"Jerry! Jerry, it's not safe out there--"
"Muurr."
"Whaddya mean they won't hurt you? You're in the line of fire! Get back here!"
"Mur."
"'No.'? Jerry! It's not safe! Come back here and put your sombrero back on--"
*Get's nailed with coffee mug*
"OW! Now that hurt! Jerry--"
*Dodges Christmas ornament*
*Dodges TV tray*
*Dodges rocking chair*
* Dodges champagne bottle*
"I hope you're drinking responsibly!*
*Dodges ice cream pail*
"Jerry! Jerry! Come here!"
*Gets beaned in the face with a sandwich*
"Who the hell puts carrots in a sandwich?! Jerry--"
*Jerry knocks me over rushing into bunker*
*whilst grasping bleeding nose, closes hatch*
*listens to hundreds of Christmas ornaments smashing against roof of bunker*
"Jerry, you about broke my nose. I told you to hurry up--"
*stares are Jerry*
"Jerry...Jerry is that a poptart."
*Jerry just keeps chewing*
"Jerry...did you risk your fucking neck for a poptart...?"
[ Jerry loves poptarts. Anywayyss.... Heeyy there! Sorry I didn't update over Christmas, I was busy with family and might have got caught up enjoying some of my presents (The Martian by Andy Weir is spectacular by the way), but here she is! Hopefully you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it! ]
Chapter 45:
Life used to be simple for me.
I used to get up at like seven in the morning. Usually shower, brush my teeth, pick out a polo and a pair of pants. Dab a little foundation over a few zits as I let my hair dry, maybe put a few teeny swipes of mascara on if I felt like it. Go downstairs and either toss a poptart in the toaster or pour myself a bowl of cereal. Then by like seven forty five I'd hop in my van and drive to school.
I used to go to my locker unmolested, grab books, and go to class. Sit quietly in the middle of the room, so I didn't have to be right up front, but not sitting with the morons in the back. Wrote careful notes from the day. Answer the occasional question if I was called on.
Eat in the cafeteria at a table filled with similarly intelligent acquaintances.
Go through the rest of my classes with no trouble, then go home to relax and do homework or help my parents grade their papers or whatnot. So simple.
I'd kill a man if I could get that simplicity back.
Maybe one specific one...
It is currently 1:03 pm and even though I barely ate anything at lunch, my stomach is flipping like I'd just devoured a plate of rotten eggs and plans on tossing them back out onto the pavement.
'Pavement'? Pavement you ask? Why am I outside? Well I'm outside the school, standing on the back street next to a giant, black, redneck pickup covered in window paint and balloons and tag board signs with sloppy stenciling on them.
YOU ARE READING
I'm The Geek Who Slapped A Football Player.
Teen Fiction*ALL RIGHTS RESERVED* Clarisse Hornitt is a nerd. Or a geek. But, not your typical nerd/geek, as she won't put up with bullshit and will promptly tell you how it is regardless to how it makes you feel. She manages to get into a physical altercation...
