"this is illegal," i whined as we walked through the tar black cover of night in the street light free suburbs.
"i'm a nice girl!" i whined even louder.
"he deserves it!" she whisper yelled enthusiastically.
jodi sprays on the car, on the garage door, on the house, bright red spray paint. "cheater," "asshole," "dickhead,"
i poked my head closer to the window, away from the glare, finally seeing inside.
"man this place is a dump," jodi said, just a little too loud.
the neighbor's door opened.
"hey! what are you up to?" a man yelled. we ran, fast, away from the house.
"that bastard," i sighed, ducking behind a dumpster.
i didn't always live in the city. my first eleven years were spent in the same house, in the same tiny town, in the same tiny backwards place in Missouri. where the Larkin family name was tainted by my eldest brother because he stole a 20$ ink pen and my mother could never work in that town again.
that town had 4 churches and didn't even have a public high school. in that town you ate your broccoli at dinner or went hungry. and your mother could leave you unattended in a kiddie pool, or unattended by the trash pile that your brother was burning, or just a little too close to the road.
and when you died at 6 all 300 people in town came to your wake, at whatever church you went to, or whatever church your grandparents went to, or whatever church that would take you.
kurt and i sat outside, him smoking a cigarette, and i, weaving together pieces of grass.
"i had fun tonight," i spoke after a couple moments of comfortable silence.
"me too," he said.
"i was going to ask you to dinner but i don't think that would've been good for either of us," he added, laughing and taking another drag of his cigarette.
i feel safest surrounded by sweaty teenage boys. when a nerdy white guy flashes his crazy eyes while singing "I wanna take the president, chop off his head, and mail it to them in a garbage bag" i finally feel sane for once in my life.
i love punk shows, i could never see life without them. when i'm old and gray i'll be somebody's mom in the pit, thrashing around, losing her dentures.
the scene is stuck with me, i will never grow out of them. no matter how much they look over me to see kurt.
YOU ARE READING
Stomach Pains (KURT COBAIN)
Fanfictionyou wouldn't dream of meeting your match at the ears, throat and nose clinic, would you? when heidi meets kurt at a hospital and makes small talk, she finds they're being treated by the same gastroenterologist, they bond over their weak stomachs.
