•Folley ✔︎

Chapter 5

Ha.

Ahahaha.

I, Noel Folley, am officially doomed. Alas, my friends, we've survived this long. Might as well wish you well before Ms. Girl over here punts me into the sun.

Well, in no universe would this end well. Unless Mr. Sweaty Fuck and Electrocuted Deb wanna.. y'know....

"Noel Folley, that would be enough! How about you head upstairs--" She started. Oh, hallelujah. My lord and savior. Shout-out to Mrs. Charmin, who is currently digging me out of some deep shit.

"No, no, he did nothing wrong. He's had a difficult life and that's easy for us to understand... we haven't changed our minds about taking him in. Please, do you have a pen? I don't think I'll be able to concentrate with a... Minnie Mouse styled pencil..." The woman inspected the mechanical pencil in her hand. I remember how we got it here, too. The last couple who'd wanted to adopt me thought I was a girl, and somehow came up with the idea that all girls liked Minnie Mouse. Even if I was a girl, Minnie is probably a little dated for my taste. No offense, Minnie.

I look over. Bobby is staring at me. Once I notice his gaze, he moves his large, sweaty hand and ruffles my hair, Emphasis on the sweaty part. That was disgusting. I don't cry often, but I might as well with these people around me. Oh, he smells awful! Holy fuck, when did he last shower?! Seriously! Nobody's hygiene is this bad. Bobby must be breaking a record for 'Worst Smelling Human On Earth.'

"You're such a good boy!" He says.

What the fuck am I, a dog? That's it. I'm over this.

"Can I... um, be excused?" I say. Patty gives me a, 'What are you doing, Noel Folley?' look, but nods her head. I stand up, heading upstairs. I know there's a dumpster right under the bedroom's window. And, this might sound crazy, but I'm gonna jump out the window and escape this dump like the impulsive shithead I am.

I'm sure many others would do the same. Luckily, all the little fuckers who live here are busy; either at school, working, or somewhere smoking and running away from their problems. That being said, I have nobody to come snitch on me as I jump out this window and sprint faster than the speed of sound. Sorry, Debbie and Bob. Go home and serve a normal life where some random ass child won't make fun of your last name. Hah. Charmin Ultra Soft.

I open the window. Don't get me wrong, it's not that high of a jump. But I can't say that I'll be happy, becoming acquainted with a big, smelly dumpster. Or a concrete ground if this jump doesn't end well.

Oh well. You only live once, right?

I slide the window open. Dust, dirt, and bugs (mostly dead ones... what a fun time, seeing those...) coated the window sill. The window itself was broken. I look down. There sits the glorious dumpster, wide open, flies surrounding it.

I jump down, landing inside.

I didn't think this through well enough. It smells worse than Bob... and I thought anything smelling worse than him was impossible.

I climbed out of the dumpster, making a run for it.