morning.
Another piercing chime rings out and this time I groan.
I reach out, grabbing a spare pillow and cover my head with it. No doubt, the pillow that should be under my head is somewhere on the floor. As long as I can remember, I’ve always woken up, lying on my stomach with my face buried into the mattress. Today is no different.
A third chime comes through not even twenty seconds after the last followed by two more before I jut out my hand, feeling for my cell phone somewhere on the nightstand. Around the seventh or maybe eighth chime I locate the source of disruption. Without looking, I flip the switch to silent and then drop it back down.
It’s not like I don’t know who’s texting me.
Buzzing. Loud motherfucking buzzing is now jumping around to my side.
Assholes.
The person who invented text messaging should be punched in the dick.
The person who invented group texting capabilities should be shot in the aforementioned dick.
More, annoying buzzing.
Reaching over my head, I grab my pillow and bring it in front of me. Then I rise up and flip over onto my back while snatching my phone off the table.
Bingo.
My roommates, aka my friends, okay, well, maybe that’s a stretch. I mean, sure Mason and I are best friends and have been since first grade. Matt on the other hand, he’s more Mason’s friend than mine. I like the guy, he’s all right, and I’ve known him since junior high when he moved to Tupelo from California. That, I still don’t understand. People move out of Mississippi. No one moves to this shit hole of boredom. Then there is Tara, or Taralynn rather, but I call her Tara. She is a whole other story for another time when I’m coherent and awake.
Opening the text message, I scroll up to the top, to read through what these shits have included me into.
Tara: At the store, need anything?
Mason: Condoms
Tara: I’m serious, asswipe!
Mason: So am I. Can’t go blowing my shit into any cunt.
Mason: Bitches be nasty.
Matt: Hope you covered your shit with that ho from last night.
Mason: Don’t be calling my chicks hos.
Matt: Ok, skank then.
Mason: Fuck you. The bitch was hot.
Matt: I’ll pass, man. I’m satisfied with my permanent pussy.
Me: New fuckin’ roommates. That’s what I want.
Mason: Yeah, with big tits. They can room with me.
Tara: Um...Mase? What size? There’s a lot to choose from.
Matt: They probably don’t have a small enough size to fit his pencil dick.
Tara: Brand?
Me: He’s fucking with you, Tara. Jeez.
Mason: Sorry, I couldn’t resist. lol
It’s funny and I want to laugh, but the pounding inside my head won’t allow it. For someone as smart as she is, she doesn’t catch on to the obvious.
After tossing my phone onto the crumpled sheets, I roll out of bed to go locate something to take the pain away. After exiting my room I see the door to the bathroom is closed before I hear the awful noise of what’s most likely the latest pop crap coming from behind the door. That tells me, Matt’s little girlfriend must be in there. I think back, recalling she was here when I got home last night. I also recall the snooty little bitch being just that, a bitch to Tara. I don’t care if Amanda is her best friend’s girlfriend, I wouldn’t take that shit from her or her friend. They continually make digs and snide comments and I’m over it. But then Tara is the nice one, the one that doesn’t start shit; the one that keeps the peace. She stays non-confrontational for Matt.
Fuck that shit.
Speaking of Tara, my eyes land on her bedroom door. If she’s shopping that probably means she’s at Target and if that’s the case Tara won’t be home for a minimum of another hour. The nearest Target is in Horn Lake, a good hour from Oxford.
I enter her room, which is always clean and smells the best in the house. That’s not to say the rest of the house stinks, because it doesn’t. The plus of
Another piercing chime rings out and this time I groan.
I reach out, grabbing a spare pillow and cover my head with it. No doubt, the pillow that should be under my head is somewhere on the floor. As long as I can remember, I’ve always woken up, lying on my stomach with my face buried into the mattress. Today is no different.
A third chime comes through not even twenty seconds after the last followed by two more before I jut out my hand, feeling for my cell phone somewhere on the nightstand. Around the seventh or maybe eighth chime I locate the source of disruption. Without looking, I flip the switch to silent and then drop it back down.
It’s not like I don’t know who’s texting me.
Buzzing. Loud motherfucking buzzing is now jumping around to my side.
Assholes.
The person who invented text messaging should be punched in the dick.
The person who invented group texting capabilities should be shot in the aforementioned dick.
More, annoying buzzing.
Reaching over my head, I grab my pillow and bring it in front of me. Then I rise up and flip over onto my back while snatching my phone off the table.
Bingo.
My roommates, aka my friends, okay, well, maybe that’s a stretch. I mean, sure Mason and I are best friends and have been since first grade. Matt on the other hand, he’s more Mason’s friend than mine. I like the guy, he’s all right, and I’ve known him since junior high when he moved to Tupelo from California. That, I still don’t understand. People move out of Mississippi. No one moves to this shit hole of boredom. Then there is Tara, or Taralynn rather, but I call her Tara. She is a whole other story for another time when I’m coherent and awake.
Opening the text message, I scroll up to the top, to read through what these shits have included me into.
Tara: At the store, need anything?
Mason: Condoms
Tara: I’m serious, asswipe!
Mason: So am I. Can’t go blowing my shit into any cunt.
Mason: Bitches be nasty.
Matt: Hope you covered your shit with that ho from last night.
Mason: Don’t be calling my chicks hos.
Matt: Ok, skank then.
Mason: Fuck you. The bitch was hot.
Matt: I’ll pass, man. I’m satisfied with my permanent pussy.
Me: New fuckin’ roommates. That’s what I want.
Mason: Yeah, with big tits. They can room with me.
Tara: Um...Mase? What size? There’s a lot to choose from.
Matt: They probably don’t have a small enough size to fit his pencil dick.
Tara: Brand?
Me: He’s fucking with you, Tara. Jeez.
Mason: Sorry, I couldn’t resist. lol
It’s funny and I want to laugh, but the pounding inside my head won’t allow it. For someone as smart as she is, she doesn’t catch on to the obvious.
After tossing my phone onto the crumpled sheets, I roll out of bed to go locate something to take the pain away. After exiting my room I see the door to the bathroom is closed before I hear the awful noise of what’s most likely the latest pop crap coming from behind the door. That tells me, Matt’s little girlfriend must be in there. I think back, recalling she was here when I got home last night. I also recall the snooty little bitch being just that, a bitch to Tara. I don’t care if Amanda is her best friend’s girlfriend, I wouldn’t take that shit from her or her friend. They continually make digs and snide comments and I’m over it. But then Tara is the nice one, the one that doesn’t start shit; the one that keeps the peace. She stays non-confrontational for Matt.
Fuck that shit.
Speaking of Tara, my eyes land on her bedroom door. If she’s shopping that probably means she’s at Target and if that’s the case Tara won’t be home for a minimum of another hour. The nearest Target is in Horn Lake, a good hour from Oxford.
I enter her room, which is always clean and smells the best in the house. That’s not to say the rest of the house stinks, because it doesn’t. The plus of
Similar Books
