Tattoos

I'm 18 Now

The annoying beeping of my alarm clock erupted through the room. I groaned and rolled over, smacking the annoying device.

Sluggishly, I rolled out of bed, rubbing at my eyes to make myself more aware. It was eight in the morning and I was extremely tired. I went to sleep the previous night at a late hour. Actually, I always go to sleep at a late hour. However last night just seemed more restless.

I tried to stand, but immediately collapsed to the floor, my legs weak from just waking up. I released a long, over-exaggerated sigh. Pushing my self into a sitting position, I looked around the room. Sunlight was streaming in through the window and music was softly playing through the speaker I neglected to switch off.

I stood up (thankfully not falling again) and made my way to the bathroom. I was practically tip toeing, trying to keep from waking up my roommate. As I carefully shut the bathroom door, I realized that I honestly didn't give a fuck if I woke him up.

I finished using the bathroom and waddled into the kitchen, shutting the door behind me. I looked around the kitchen but couldn't find anything. I wanted to cry.

Can't a man just have something to eat? (Right here I started writing and got like a paragraph done before realizing I switched to third person KMS) I opened the oven and smiled when seeing a pizza box sitting on the rack. I pulled it out and opened it, releasing a strangled cry when seeing there was only a black olive left, sitting in the back corner of the box. There were three slices left when I went to sleep. How could this happen? How could he be so cruel? And then leave the box there, so I could feel manipulated and dirty.

No, I'm not overreacting. You can't play this with me. Not Master Clifford.

Nuh uh, honey. Imma need you to try again.

I grabbed the box and the emergency taser we kept by the door. As I walked to his room, I mumbled under my breath about the god forsaken crime he has committed. Worse than taking the last slice, he took the last three.

I slowly opened his door. He was on his bed under a mound of blankets. I sat the box on his dresser and prepared to tase him, when I stopped to think.

Should I really electrocute him for this? Or find a less drastic punishment? I reflected back to when I taserd myself, just out of curiosity. It hurt like a bitch. And even though he's a punk, this guy is still one of the lads.

I decide against giving him a rude awakening, grabbing a Sharpie instead. I drew a dick on his nose, then proceeded to write "call me daddy" on his cheeks. Last but not least, I drew a swastika of dicks on his pretty little forehead.

Proud of my work, I kissed his head and exited the room. I didn't bother to take a picture, as this would happen again soon.

I decided to make myself some toast and nutella. As in, I'd eat nutella from the jar while making toast, then put more nutella on the toast when it was done. And probably eat more nutella off the spoon again.

As I wait for my toast, I look around the apartment. I remember wanting to move out to gain more 'independence', but now I just have bills and tears.

My parents were okay with me moving out. Though they wanted me to wait a little longer, they apparently figured it would happen soon anyways. I moved out earlier this year, my moving out I mean. The original plan of living alone didn't work out. I couldn't find an apartment that I could afford alone that wasn't shady or gross.

One place even had a g-string in the bathroom sink.

So I got a roommate.

Luke wasn't a bad guy. He was actually one of my best mates. I didn't like him for a while though. I can't remember why, if there was a reason at all. I think he just annoyed me. Noodle armed breadstick. He is 17, a year younger than me.