Trash? Ok. Rejected? Cool. Now Let Me Be Lazy.

Annabelle Rose

The night kind went by in a flash.

The girl and I had fun. We danced and partied our asses off.

I never got a good look at her face.

She is good at dancing! And she knows how to salsa like a fucking champ!

Then I ended up passing out in a laundry room in a basket full of towels.

Urgh!

Wow!

Ow! My fucking head!

I woke up with a deep inhale and the sun just started to peek out. My head said 'eat this motherfucker! ' Dancing around like its life depended on it!

I sat up. Feeling a small crinkle in my coat pocket.

Ow! Sore! Everywhere!

Bruise. Bruise. Rug burn. Bruise. Hickey.

Hickey!? Uh, forget that last one.

I forced my aching hand into my jacket.

When I pulled out this piece of paper, its message made me smile.

' If you ever decide to leave your pack. Maybe your next destination should be Washington, D.C.

Wink!"

She actually wrote wink.

So cute.

I pushed air out my nose in a small snort. Feeling that even my cheeks were sore.

What the hell!?

I put the note back into my pocket and quickly scrambled my way out of the laundry basket.

Ugh! I put my hands on my back and arched my back. I heard a crack and groaned. I believe this type of stretching curves your spine.

But it feels so good!

I walked with my hand on my back like a big ol' pregnant gal.

I found my way to the front door and merrily skipped my way home. Skipped being sarcastic.

Regretting that I never asked for that girl's name or number!
....

Oh, good grief! Why did the first person I see when I get home have to be this buttmunch?

" Mallory!"

YES BRANDON IT'S MALLORY! I THINK I'LL SEW A VOLUME BUTTON TO YOUR THROAT FOR CHRISTMAS!

SHUT THE FUCK UP! MY HEAD IS KILLING ME!

" Yup. Goodnight."

Too tired to say my actual thoughts. Bed is my only best friend now and forever.

Brandon was stunned as I just brushed past him and went into the house.

I immediately locked the door and went on my merry way.

He started to bang on the door and call out.

Asking me where I was and how he was so worried.

Blah, blah, don't be cold. Blah, blah, blah.

If only there was a rally of assassins that hate him enough to just smite him off the earth. Or collapse his ribs. Or sew his mouth to his anus.

I'll take either which.

Before I headed upstairs I was stopped by Zoey.

Glaring at me in her usual punk rocker meets lolita goth glory.