Coming of (m)Age
(Continued from The ShanMonster Writing Machine Returns)
I place my hand on the red barrel and close my eyes. I can't exactly say I feel nothing. I feel nervous and I feel the faux wood grain pattern imprinted in the plastic. My guts still ache a bit from yesterday. I don't see any visions, though. I open up the barrel and dump the monkeys onto the desktop. One falls off the desk and lands on my leg.
I see Marty Simmons from my third period English class sneaking into a darkened corridor. There's no one else in there. He jimmies open the lock on a door and goes inside. I can see through his eyes. He's looking through a crack in the door. Lights snap on in the corridor. The hallway is lined with curtained doorways. A woman walks down the corridor with some swim suits on hangers and steps behind one of the curtains. Marty reaches down and unzips his pants and ew ew ewww!
I brush the monkey off my leg. I guess I used a lot of extra force because it goes flying and bounces off the wall.
I thought the bike accident vision was bad, but I was not expecting to get a graphic view of Marty trying to strangle his wiener in a women's change room. Still, if this is true, I can't just let him get away with it. I have to play voyeur on the voyeur. I aluminum my reserve (or is it steel my reserve? I always get metals mixed up), and walk over to pick up the errant monkey. Before I even get to the other side of the room, I feel something else again. I feel like maybe I peed myself.
The crotch of my pants is stained with blood.
Momma was right. Forget being a woman. I'm a sorceress now.
Marty the perv will have to wait. I have stained pants and underwear to deal with.
I place my hand on the red barrel and close my eyes. I can't exactly say I feel nothing. I feel nervous and I feel the faux wood grain pattern imprinted in the plastic. My guts still ache a bit from yesterday. I don't see any visions, though. I open up the barrel and dump the monkeys onto the desktop. One falls off the desk and lands on my leg.
I see Marty Simmons from my third period English class sneaking into a darkened corridor. There's no one else in there. He jimmies open the lock on a door and goes inside. I can see through his eyes. He's looking through a crack in the door. Lights snap on in the corridor. The hallway is lined with curtained doorways. A woman walks down the corridor with some swim suits on hangers and steps behind one of the curtains. Marty reaches down and unzips his pants and ew ew ewww!
I brush the monkey off my leg. I guess I used a lot of extra force because it goes flying and bounces off the wall.
I thought the bike accident vision was bad, but I was not expecting to get a graphic view of Marty trying to strangle his wiener in a women's change room. Still, if this is true, I can't just let him get away with it. I have to play voyeur on the voyeur. I aluminum my reserve (or is it steel my reserve? I always get metals mixed up), and walk over to pick up the errant monkey. Before I even get to the other side of the room, I feel something else again. I feel like maybe I peed myself.
The crotch of my pants is stained with blood.
Momma was right. Forget being a woman. I'm a sorceress now.
Marty the perv will have to wait. I have stained pants and underwear to deal with.