New Year's Resolution!, chapter 1
"Tre! Get up here now!" I screamed. I heard him tripping over himself up the stairs.
"What?" he asked stupidly.
"You know. Do it now!" I commanded.
"Fine!" he yelled. "Happy Birthday, Greenlee."
"Thanks you!" I said as I stretched my arms. Yes, I'm still in bed. Who cares? "Tre?"
"What now?" he asked, all annoyed at me.
"Where do you dye your hair? I want mine green to match my name..."
"One of the people at the salon place does it. I just realized something!"
"What?"
"Today! Today isn't any birthday, today is Green Day!" he declared.
"Right, now please leave, I need to get dressed."
"Aww, why?" he whined.
"Perv!" I yelled as I threw my pillow at him. He caught it and pretended to lick it. "Leave!"
"Fine." he pouted, then I heard his footsteps go down the stairs. I got up and closed my door, then, as I said, I got dressed. It's hard to get privacy, living with Tre, because a lot of times he barges into my room. Ever since he left his house, he was bugging me to get an apartment with him.
Finally, I caved, and we've had this dump for about two months. Let me tell you a bit about both of us. Me first! Yay me! My name is Greenlee Independence (yes, it is a real name) Joe. Which is why Tre teases me by calling me GI Joe. Bleh. Mostly I'm called Green, though. I have flaming red hair by nature and blue eyes that shocks even my own roommate, and that's saying something, as he has to look in the mirror at his own eyes. I'm punky, I have the style, and I play the music. I live its life, but I get lazy more often than not.
Tre is a pervert. 'Nuff said. He usually has his brownish blonde hair, but now it's green, in a faux hawk, and his eyes are ice blue. He is way to silly to function, and I can't get through even my first hour of my awakening without laughing. He has the same personality as me, except the funny and perverted part, obviously. And here's a secret (don't tell or I'll kill you, literally kill you): I actually, maybe, might, definately... love him. Maybe. I might love him. It's complicated, because it started when we were 13.
-Flashback-
It was my first day of eighth grade at a new school, and I was nervous as all hell. I knew not a soul, and I'm... diferent then most, a.k.a. pink hair, black clothes, skateboarder... you get the picture. The bell rung quickly, signalling me to go to class, this crummy school having only one class for all of the subject. The teacher had written on the board for us to choose our own seats, then she'd rearrange us later. I picked a seat in the middle, not the front, not the back. Within seconds, a guy sat next to me. He had the same style as me and gave me a suggestive look.
"Hello, I shall be serving you, your own personal dominated love slave," he said, offering his hand. I poked it.
"Okay, then I shall be your sexy sexy beast, but if I get rained on, one comes off, and only you can award me with another," I joked.
"Alrighty then! My name is... Cool," he told me.
"Cool?"
"Tre Cool," he said cockily, with a cheeky grin.
"Oh, okay. My name is Greenlee. My full boring name is Greenlee Independence Joe. Bleh." I made a face.
"Haha! G.I. Joe!" he laughed.
"Now you get the sickness," I replied. "So, even if it hasn't even been five minutes, we friends?" I asked.
"Why not?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at me. I laughed.
-End flashback-
Yep, that's when it started. I think, for my New Year's Revolution I will tell him so, but for now, I'll see how things end up, because I usually do the opposite of my revolutions. Tre hollered up the stairs for me and I yelled back, "I'm coming, my slave!" I heard him pound up again.
"'Slave'?"
"Remember? You're my dominated love slave! Stupid boy..." I muttered as I pushed past him. "What's for breakfast?"
"Your favorite! Eggs and orange mocha frappuccinos!"
"Tre! That's your favorite!" I whined. "Oh well, I can deal."
"How does it feel to be old?" Tre asked as we bounded down the steps.
"I'm not old! I'm only... uh... let's see. 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 19!" I exclaimed. As you might tell, I can only count in fours, drummer... I taught that to Tre, and now it's his thing as well. Stupid boy.
"Okay. Fine! I'm turning old soon!" he moaned.
"Only a few days less than a few months, today is July 11th, and your birthday is December 9th. I don't know what that is. You can figure it out!" I patted him on the head and sat down at the kitchen table. Kitchen. Ha! Even if this is a two-story apartment, the rooms are hardly there, we were lucky enough to get a two-bedroom one! Although they are barely what they advertise to be. I scooped eggs onto my plate and poured a chunk of the coffee drink into a plastic cup, green (if you can tell). I took most of it.
"No fair! MY orange mocha frappuccino!" he wailed.
"Fine, I'll be nice. This is your cup!" I told him. He reached for it and I licked the entire rim, then handed it out to him. He made a face and grabbed it. Then he downed the whole thing in under ten seconds.
"Brain freeze?" He scrunched up his face and flung his head back.
"Yeah!" he squeaked.
"Aw, I'm sorry!" I cooed. I got up and went to where he was standing in a shock. I massaged his head.
"Hey!" he snapped. I snatched my hand away. "No messing with the hawk!"
"Okay, fine. Enjoy your brain freeze."
"Okay, help, please!" I massaged again. After about a minute, I stopped and kissed his forhead.
"How's my little slavey?" I asked.
"Better." he simply put it.
"Tre, sit down! You're going to get another brain freeze from those remains of the orange mocha frappuccino, and I don't want you to collapse like last time."
"Oh, yeah, that one was bad..." I thought back to last week. He had a Verdi-sized one at Starbucks that he had custom-made, and he downed it, again in under ten seconds, practically a world-record. It hit him so fast he didn't know what did, and he fell straight onto the floor, banging his head on the armrest of the couch. I had to nurse him back to health.
"Beastie girl? Can you make some more?" Tre asked sweetly.
"It's my birthday!"
"But you won't let me up..."
"Fine... but where's my sexies?"
"Remember? It rained yesterday, losing you your last sexy."
"Oh. Yeah. Well, maybe for a birthday present..." I nudged him.
"Okay. Maybe. It depends on how good you duplicate my orange mocha frappuccino!" he challenged.
"You're on." And I made THE perfect one.
"Darn, you won... I'll give you one sexy. So, sexy beast, you want your last one back?" he asked.
"Yes, Tre! Yes!" I yelled excitedly. Someone from next door pounded on their wall, making it echo into the kitchen.
"Okay, the way to get it is: Kiss up to me." he answered with a smile.
"Oky! Tre is so shmexy!" I moaned. "He is the dominated love slave! He is uber-hott, with two T's, and he has... uh... good clothes?"
"Not really what I had in mind..." he muttered under his breath, expecting me not to hear, but I did.
"He is so wonderful! So wonderful, in fact, that I ca do this!" I bent over and hugged him, or rather squeezed him to death, and kissed him. "See? So wonderful! Gimme my sexy!" He turned red and nodded shyly.
"Okay." he said quietly, not meaning to, really.
"Tre? Tre Cool? Tre Cool being... SHY?" My jaw dropped.
"It's nothing." he said, then he got up, some of his orange mocha frappuccino untouched (and that's saying something), and left the room.
"What?" he asked stupidly.
"You know. Do it now!" I commanded.
"Fine!" he yelled. "Happy Birthday, Greenlee."
"Thanks you!" I said as I stretched my arms. Yes, I'm still in bed. Who cares? "Tre?"
"What now?" he asked, all annoyed at me.
"Where do you dye your hair? I want mine green to match my name..."
"One of the people at the salon place does it. I just realized something!"
"What?"
"Today! Today isn't any birthday, today is Green Day!" he declared.
"Right, now please leave, I need to get dressed."
"Aww, why?" he whined.
"Perv!" I yelled as I threw my pillow at him. He caught it and pretended to lick it. "Leave!"
"Fine." he pouted, then I heard his footsteps go down the stairs. I got up and closed my door, then, as I said, I got dressed. It's hard to get privacy, living with Tre, because a lot of times he barges into my room. Ever since he left his house, he was bugging me to get an apartment with him.
Finally, I caved, and we've had this dump for about two months. Let me tell you a bit about both of us. Me first! Yay me! My name is Greenlee Independence (yes, it is a real name) Joe. Which is why Tre teases me by calling me GI Joe. Bleh. Mostly I'm called Green, though. I have flaming red hair by nature and blue eyes that shocks even my own roommate, and that's saying something, as he has to look in the mirror at his own eyes. I'm punky, I have the style, and I play the music. I live its life, but I get lazy more often than not.
Tre is a pervert. 'Nuff said. He usually has his brownish blonde hair, but now it's green, in a faux hawk, and his eyes are ice blue. He is way to silly to function, and I can't get through even my first hour of my awakening without laughing. He has the same personality as me, except the funny and perverted part, obviously. And here's a secret (don't tell or I'll kill you, literally kill you): I actually, maybe, might, definately... love him. Maybe. I might love him. It's complicated, because it started when we were 13.
-Flashback-
It was my first day of eighth grade at a new school, and I was nervous as all hell. I knew not a soul, and I'm... diferent then most, a.k.a. pink hair, black clothes, skateboarder... you get the picture. The bell rung quickly, signalling me to go to class, this crummy school having only one class for all of the subject. The teacher had written on the board for us to choose our own seats, then she'd rearrange us later. I picked a seat in the middle, not the front, not the back. Within seconds, a guy sat next to me. He had the same style as me and gave me a suggestive look.
"Hello, I shall be serving you, your own personal dominated love slave," he said, offering his hand. I poked it.
"Okay, then I shall be your sexy sexy beast, but if I get rained on, one comes off, and only you can award me with another," I joked.
"Alrighty then! My name is... Cool," he told me.
"Cool?"
"Tre Cool," he said cockily, with a cheeky grin.
"Oh, okay. My name is Greenlee. My full boring name is Greenlee Independence Joe. Bleh." I made a face.
"Haha! G.I. Joe!" he laughed.
"Now you get the sickness," I replied. "So, even if it hasn't even been five minutes, we friends?" I asked.
"Why not?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at me. I laughed.
-End flashback-
Yep, that's when it started. I think, for my New Year's Revolution I will tell him so, but for now, I'll see how things end up, because I usually do the opposite of my revolutions. Tre hollered up the stairs for me and I yelled back, "I'm coming, my slave!" I heard him pound up again.
"'Slave'?"
"Remember? You're my dominated love slave! Stupid boy..." I muttered as I pushed past him. "What's for breakfast?"
"Your favorite! Eggs and orange mocha frappuccinos!"
"Tre! That's your favorite!" I whined. "Oh well, I can deal."
"How does it feel to be old?" Tre asked as we bounded down the steps.
"I'm not old! I'm only... uh... let's see. 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 19!" I exclaimed. As you might tell, I can only count in fours, drummer... I taught that to Tre, and now it's his thing as well. Stupid boy.
"Okay. Fine! I'm turning old soon!" he moaned.
"Only a few days less than a few months, today is July 11th, and your birthday is December 9th. I don't know what that is. You can figure it out!" I patted him on the head and sat down at the kitchen table. Kitchen. Ha! Even if this is a two-story apartment, the rooms are hardly there, we were lucky enough to get a two-bedroom one! Although they are barely what they advertise to be. I scooped eggs onto my plate and poured a chunk of the coffee drink into a plastic cup, green (if you can tell). I took most of it.
"No fair! MY orange mocha frappuccino!" he wailed.
"Fine, I'll be nice. This is your cup!" I told him. He reached for it and I licked the entire rim, then handed it out to him. He made a face and grabbed it. Then he downed the whole thing in under ten seconds.
"Brain freeze?" He scrunched up his face and flung his head back.
"Yeah!" he squeaked.
"Aw, I'm sorry!" I cooed. I got up and went to where he was standing in a shock. I massaged his head.
"Hey!" he snapped. I snatched my hand away. "No messing with the hawk!"
"Okay, fine. Enjoy your brain freeze."
"Okay, help, please!" I massaged again. After about a minute, I stopped and kissed his forhead.
"How's my little slavey?" I asked.
"Better." he simply put it.
"Tre, sit down! You're going to get another brain freeze from those remains of the orange mocha frappuccino, and I don't want you to collapse like last time."
"Oh, yeah, that one was bad..." I thought back to last week. He had a Verdi-sized one at Starbucks that he had custom-made, and he downed it, again in under ten seconds, practically a world-record. It hit him so fast he didn't know what did, and he fell straight onto the floor, banging his head on the armrest of the couch. I had to nurse him back to health.
"Beastie girl? Can you make some more?" Tre asked sweetly.
"It's my birthday!"
"But you won't let me up..."
"Fine... but where's my sexies?"
"Remember? It rained yesterday, losing you your last sexy."
"Oh. Yeah. Well, maybe for a birthday present..." I nudged him.
"Okay. Maybe. It depends on how good you duplicate my orange mocha frappuccino!" he challenged.
"You're on." And I made THE perfect one.
"Darn, you won... I'll give you one sexy. So, sexy beast, you want your last one back?" he asked.
"Yes, Tre! Yes!" I yelled excitedly. Someone from next door pounded on their wall, making it echo into the kitchen.
"Okay, the way to get it is: Kiss up to me." he answered with a smile.
"Oky! Tre is so shmexy!" I moaned. "He is the dominated love slave! He is uber-hott, with two T's, and he has... uh... good clothes?"
"Not really what I had in mind..." he muttered under his breath, expecting me not to hear, but I did.
"He is so wonderful! So wonderful, in fact, that I ca do this!" I bent over and hugged him, or rather squeezed him to death, and kissed him. "See? So wonderful! Gimme my sexy!" He turned red and nodded shyly.
"Okay." he said quietly, not meaning to, really.
"Tre? Tre Cool? Tre Cool being... SHY?" My jaw dropped.
"It's nothing." he said, then he got up, some of his orange mocha frappuccino untouched (and that's saying something), and left the room.
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