Dead For Christmas

Chapter 2. What Did I Do?

"Somebody's up late," Valarie sneered.

"Val, I came in late, so, of course, I'm gonna be up late. Hey, since when were you the hall monitor anyway?" Syla snorted.

"You need to try hopping back in bed, roll over a couple of times and try the getting up thing again, you're being a grouch," Valarie groaned waving her arms around as if she were at a concert of some kind.

"Who cares what you think Val, you're always trying to tell somebody what to do, how to dress or what to think, I'm gonna do me and if you don't like it, well that's just gonna be tough for you to handle then won't it?" 

"Whatever, Oscar the Grouch,"

"Bite me, I got another date tonight, I need to make sure I'm perfect go hound someone else, okay,"

"Awe, but I love hounding you, you get so irritated," Valarie said playfully with a giggle.

"It's Three o'clock, I need to get things ready, so, I'm not even gonna pay any attention to you,"

"That's fine, I can wait, but not forever Sy," Valarie sighed pushing herself up off of the couch.

"Go to hell, Val"

"Okay, whatever you say, princess Syla," Valarie bowed in Syla's direction.

Today being Thanksgiving, Syla decided her sky blue dress with its matching accessories would go great for her Thanksgiving date tonight. Syla jumped into the shower. Sneaking in, Valarie stands on the chair she quietly placed on the side of the shower. Over the top, she dumps a stench-filled liquid all over Syla. Syla screams.

"So, fucking disgusting, Val, I'm gonna get you for that," Syla yells, wiping her face off.

Valarie laughs, running out from the bathroom. Heading to her room with her posture straightened and her smirk spread manically across her face. Valarie grabs a book from her bookshelf. Lying down onto her King-sized waterbed, she opens her book called - When We Were Magic by Sarah Gailey, smiling at her job well done. Valarie pops up, cross-legged hunching over into the book, her eyes scanning over it with major interest.

"A little bit of this, a little bit of that," Syla chuckled.

Mixing sugar, molasses, cooking grease, maple syrup, into a big mixing bowl. Syla takes her mixture and a bag of unopened flour up to the back way of Valarie's room. Peeking in at her, Syla smirks, tip-toes behind her. Pouring the mixture over Valarie. Valarie screams, hopping off of the bed, arms out-stretched, and an oh-my-god look. Syla whips the now open bag of flour around, making sure to saturate Valarie in the powdery white covering after the sticky one.

"That's what you get, stupid choco-mocha latte," Syla laughs.

"You ruined my book, and my clothes, Syla, you're such an arrogantly, idiotic, racist bitch," Valarie yelled, shaking some of the mixtures off her arms and onto the floor.

"I'm not being racist, You're the one that goes around claiming you're choco-mocha mama, since you're mulatto, I'm only referring to your own references, ugh," Syla storms out of Valarie's room, tossing the rest bag of flour to the floor.

"I'll get you for that, stupid queen wannabe," Valarie called out. 

Syla pranced into her room where she started getting ready for her Thanksgiving date. Deciding her hair-do, pulling her hair up, then twisting it, deciding to leave it down and wavy. Pulling her sky blue backless and strapless dress over her slender body, zipping up the back effortlessly. Sitting at her vanity she played with make-up ideas. Finally deciding that a sparkly light brown eye shadow, a cream-colored blush, and a berry maroon lipstick would stand out nicely.