-I’m fine. Um. You look – you look, uh, you look - ”
“Nice?” I offer.
“Really…really nice,” Wren exhales.”
“you, Mr. Bernard,”. “Last time I checked they don’t pay you to ogle teenage girls. They pay
you to teach. So start teaching.”
Mr. Bernard jumps in his chair, clears his throat, and hurriedly goes to the whiteboard and starts writing equations. I salute Jack as I bow out the door.
“Have a great day, Jackoff.”
“Try not to get molested, cow,” He snaps.”
“She smells like lavender and sadness – and that smells like ripped tissue paper and sun-dried salt.”
“I will be the silent protector Gotham Kayla needs”
“Oh, horseshit! I-I mean, darn!” She corrects herself quickly. Why don’t you come in and have some tea. Do you like tea? Or are you a coffee person? I can make coffee, just be warned it tastes like ass and looks like ass – I mean,butt.”
“Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I don’t cry and the don’t-cry times are somehow worse than the crying ones.”
“I wake up i Satan's butthole.”
“Thinking and talking about love leads to Love, which is the enemy. Do not consort with the enemy. Even if those hot-ass actors in the movies make it look cuddly and nice and tempting, don’t fall for it. It’s the biggest bad in the world, the worst villain ever created by hormone-pumped pubescent morons. It’s the Joker, Lex Luthor, that one overweight guy who’s always messing with the Scooby-Doo gang. It’s the final boss in the massive joke of a video game you call your life.”
“So the first lesson about trusting your senses is: don’t. Just because you believe something to be true, just because you know it’s true, that doesn’t mean it is true.”
“Everything's got a moral, if only you can find it”
“...she, Mrs. Ph(i)Nk₀, she who in the midst of our closed petty world had been capable of a generous impulse, 'Boys, the tagliatelle I would make for you!', a true outburst of general love, initiating at the same moment the concept of space and, properly speaking, space itself, and time, and universal gravitation, and the gravitating universe, making possible billions and billions of suns, and of planets, and fields of wheat, and Mrs. Ph(i)Nk₀s scattered through the continents of the planets, kneading with floury, oil-shiny, generous arms, and she lost at that very moment, and we, mourning her loss.”
“They say the day the Governor arrived, the ravens did too.”
“I have decided to sleep under the stars... Tonight heaven is my roof, and the hedges my walls... The field folds me in soft wings.”
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