Duck Duck Noose: The view from the maple trees is a lot nicer than I expected. Quiet too, like my own eardrums hurt from the silence. You ever get that feeling?
Golden Compass: I like silences. What class you just come from?
Duck Duck Noose: Disgusting, even the word sends a shiver down my spine, and I mean that in a bad way.
Duck Duck Noose: English, where my teacher openly wept at an idiotic question someone asked. What class did you come from?
Duck Duck Noose: Or if I can't repeat the same question back, I don't remember how this game works, sue me... Plans for college?
Golden Compass: Now I'm dying to know what the guy asked but don't want to waste my question.
Golden Compass: I want to be a mechanic, like my dad.
Golden Compass: How's it going with Mr. Doubtful?
Duck Duck Noose: Today is NOT the day.
Duck Duck Noose: Does this mean you'll be able to take a look at my car?
Golden Compass: Depends. What's wrong with it?
Duck Duck Noose: Nothing, it's just a piece of shit.
Golden Compass: Jesus Christ.
YOU ARE READING
YOUR ONE LAST LINE |✔️|
Short Story*Watty's Shorts Winner, 2020* While cleaning out empty lockers during detention, North Kingsley comes across a battered textbook filled with off-beat and personal messages written in awful handwriting. On a whim he writes them a message back. Days...
