The Curse Continues
So... someone else has died at Argyle. No one I ever knew. Her name was Sadie Hardman. Apparently she fell off the roof of Lynn Valley Elementary. That's some pretty fucked up shit.
Tonight I went out for dinner with my grandparents, my mom, and my cousin Rob. We went to Carmello's. It was decent.
Speaking of Carmello's, Kyle lost his job... which means I don't have a job anymore. Babysitting-wise.
I'm taking Wednesdays at EB now... and this Friday we have inventory at 6 am... and next Thursday is Kristel's birthday so I'm taking her shift. So I still have money coming in.
On Saturday after work I went over to Stu's place with Jackie and we watched Power Rangers.... and smoked. Okay, I didn't smoke. We ordered a pizza over the internet... and then Richard came over and it was midnight so I had to go cause I had work on Sunday. It was pretty friggin' amazing. Stu and I have the same computer and the same speakers.... and he's got like 10 guitars and this massive TV.
Hmm. BluRay won the HD battle, so HD-DVD is useless and the Xbox 360 dropped in price to 349.99 rather than 399.99. Hoowah for those who waited.
Sunday I worked and I felt like shit cause I didn't sleep. I was a bitch to people... and I didn't get much done so I felt pretty useless. Sunday kinda sucked. Also, Kristel was sick so we were short-staffed... but it wasn't too bad cause we didn't have too many customers. My mom didn't make me a bagel so I had to buy food... and she didn't make me coffee so I almost missed my bus... Sunday was shite.
Tomorrow I've got English and I'm not prepared at all. Uugh. I really don't want to go to school.
I wrote some shit for writing. It's pretty shite.
I remember when my grandmother used to get hammered and read me Dr. Seuss’s “Fox in Socks”. Half way through the story she would get tongue-tied and throw the book across the room or out the window into the garden. The lights went out and the royalty magazines and the blue floral wallpaper and the gray carpet would turn to nighttime shadows. I remember eggs and soldier boys that the old man would cook early in the morning. I could hear the stick-click of cheap slippers on the linoleum floor and when the toast collided with egg yolk it was like a whole new beginning. And I didn’t know about alcoholism or cancer or AIDS or the walking dead.
Sticky, Red
The theatre’s empty and the seats seem to be lined up diagonally, but not. There’s still popcorn and half-empty paper cups on the floor from the last audience. The soles of my shoes stick to the floor as I walk. It’s dark and quiet, unlike the usual movie scene.
“This is the only time I get to relax,” he tells me, “when I’m with you.”
He holds my hands and takes a deep breath. We’re still in our work clothes and nametags. He caresses my cheek bones, moves onto my un-pierced ears, my uncombed hair. He leans in, our eyes closed, all natural, and chapped meets chapped. I can feel the blood pumping through his tender membranes as our lips touch briefly. It tickles, but not in a painful ‘Dad’ way. Our eyes open, his ice blues melt a little. I look away. He stops.
“That wasn’t your first... was it?”
It’s so dark, so quiet, so anonymous. So I lie. “No.”
It might be raining again, or maybe it’s just the movie starting up. The keys to my brother’s house are in my pocket, and I grip them for luck and superstition.
“Did you lock the doors?” I ask, trying not to sound young and paranoid.
He nods and holds my hand, “I told you before: you’re safe here.”
I want to believe him, but I can’t relax. If I sit still for long enough, I’ll hear them scratching, always scratching at the glass of the theatre. They know we’re here.
“Do you have any idea how much popcorn is left in the stock room?” he casually asks, fondling my hand with his thumb.
I shrug.
“We can’t live on that shit forever...” his voice trails off into the dark.
I shut my eyes. I know what’s coming.
“Someone has to go for food.” He shakes his head, his mind set in sacrifice. Someone is going to die. Someone always dies.
...That's all. I'm going to go play rollercoaster tycoon and forget my troubles.
Nina.
Tonight I went out for dinner with my grandparents, my mom, and my cousin Rob. We went to Carmello's. It was decent.
Speaking of Carmello's, Kyle lost his job... which means I don't have a job anymore. Babysitting-wise.
I'm taking Wednesdays at EB now... and this Friday we have inventory at 6 am... and next Thursday is Kristel's birthday so I'm taking her shift. So I still have money coming in.
On Saturday after work I went over to Stu's place with Jackie and we watched Power Rangers.... and smoked. Okay, I didn't smoke. We ordered a pizza over the internet... and then Richard came over and it was midnight so I had to go cause I had work on Sunday. It was pretty friggin' amazing. Stu and I have the same computer and the same speakers.... and he's got like 10 guitars and this massive TV.
Hmm. BluRay won the HD battle, so HD-DVD is useless and the Xbox 360 dropped in price to 349.99 rather than 399.99. Hoowah for those who waited.
Sunday I worked and I felt like shit cause I didn't sleep. I was a bitch to people... and I didn't get much done so I felt pretty useless. Sunday kinda sucked. Also, Kristel was sick so we were short-staffed... but it wasn't too bad cause we didn't have too many customers. My mom didn't make me a bagel so I had to buy food... and she didn't make me coffee so I almost missed my bus... Sunday was shite.
Tomorrow I've got English and I'm not prepared at all. Uugh. I really don't want to go to school.
I wrote some shit for writing. It's pretty shite.
I remember when my grandmother used to get hammered and read me Dr. Seuss’s “Fox in Socks”. Half way through the story she would get tongue-tied and throw the book across the room or out the window into the garden. The lights went out and the royalty magazines and the blue floral wallpaper and the gray carpet would turn to nighttime shadows. I remember eggs and soldier boys that the old man would cook early in the morning. I could hear the stick-click of cheap slippers on the linoleum floor and when the toast collided with egg yolk it was like a whole new beginning. And I didn’t know about alcoholism or cancer or AIDS or the walking dead.
Sticky, Red
The theatre’s empty and the seats seem to be lined up diagonally, but not. There’s still popcorn and half-empty paper cups on the floor from the last audience. The soles of my shoes stick to the floor as I walk. It’s dark and quiet, unlike the usual movie scene.
“This is the only time I get to relax,” he tells me, “when I’m with you.”
He holds my hands and takes a deep breath. We’re still in our work clothes and nametags. He caresses my cheek bones, moves onto my un-pierced ears, my uncombed hair. He leans in, our eyes closed, all natural, and chapped meets chapped. I can feel the blood pumping through his tender membranes as our lips touch briefly. It tickles, but not in a painful ‘Dad’ way. Our eyes open, his ice blues melt a little. I look away. He stops.
“That wasn’t your first... was it?”
It’s so dark, so quiet, so anonymous. So I lie. “No.”
It might be raining again, or maybe it’s just the movie starting up. The keys to my brother’s house are in my pocket, and I grip them for luck and superstition.
“Did you lock the doors?” I ask, trying not to sound young and paranoid.
He nods and holds my hand, “I told you before: you’re safe here.”
I want to believe him, but I can’t relax. If I sit still for long enough, I’ll hear them scratching, always scratching at the glass of the theatre. They know we’re here.
“Do you have any idea how much popcorn is left in the stock room?” he casually asks, fondling my hand with his thumb.
I shrug.
“We can’t live on that shit forever...” his voice trails off into the dark.
I shut my eyes. I know what’s coming.
“Someone has to go for food.” He shakes his head, his mind set in sacrifice. Someone is going to die. Someone always dies.
...That's all. I'm going to go play rollercoaster tycoon and forget my troubles.
Nina.