ojgiowejf

Lol. I'd love to write about the swine flu, but we all know it would just be another "The Stand." Without the magic and the nuke, though. That's all King.

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I got really bored there.

Like really.

A blank stare. That was all she deserved.

"Your turn," he said against a backdrop of ten collapsed pins.

"God, you're good."

"Thaaat's what she said."

I shook my head, yawned, and prepared myself for another pair of gutter balls. "We need to stop doing this so late. Eventually it'll just catch up to us and fuck over our grades. Or something else equally unimportant." I set up to bowl.

Will mocked-- and poorly, I might add-- our algebra teacher's voice, "Ya'll begettin' ya homework done now, ya hur meh?"

I was laughing so hard that it fucked up my bowling. The release sent my ball flying into the next lane (one that was currently being used, too). It sunk into the gutter and reset the guy's current round. He looked over at me as if I were the biggest douche bag. Will was on the floor, laughing just as loud. "Kay," I said, "I think we should probably get out of here." 

"Sorry, dude," I called back to the man as we left. 

That's one of the things I love about him. He laughs just as loud as I do at all the same things. I hope he still can after all this. Somehow. 

God fuck this so much. 

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Please, no. Please no. Please no.

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She loves him.

Are you fucking JOKING right now?

Whoa, fuck off. What right do you think you have to decide if someone still does or doesn't love somebody? 

I have every fucking right to assume. Don't hate me for trying to use my intelligence to predetermine an answer to a general thought. She "loved" him, and we all know how thin teenage love stretches. He's hurt now. He's hurt. And she's not going to fucking stick around with him forever. Is she going to feed him? Is she going to lift his toothbrush up and brush his teeth every night for the rest of their lives? Are they that much in love? FUCK no. . . . Fuck no. 

I hope you die.

Don't you mean "I hope I die"? (I sat there looking at her and I could feel how mean I'd just sounded.)

Then she threw something at me (I forget what it was) and ran away. I'd struck a nerve. She'd probably end up crying. Good. That makes me happy.

Made me happy, at least.

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People are people, so why should it be? that you and I don't get along . . .