Raised Mateless (On Hold)

Chapter 3

Christopher Lawson -

"Get up, you lazy fuck!" Shane's voice shouted from the other side of my door.

I reluctantly dragged my dead-weight of a body mass from my mattress and tried to maneuver through the darkness to find the light switch. As the blinding light filled the room I found myself groaning in horror as my head started to spin.

"You'd think I was a bloodsucker or something, shit." I complained to no one, crushing beer cans here and there as I made my way to the bathroom.

It wasn't something I liked to brag about, often, but my bathroom looked like the Victoria's Secret model's change room. I had lace bras hanging from every hook, and a rainbow of panties brightening up the floor. I liked my women for the night, and their clothes liked me for the rest of the week.

I looked up at my reflection in the mirror, shrugging, "Whatever, good enough."

My dark hair needed a good washing - sticking up every which way, and I could even see the bags under my eyes with my tanned skin. I quickly splashed my face with water, and slapped my cheeks until I started to feel the grogginess of sleep fading away.

Shane had basically threatened me to look nice for today; I just grabbed a random pair of navy sweat-pants from the floor and a fitted black polo shirt for the day. Rebellious from the day I was born, and I would die that way.

Shane throwing this pity party for the neighbours was getting on my nerves, and cutting into my precious beauty sleep. I couldn't give two shits about who moved in where; people come, people go, big deal. Except for Shane everything is some event that needs a celebration.

Ever since we moved to this God forsaken town, I had to deal with Shane becoming the June Cleaver of the block. He's a hulking man of a werewolf and he would rather bake cookies for the neighbour kids than go out and find a new piece of ass for the night with me. Shane still went out with women, but ever since he lost Haliey he might as well be a shadow on the wall.

"Hey Sleeping Beauty, so glad you could gift us with your presence, at", Shane paused as he looked over his shoulder at the clock, "almost two in the afternoon."

"Man, chill, I'm up now." I chuckled, slapping him on the back as I walked past to the fridge. "What do you want me to do?"

He smirked, his eyes gleamed with an unknown thought, and I knew this wouldn't end well for me. "I need you to run out for some things."

I turned away searching through our fridge for anything salvable for lunch, and ended up settling for downing the milk carton. "Yeah whatever, brother, I got this."

"Sweet, you're picking up Mrs. Johnson's kids."

"What!" Milk spewed from my mouth, spraying across the marble counter top and poured onto the floor as my hand was clutching the carton with a death grip - puncturing holes along the sides. "Oh, hell no."

"I really don't give a shit, Chris; get going, if you're lucky you'll catch Mrs. Johnson just before her shower." He laughed, as he walked away with his back mocking me.

I shuddered at the thought of another run in with the infamous naked Mrs. Johnson. Ever since I had accidentally cut through her backyard, drunk, and found her skinny dipping it's been her life mission to make sure I get a full look at her barren wasteland of a body. After three kids, I can safely say, her only sexual attribute is the fact she is willing to have sex with a lamp if it looked at her the right way.

Every step I took towards the Johnson's place I felt the very marrow in my bones begging me to turn around and just go back to bed. If there was one thing I hated more than a ragged cougar, was dealing with her demon spawn of cubs. I hate children. All kinds, every kind, every age, shape, height, colour, gender, I can't stand them. They are all stupid, spoiled, bratty, grubby, and never listen. I respected the kind of women that had their kids on leashes, or better yet, didn't have kids to begin with.