(no subject)
Juno couldn't believe that she was having an argument about the dynamics of relationships with a woman who smelled like methylmethacrylate and was spending her evening cutting pictures of dogs out of magazines.
"We don't even have a dog!" Juno accused, gesturing to the mess on the table. So what if it wasn't on point, wasn't there something about discrediting the person you were arguing with?
"Yeah, because you're allergic to their saliva," her stepmother answered irritably. "I've made a lot of sacrifices for you, Juno. And in a couple of years you're going to move out - and I'm getting Weimaraners."
"Woah, dream big!" Juno shot back, turning to go, and heard the yelled response, "Oh, go fly a kite!" just as she opened the front door. This had all started because Bren had flipped out for no reason when Juno said that she'd gone to see the Lohrings today and ended up hanging out with Mark watching slasher movies for a while. Christ, she'd gone to bring them an ultrasound picture, not rob the joint. It wasn't like they were adopting her, they were adopting the thing inside her. She was giving them the gift of life, the least Mark could do was give her some vitamin water and burn her some CDs.
As an afterthought, Juno turned and poured the remainder of her blue slushie into Bren's favorite urn. She'd go see Bleeker. He didn't care about stupid dogs more than her. Actually, she wasn't sure how he felt about dogs. Unless you counted his mother. Ouch!
But when she turned back to the door and stepped outside, she blinked and rubbed her eyes, noticing two things right away that seemed very, very wrong: one, it was daytime, and two, it was summer. As five minutes ago it had been 8pm and snowing, this had crossed the kooky line. She opened the door again, which actually, didn't look like her front door, either. In fact, it wasn't her house, it was a large, gray building. Still, she looked inside anyway, like there might be a big sign blinking JUNO YOU ARE NOT CRAZY or something. Instead, it was just a bleak looking hallway, kind of reminded her of the hospital she'd been in earlier that day getting a check-up, which had seemed even less inviting when they'd been escorted off the premises for Bren's verbal abuse of the ultrasound technician.
"Hellooooooo," she called, first into the building and then outside at what seemed to be some sort of crazy rainforest habitat, or maybe something like those tribal villages in National Geographic. She half expected some midget in a loincloth to jump out and point a spear at her. Or at the very least some sort of half-man half-tiger who would take her to his people and declare her their goddess and worship her belly like it was the Torah.
"Hey Bren, I'm sorry I mocked your dog fetish!"
When no answer was forthcoming, she adjusted her bag on her shoulder and muttered, "It would have been really frickin' sweet if someone had warned me that one of the side effects of being knocked up was hallucinations." Well, maybe not. After all, she'd known that one of the potential side effects of having sex was a baby and she'd done that anyway.
She thought she felt the blue slushie starting to come up.
"We don't even have a dog!" Juno accused, gesturing to the mess on the table. So what if it wasn't on point, wasn't there something about discrediting the person you were arguing with?
"Yeah, because you're allergic to their saliva," her stepmother answered irritably. "I've made a lot of sacrifices for you, Juno. And in a couple of years you're going to move out - and I'm getting Weimaraners."
"Woah, dream big!" Juno shot back, turning to go, and heard the yelled response, "Oh, go fly a kite!" just as she opened the front door. This had all started because Bren had flipped out for no reason when Juno said that she'd gone to see the Lohrings today and ended up hanging out with Mark watching slasher movies for a while. Christ, she'd gone to bring them an ultrasound picture, not rob the joint. It wasn't like they were adopting her, they were adopting the thing inside her. She was giving them the gift of life, the least Mark could do was give her some vitamin water and burn her some CDs.
As an afterthought, Juno turned and poured the remainder of her blue slushie into Bren's favorite urn. She'd go see Bleeker. He didn't care about stupid dogs more than her. Actually, she wasn't sure how he felt about dogs. Unless you counted his mother. Ouch!
But when she turned back to the door and stepped outside, she blinked and rubbed her eyes, noticing two things right away that seemed very, very wrong: one, it was daytime, and two, it was summer. As five minutes ago it had been 8pm and snowing, this had crossed the kooky line. She opened the door again, which actually, didn't look like her front door, either. In fact, it wasn't her house, it was a large, gray building. Still, she looked inside anyway, like there might be a big sign blinking JUNO YOU ARE NOT CRAZY or something. Instead, it was just a bleak looking hallway, kind of reminded her of the hospital she'd been in earlier that day getting a check-up, which had seemed even less inviting when they'd been escorted off the premises for Bren's verbal abuse of the ultrasound technician.
"Hellooooooo," she called, first into the building and then outside at what seemed to be some sort of crazy rainforest habitat, or maybe something like those tribal villages in National Geographic. She half expected some midget in a loincloth to jump out and point a spear at her. Or at the very least some sort of half-man half-tiger who would take her to his people and declare her their goddess and worship her belly like it was the Torah.
"Hey Bren, I'm sorry I mocked your dog fetish!"
When no answer was forthcoming, she adjusted her bag on her shoulder and muttered, "It would have been really frickin' sweet if someone had warned me that one of the side effects of being knocked up was hallucinations." Well, maybe not. After all, she'd known that one of the potential side effects of having sex was a baby and she'd done that anyway.
She thought she felt the blue slushie starting to come up.