:m a g n u s:
I considered making some big speech about best friends have more benefits, but I thought better of it. Instead, I stood stock-still, trying to ignore the fact that I was starving and the clock was telling me that it was almost five thirty, meaning that my shift at the bar that night started in three and a half hours. That shift was a nine 'til five, which meant that I'd need to get home as quickly as possible (the bar closes at two, and yes, it does take three hours to clean the mess, and that's with the help of another bartender and four waitresses) which is really easy at five in the morning. I'd make it home just at five twenty-five, and sleep until ten (which is only four hours and thirty-five minutes of sleep) when I needed to get up to get ready for school, where my first class started at noon. Then again, I realized that I had been volentold to babysit Neve without my parents even asking if I had to work tonight; it wasn't too bad because I was sure that Monika wouldn't mind babysitting for me, and then I could just crash on his couch after work. Or... I could take Neve to work with me and sell him to the crazy drunks that are probably into that kind of thing.... No. Bad idea. I'd just leave him with Monika. No problem. Then again, crashing at Monika's after my shift also meant that I had to be up ten minutes earlier, which is ten minutes of sleep that I don't get, and would have to make up for out of homework time.... Any way I looked at this, it was just a big mess of me not getting enough sleep. Not that it mattered, because I'd deal with it when the time came. This — this right here — this was not the time. Still, it was going to suck balls to lose that ten minutes.
I listened to Bradley kind of vaguely for a moment, trying not to care about his taunting. I knew that if I listened intently and if I allowed myself to read into it, I was probably going to drown him in Monika's soup. No. That was too good a way for him to go. Ah. I'd bury him alive somewhere after knocking him out on a sidetable or something so that he could wake up dead. Of course, that's an oxymoron because it's physically impossible to wake up dead seeing as once you're dead you can't wake up and if you've woken up you're not dead. Did anyone else just suffer massive brain damage reading that? Okay, I'm not alone. Good. Thumbs up. So, I stood there and fumed for a minute, waiting for something to happen because I couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't A: make me look like a total ass, or B: embarrass me even further. I mean, I could've just gone with my first instinct and beat his head in, but the assult charges I'd suffer didn't look pretty on the neon pink paper of my mind. Neon pink. Like that fucking carpet. Speaking of fucking, I heard that exact word slip more deliberately than slipping normally allows from Monika's lips and I turned to look at him — whether it was in shock or awe, I was uncertain. Shock and awe. Shock... and awe.... Shock and— what the fuck am I doing? Nevermind. Whatever. The point is that I took a moment to register what Monika had said and then I frowned.
I wanted to slap him in stead.
"You're not a whore." What a stupid word, whore. I hate everything about it. Especially that silent 'w' at the biginning. It made me want to stab something. More than that, I couldn't believe that Monika would refer to himself that way. Okay, so what if he was sleeping with other guys. He wasn't the kind of person to be in a relationship with one guy and screw around with other guys at the same time, and he most certainly didn't sell his body on street corners. He had more dignity than that. I looked back at Bradley, and it kind of dawned on me that this asshole was making Monika feel like a whore, and that — when you're dealing with me — is a big mistake. I didn't even realize that I had stepped around the table, but I was suddenly standing right in front of him. It was probably a good thing that I wasn't attracted to men, or it would have made this so much more difficult. Ignoring the flashing assult charges behind my eyes, I balled my hands into fists. "You have three seconds to leave," I warned before raising my arm and counting. "One. Three." Yes. I skipped two. Only bad-asses skip two. I felt bad-ass. Even more so when my fist connected with his face.
I considered making some big speech about best friends have more benefits, but I thought better of it. Instead, I stood stock-still, trying to ignore the fact that I was starving and the clock was telling me that it was almost five thirty, meaning that my shift at the bar that night started in three and a half hours. That shift was a nine 'til five, which meant that I'd need to get home as quickly as possible (the bar closes at two, and yes, it does take three hours to clean the mess, and that's with the help of another bartender and four waitresses) which is really easy at five in the morning. I'd make it home just at five twenty-five, and sleep until ten (which is only four hours and thirty-five minutes of sleep) when I needed to get up to get ready for school, where my first class started at noon. Then again, I realized that I had been volentold to babysit Neve without my parents even asking if I had to work tonight; it wasn't too bad because I was sure that Monika wouldn't mind babysitting for me, and then I could just crash on his couch after work. Or... I could take Neve to work with me and sell him to the crazy drunks that are probably into that kind of thing.... No. Bad idea. I'd just leave him with Monika. No problem. Then again, crashing at Monika's after my shift also meant that I had to be up ten minutes earlier, which is ten minutes of sleep that I don't get, and would have to make up for out of homework time.... Any way I looked at this, it was just a big mess of me not getting enough sleep. Not that it mattered, because I'd deal with it when the time came. This — this right here — this was not the time. Still, it was going to suck balls to lose that ten minutes.
I listened to Bradley kind of vaguely for a moment, trying not to care about his taunting. I knew that if I listened intently and if I allowed myself to read into it, I was probably going to drown him in Monika's soup. No. That was too good a way for him to go. Ah. I'd bury him alive somewhere after knocking him out on a sidetable or something so that he could wake up dead. Of course, that's an oxymoron because it's physically impossible to wake up dead seeing as once you're dead you can't wake up and if you've woken up you're not dead. Did anyone else just suffer massive brain damage reading that? Okay, I'm not alone. Good. Thumbs up. So, I stood there and fumed for a minute, waiting for something to happen because I couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't A: make me look like a total ass, or B: embarrass me even further. I mean, I could've just gone with my first instinct and beat his head in, but the assult charges I'd suffer didn't look pretty on the neon pink paper of my mind. Neon pink. Like that fucking carpet. Speaking of fucking, I heard that exact word slip more deliberately than slipping normally allows from Monika's lips and I turned to look at him — whether it was in shock or awe, I was uncertain. Shock and awe. Shock... and awe.... Shock and— what the fuck am I doing? Nevermind. Whatever. The point is that I took a moment to register what Monika had said and then I frowned.
I wanted to slap him in stead.
"You're not a whore." What a stupid word, whore. I hate everything about it. Especially that silent 'w' at the biginning. It made me want to stab something. More than that, I couldn't believe that Monika would refer to himself that way. Okay, so what if he was sleeping with other guys. He wasn't the kind of person to be in a relationship with one guy and screw around with other guys at the same time, and he most certainly didn't sell his body on street corners. He had more dignity than that. I looked back at Bradley, and it kind of dawned on me that this asshole was making Monika feel like a whore, and that — when you're dealing with me — is a big mistake. I didn't even realize that I had stepped around the table, but I was suddenly standing right in front of him. It was probably a good thing that I wasn't attracted to men, or it would have made this so much more difficult. Ignoring the flashing assult charges behind my eyes, I balled my hands into fists. "You have three seconds to leave," I warned before raising my arm and counting. "One. Three." Yes. I skipped two. Only bad-asses skip two. I felt bad-ass. Even more so when my fist connected with his face.