𝐈𝐈𝐈| 𝐈'𝐦 𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

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A/n

Hehe I just got in Hawaii— my car is taking too fucking long help💀💀

(HEHEH TITLE IS AFTER  ALICE COOPER SONG)
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Part III

I'm Eighteen

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Those muffins look stale and resembles my 10th grade biology teacher.. Jesus fucking— is that— they just have fucking wine out? What is that.. December 4th... HOLY MOTHER OF— 1976– that one is like 20 years old—-

"Well Y/— Y/n? Hello?" I heard Tim ask. Very abruptly, ripping me out of focus from losing focus from this boring edgy theater performance that I've seen better preformed by a group of 14 year olds obsessed with Metallica and Nirvana. "Oh yes.. ah, amazing.." I spoke. Clapping and nodding my head. God, I've seen Disney actors better at lying than my Benjamin Franklin ass. 

"Amazing huh? Guess you need to get your eyes and ears checks, 'cause about half the cast screwed up on their lines and barely was able to so their stunts on time. You still call that amazing, liar?" Someone stated. I peered around to piece together context clues on who was saying this. "Well, why does my opinion matter any—" I spoke up. Getting interrupted, seeing Johnny stood out from the heard. "Because we want a public opinion, that's what you do as your job basically, yes?" He spoke. 

"I am a writer— not a journalist—" I spoke. Getting interrupted again. "Same thing, writer, journalist.. You always have something to say." Johnny remarked. "Take this seriously, this isn't high school anymore, sweetheart. You actually have to do your job, pay attention." Johnny added. I was dumbfounded, my mouth agape as my eyebrows were scrunched, a very taken back offended look being left behind as I scoffed at him. What's his damage, I guess he really must care, I mean, I would care too from how horrible he was at his job--

Thats a lie, he's good, it's just, how the fuck does that little shit think he is? What is he, 30? Starting fights with a 19 year old, how pathetic, and such a dick move. It's not like I've been in the entertainment endustracy since the dawn of time like his moldy ass.

I kicked out of my chair and aggressively slammed it against the wall as I pushed myself off of it, storming off to the washroom, seeing 3 out of the.. oh god... I stumbled out of the washroom, throwing up a little bit in my mouth, keeping my head down as I limped back over to the set. "Woah, woah... Y/n,  you look like shit, what happened?" I heard someone ask. Getting met with the same memory of what I saw in there, quickly ripping the lid off the trash can and having the painful feeling of stomach acid spray out my mouth as I threw my guts out. "My god, Y/n, have some decentcy, that was the recycling bin for christs sake." I heard a dick say. Turning and seeing Johnny staring at me.

Mainly in shock, as it formed in some weird expression of distress, discomfort, and disgust. The three d's that I see from this d-hole.

"Oh fuck off, JOHN.. You haven't seen someone had sex in a public bathroom." I spoke. Throwing my guts out, saying his name like it was an insult. Hearing him snickering at me, then breaking out into full, dying, rolling on the floor laughing. Patting my back before saying some smart ass remark. "I bet hat the most action you've been through in the history of your whole life. I know how lonely writters lives are, and yours fits that exact representation." Johnny spoke. Looking me up and down before walking off.

What a fucker

What a fucking dick

Like he can be talking, I bet he hasn't felt the touch of a women since his 3rd divorce, her leaving him.

I wanted to say something, but I was busy, you know, thorwing my guts out, flipping him the bird in response.

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"Y/n..."

"..we've gotten a few complaints from out cast, that you create for them a costle work envirement... So we would like it if you could maybe, stop whatever you're doing.. so that we all can get along." Tim spoke. I was mildly able to understand about... 1/4 of whatever the fuck he just said. I had just the slightest of a hint of who could've possibly ever reported me to create a costle work envirement. I peered around and saw the unfazed expression and slight smirk from Johnny as I glared at his smug ass. "No problem, Burton." I replied. In a very agressive low tone, glaring at Johnny as I scoff, ripping around and storming off.

Inhaling deeply as I grab my jacket, throwing my back over my shoulder as I did the same with my coat.

Pissed, I slammed my palms against the exit and pushed it open, getting thrown with mixed smell of piss and shit as teh bright light shinned in my face. Storming down the street, my free hand balled into a fist as my other held onto the strap of my bag. Waiting by the cross walk to the garage, when suddenly I get met with an english lady.

"You good? Wanna smoke?" She asked. I glanced over before fully turning over to look her up and down, this chick was... who was that... stick thin model... what the hell was she even doin in public anyway? Oh right, to get reconignized and have her ego stroked. "I don't smoke, thanks." I replied. Turning back to look at the cross walk. "You're a good kid, huh? Names Vanessa, what about you?" She replied. Pulling her ciggerette back and lighting it for herself. I hate smoking, and smokers, I never got it whenever my friends smoked around me or got high. 

"I know who you are, I'm Y/n." I replied. "No kidding, us models really get out there, what do you do? Or are you still in college?--" She asked. "I'm a writter.. and screenwritter, I just left from the set of uh.. Sleepy hallow or whatever, fuckin assholes." I replied. "Really? This guy I've talking to is in that movie I think--" She replied. Before I interrupted her. "Yeah, Johnny Depp, fuckin cunt faced whore." I snapped back. Walking across the street, replaying what happened to day in utter cringe, regretting coming to the set entirely today.

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A/n

Hehe, it took a while to write that, I hope u enjoyed it tho---

And for the ppl that follow me, this will probably be the story I'll be working on until I finish it-- just so you know--- hehe

-Angel <3333

Insta: @03angel09

08.13-15.23

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