Yuletide: "Lie la Lie", Original Character, 269 words
Fandom Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel ("The Boxer")
Title Lie la Lie
Rating/Warning R/underage prostitution, language
Pairings/Characters Original Character
Summary A runaway keeps fighting.
Disclaimer I own nothing. I make nothing. "The Boxer" belongs to Paul Simon.
Word Count 269
Notes Written for bethfrish who requested more to the story for Yuletide.
"Do you want to get out of here, kid? I can get you off the streets. I can take you to the big time, get you the good stuff."
The stories change, but never what they want. I'm something they want. Something they need. They're willing to pay. Money, dope, food to eat, a place to crash. It don't matter none.
I ran away a long time ago. People try to take advantage. I learned to hide in plain sight. Been doin' that a long time. People don't see nothin' they don't wanna' see.
There's a drumming in my mind, whispering to me, "Lie la lie ... "
Ain't no one gonna' hire some kid. Not even Mickey D's. I tried. But, them 'hos walkin' on Seventh, they make themselves good money. Better than none, anyways. Hot food. A place to drop. The good shit that makes you forget. Them's little things, but they big. Feels nice sometimes just to be with a'body.
There's a drumming in my mind, whispering to me, "Lie la lie ... "
I done decided it just ain't worth it no more. I'm gettin' out a' here. Makin' myself a nest egg. Gonna' find a way back, ya'.
"Fuck off, Mister!" Stupid fucking asshole Johns.
Don't matter how many times I get knocked down, I'm 'a find a way back up, hear? I gonna' say I'm givin' up, but that's all bullshit, you know what I'm sayin'? I gonna' make it someday, man. I'm gonna' make it. Donchou' forget it.
There's a drumming in my mind, whispering to me, "Lie la lie ... "
Title Lie la Lie
Rating/Warning R/underage prostitution, language
Pairings/Characters Original Character
Summary A runaway keeps fighting.
Disclaimer I own nothing. I make nothing. "The Boxer" belongs to Paul Simon.
Word Count 269
Notes Written for bethfrish who requested more to the story for Yuletide.
"Do you want to get out of here, kid? I can get you off the streets. I can take you to the big time, get you the good stuff."
The stories change, but never what they want. I'm something they want. Something they need. They're willing to pay. Money, dope, food to eat, a place to crash. It don't matter none.
I ran away a long time ago. People try to take advantage. I learned to hide in plain sight. Been doin' that a long time. People don't see nothin' they don't wanna' see.
There's a drumming in my mind, whispering to me, "Lie la lie ... "
Ain't no one gonna' hire some kid. Not even Mickey D's. I tried. But, them 'hos walkin' on Seventh, they make themselves good money. Better than none, anyways. Hot food. A place to drop. The good shit that makes you forget. Them's little things, but they big. Feels nice sometimes just to be with a'body.
There's a drumming in my mind, whispering to me, "Lie la lie ... "
I done decided it just ain't worth it no more. I'm gettin' out a' here. Makin' myself a nest egg. Gonna' find a way back, ya'.
"Fuck off, Mister!" Stupid fucking asshole Johns.
Don't matter how many times I get knocked down, I'm 'a find a way back up, hear? I gonna' say I'm givin' up, but that's all bullshit, you know what I'm sayin'? I gonna' make it someday, man. I'm gonna' make it. Donchou' forget it.
There's a drumming in my mind, whispering to me, "Lie la lie ... "