Deadbeat Holiday., chapter 2
I stared at the pavement as if it held all of the answers to my problems. All the answers I couldn't find.
I began the long walk home. It seemed long, only because I purposely missed the bus so I didn't have to face prying eyes, I didn't need it, not now, anyway.
Yellowcard felt appealing at the time, so I put on "Breathing," and got hypnotized by the guitar riffs and drum beats.
I slowly walked up the stairs in my room only to get my skateboard, then to get the fuck out of reality. It was a shorter distance then on foot this way. I didn't usually skate, but Steve-o taught me how to a little bit. I'll do the asshole a little tribute. I took out a can of spray-paint and vandalized the snake pit even more, only my markings were visible over all of the other crap that was mindlessly put there.
I dropped into the half pipe and began to skate, doing whatever random tricks I could pull off without stacking it. Still, the sounds of punk rock filled my ears until someone pulled my board out from underneath me.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" I yelled as I picked myself up.
"Getting your attention," a boy, about 3 or 4 years older then me said.
"Why?" I questioned.
"Because..." he answered.
"I don't care, just gimme my board back," I demanded.
He shook his head.
"Give me my fucking board, asshole!" I demanded, louder this time. The other people at the park shot us a glance.
Still, the asshole shook his head.
"Fucking hell, I'm giving you one more fucking chance, if you don't want to have the shit beaten out of you by a girl," I said, a little more calmly.
He shook his head once again with a smirk on his face, he dropped it so it was on the rim of the edge.
"Fucking break it, and I'll recount to you what you did to my board. NOW GIVE IT BACK!" I yelled.
This time a guy who looked a bit older than him came over to us.
"Listen to the fucking chick, give her the board." Not a tinge of sarcasm was found in his voice, just a foreign accent.
This time the asshole spoke. "No," it said.
The new guy punched him in the stomach and made Asshole keel over, and into the snake pit in pain. He handed me my board.
"Thanks," I said.
"No problem, there's a lot of assholes in this world. They're so fucking pathetic, they pick on girls," he replied proudly.
"I take offence to that," I said jokingly.
He laughed it off and extended his hand for a shake.
"Bam," he said.
"Morreh, I'm the owner of Morreh's house of kinky pain," I replied.
"Hmm...kinky house of pain, maybe I'll drop by one day," he said suggestively.
"It's been about seven minutes, and you're already hitting on me," I stated.
Bam laughed. "Well you're the one who talked about house of kinky pain," he shot back.
"Now now, Bam, no need to be pointing anything at a time like this," I said as I motioned to his crotch, which, by the way, was NOT hard.
"Perverted one," he said.
"What did I say about pointing?!" I asked again.
"That I shouldn't do it?" he said in a little kid's voice.
"Yes, very good, Bam...wait. You're not from around here, eh?" I asked.
"Nope, I come from the States," he answered.
"I thought so; you didn't really have the Aussie accent," I responded.
"Racist," he murmured under his breath.
I poked his arm. "What's the time?" I asked.
"Uh...about 5 P.M., why?" he said.
"Holy shit! I have to get home!" I said shrilly.
"Aww..." he whined.
"What? It's not like I'm interesting or anything," I snapped.
"That's bullshit, and you know it. Give me your number and expect a text message in the next few days," he said.
I laughed, "Someone's confident." I wrote my number on the bottom of his board in a red sharpie.
"See ya round, Bam," I called over my shoulder.
He nodded and dropped down the pit and continued to punch Asshole.
I walked through the front door with a smile on my face.
"He's at it again; he's at it again--"
"Hello, Morreh's kinky sex house. Morreh speaking?" I said.
"Told ya you should expect a call," Bam said in a sorta weird voice.
"Yeah...in the next few days," I said smugly.
"Meh, what's up?" he asked.
"More like what's up with you calling me about twenty minutes after I left you," I shot back.
"I'm bored, okay?" he asked in a kind of high voice.
"Dude, whats up with you?!" I asked.
"Nothing, nothing's wrong," he replied.
"Alright, I'm gonna have to let you go now--" He cut me off.
"No! Don't go!" he insisted.
"Bam! I thought nothing was wrong," I said.
"Yeah...it's...don't worry. I'll talk to you later," he said.
"Okay...if anything's up, call me! Okay?!" I said.
"Yeah, same with you, if anything's upsetting you, call me, okay?! Talk to you later," he said.
I didn't get a chance to reply because he ended the call.
All I'm saying is guys are weird.
An hour later, Mum walked through the door with another piece of paper in her hand, and tears streaming down her cheeks, again.
"Mum...what happened?" I asked.
She didn't seem to respond, she just walked to her and Dad's room, then shut and locked the door.
"Fine. I will feel neglected!" I yelled sarcastically at no one.
About a half hour later, dad arrived home and acted the same way as Mum. This was starting to freak me out.
Well it was, until a knock at the door explained it all.
"Hello," a man wearing sunglasses and a hat said.
"Hey..." I said.
"Can I speak with your parents?" he asked.
I nodded and got Mum and Dad; they took one look at the guy and sent me to my room.
I swear they have a tendency to freak the shit out of me.
I was singing along to "Rough Landing, Holly," by Yellowcard, when my door opened. Mum came into my room followed by Dad and that random guy.
"Who's he?" I asked, not caring if I was rude.
"He's Frank," Mum answered.
"Well that explains a fucking lot now, doesn't it?" I asked sarcastically.
She rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, so who is he?!" I asked again.
"Frank..." the Frank dude cut in. "Frank Edwin Wright the third," he said.
"THAT'S TRE FUCKING COOL!" I practically screamed. "Why the fuck is he here?!?!" I yelled again.
"Because...Charles isn't your real father...Frank is."
"Whoa whoa! You mean you've been fucking lying to my for what, 17 years?!" I snapped.
I got up and walked to the door with my phone in my hand.
"Where are you going at this time of night?!" Mum demanded.
"To make a phone call," I answered.
I began the long walk home. It seemed long, only because I purposely missed the bus so I didn't have to face prying eyes, I didn't need it, not now, anyway.
Yellowcard felt appealing at the time, so I put on "Breathing," and got hypnotized by the guitar riffs and drum beats.
I slowly walked up the stairs in my room only to get my skateboard, then to get the fuck out of reality. It was a shorter distance then on foot this way. I didn't usually skate, but Steve-o taught me how to a little bit. I'll do the asshole a little tribute. I took out a can of spray-paint and vandalized the snake pit even more, only my markings were visible over all of the other crap that was mindlessly put there.
I dropped into the half pipe and began to skate, doing whatever random tricks I could pull off without stacking it. Still, the sounds of punk rock filled my ears until someone pulled my board out from underneath me.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" I yelled as I picked myself up.
"Getting your attention," a boy, about 3 or 4 years older then me said.
"Why?" I questioned.
"Because..." he answered.
"I don't care, just gimme my board back," I demanded.
He shook his head.
"Give me my fucking board, asshole!" I demanded, louder this time. The other people at the park shot us a glance.
Still, the asshole shook his head.
"Fucking hell, I'm giving you one more fucking chance, if you don't want to have the shit beaten out of you by a girl," I said, a little more calmly.
He shook his head once again with a smirk on his face, he dropped it so it was on the rim of the edge.
"Fucking break it, and I'll recount to you what you did to my board. NOW GIVE IT BACK!" I yelled.
This time a guy who looked a bit older than him came over to us.
"Listen to the fucking chick, give her the board." Not a tinge of sarcasm was found in his voice, just a foreign accent.
This time the asshole spoke. "No," it said.
The new guy punched him in the stomach and made Asshole keel over, and into the snake pit in pain. He handed me my board.
"Thanks," I said.
"No problem, there's a lot of assholes in this world. They're so fucking pathetic, they pick on girls," he replied proudly.
"I take offence to that," I said jokingly.
He laughed it off and extended his hand for a shake.
"Bam," he said.
"Morreh, I'm the owner of Morreh's house of kinky pain," I replied.
"Hmm...kinky house of pain, maybe I'll drop by one day," he said suggestively.
"It's been about seven minutes, and you're already hitting on me," I stated.
Bam laughed. "Well you're the one who talked about house of kinky pain," he shot back.
"Now now, Bam, no need to be pointing anything at a time like this," I said as I motioned to his crotch, which, by the way, was NOT hard.
"Perverted one," he said.
"What did I say about pointing?!" I asked again.
"That I shouldn't do it?" he said in a little kid's voice.
"Yes, very good, Bam...wait. You're not from around here, eh?" I asked.
"Nope, I come from the States," he answered.
"I thought so; you didn't really have the Aussie accent," I responded.
"Racist," he murmured under his breath.
I poked his arm. "What's the time?" I asked.
"Uh...about 5 P.M., why?" he said.
"Holy shit! I have to get home!" I said shrilly.
"Aww..." he whined.
"What? It's not like I'm interesting or anything," I snapped.
"That's bullshit, and you know it. Give me your number and expect a text message in the next few days," he said.
I laughed, "Someone's confident." I wrote my number on the bottom of his board in a red sharpie.
"See ya round, Bam," I called over my shoulder.
He nodded and dropped down the pit and continued to punch Asshole.
I walked through the front door with a smile on my face.
"He's at it again; he's at it again--"
"Hello, Morreh's kinky sex house. Morreh speaking?" I said.
"Told ya you should expect a call," Bam said in a sorta weird voice.
"Yeah...in the next few days," I said smugly.
"Meh, what's up?" he asked.
"More like what's up with you calling me about twenty minutes after I left you," I shot back.
"I'm bored, okay?" he asked in a kind of high voice.
"Dude, whats up with you?!" I asked.
"Nothing, nothing's wrong," he replied.
"Alright, I'm gonna have to let you go now--" He cut me off.
"No! Don't go!" he insisted.
"Bam! I thought nothing was wrong," I said.
"Yeah...it's...don't worry. I'll talk to you later," he said.
"Okay...if anything's up, call me! Okay?!" I said.
"Yeah, same with you, if anything's upsetting you, call me, okay?! Talk to you later," he said.
I didn't get a chance to reply because he ended the call.
All I'm saying is guys are weird.
An hour later, Mum walked through the door with another piece of paper in her hand, and tears streaming down her cheeks, again.
"Mum...what happened?" I asked.
She didn't seem to respond, she just walked to her and Dad's room, then shut and locked the door.
"Fine. I will feel neglected!" I yelled sarcastically at no one.
About a half hour later, dad arrived home and acted the same way as Mum. This was starting to freak me out.
Well it was, until a knock at the door explained it all.
"Hello," a man wearing sunglasses and a hat said.
"Hey..." I said.
"Can I speak with your parents?" he asked.
I nodded and got Mum and Dad; they took one look at the guy and sent me to my room.
I swear they have a tendency to freak the shit out of me.
I was singing along to "Rough Landing, Holly," by Yellowcard, when my door opened. Mum came into my room followed by Dad and that random guy.
"Who's he?" I asked, not caring if I was rude.
"He's Frank," Mum answered.
"Well that explains a fucking lot now, doesn't it?" I asked sarcastically.
She rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, so who is he?!" I asked again.
"Frank..." the Frank dude cut in. "Frank Edwin Wright the third," he said.
"THAT'S TRE FUCKING COOL!" I practically screamed. "Why the fuck is he here?!?!" I yelled again.
"Because...Charles isn't your real father...Frank is."
"Whoa whoa! You mean you've been fucking lying to my for what, 17 years?!" I snapped.
I got up and walked to the door with my phone in my hand.
"Where are you going at this time of night?!" Mum demanded.
"To make a phone call," I answered.
