"I saw you with him." St Jimmy mutters, pinning Whatsername to a leather chair.
She sighs, "You saw who?"
"Don't fucking lie to me." St Jimmy says, getting more pissed off by the second.
"What do you want from me, Jimmy? Fuck you." Whatsername whispers.
"What was I to you?" St Jimmy asks.
Whatsername just scoffs.
"What the fuck was I to you!?" St Jimmy yells.
"A friend, someone I loved, and a fucking memory. A beautiful fucking memory." She whispers.
"You know what? I don't love you. You don't even get to be a memory." St Jimmy mutters.
"Nice fucking tattoo then." Whatsername whispers.
St Jimmy kisses Whatsername, but she tilts her head to where he can for only a millisecond.
She sits there, breathing heavily as Jimmy walks away.
She then gets up, picking up a stone and throwing it at Jimmy, "Fuck you!" She yells.
"Oh what, you're gonna come after me!?" St Jimmy growls, running back as Whatsername cries, pinning her to a wall.
"Let me go!" She cries, trying to shove Jimmy's arms away from her, breathing heavily.
"You are just a fucking pair of tits." St Jimmy mumbles, pressing a finger to Whatsername's forehead to her breasts.
"That's all you've ever been to me."
"I-I-" Whatsername squirms, managing to shove Jimmy away from her, "Go!" She growls.
Jimmy walks off angrily, the punk/scene/goth tribe staring at him as he walks.
I'm the son of rage and love
The Jesus of Suburbia
The bible of none of the above
On a steady diet of
Soda Pop and Ritalin
No one ever died for my
Sins in hell
As far as I can tell
At least the ones that I got away with
