Jiltist
December 20th, 2008, 12:51 AM
One. "One." Two. "Two." Three. "Three." Four--god this is boring. "Dad, when're we gonna get there? We've been drivin' for like, ever." "Soon enough, David." "All this just to see an old bag," I grumbled. "Now David, don't call your Grammy a bag. "It's not nice." I grumbled, "Fine." "I can't hear you. "What was that David?" "I said fine!" I yelled. Fucking old bag and her fucking old-ass cabin. It even smells old too--I'll never smell like Bengay. I tapped at the windows.
(It'd be nice to have somebody fill in for mom, pops, Grammy, and perhaps some other characters--maybe she took in a hobo?)
(It'd be nice to have somebody fill in for mom, pops, Grammy, and perhaps some other characters--maybe she took in a hobo?)