Call Me Dirty Minded

23. Naughty Boys Always Have to Pay

Chapter 23

Naughty Boys Always Have to Pay

Semi - Charmed Life

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School. Highschool. The place to be through adolescence that entails education. 4-5 classes a day of a 75 minute lesson that comprimises with useless information that helps us with nothing in the future. Unless of course you want to be Albert Einstein, sadly, I don't want to meet that expectation. Sorry great grandfather, hope you're acing them math equations up there with other deceased intelligent men.

But seriously, what is school? They expect you to ace information of a billion words a class and remember them word for word. I swear my brain cells are minusing by the minute just to hear there's a surprise test. I guess in the future I can handle it if I had some talent, become a proffessional DJ? Or a choreographer? I'm a great dancer... sometimes. Or a rapper? I can rap superbass really good... but that's it. I mean... I don't even have a talent except the specialty of staring at delicious males and drooling. I seem to have the great aspect of raging hormones and curiosity, and let's not forget the endless thoughts of taking everything in to great priority of dirtiness.

I guess I can be a head of a brothel house.

Nah.

I can be the director for a porno.

Nah.

Proffesional Scientist on sexual sheet.

Nah.

Do they even get paid good money? And in no way will I become a stripper, I have diginity! Nah, I know what I'll become. A McDonalds manager, that's where people have failed in life tend to become. And I am a failure, sorry Great Grandfather. Plus you get free food.

"Alright let's not forget work experience guys! Preferrably you should try to contact where you want to have work involvement now rather than later. Best time to show out your talent! And who knows, maybe they'll even hire you?"

I mentally roll my eyes over the fact I have no talent and I'm screwed. My cheerful Career Advisor Ms Cherry is probably one of the best teacher's in this school, she understands you a sheet load. She's always there to listen and understand and help you get on your right path in life and always gives us a choice of candy just before we leave her office. And it was as if she read me because she walked up to my desk.

"Skye, are you okay?"

I give a snort noted in sarcasm, "of course, I've got so much going for me that I'm like Einstein. Pun, get it?" So dry.

Ms Cherry gave a small chuckle shaking her head, "Hilarious Skye, you don't necessarily need a talent to have your chosen place to work for the time being. It's just more of an easier option, do something you enjoy. Anything you enjoy?"

"Singing horribly, dancing wildly, eating cookies, and majority of misinterpreting everything to dirty. I really believe I can get a job I'll enjoy, by those amazeberries traits" sarcastic was my name for that lesson.

She looked down and opened my little booklet of different jobs in various categories. Skipping a couple of pages her fingers land on a dessert store, cookies was one of their main dishes. My eye petruded to the size of balls. I grinned mischievously as Ms Cherry grinned back knowing well that I was heaps excited. She then nodded and walked away like a boss. See why I love her?

I tap my pen looking through the sheets of where I'll be working for for a week, sheets for me to write down details and for the employer. So many sheets. I apologise to the many trees that were crucial victims.