Yay! Everyone celebrate.
Bean rushed into a gas station (They had a lot of those in L.A) A creepy looking woman with a ridiculous amount of make-up on shot her an ugly look. Bean glared back. She casually walked up to a small selection of hairbrushes. Why do they sell hairbrushes at gas stations? I don’t know. She picked one and darted towards the exit.
“HEY! YOU LITTLE SNOT- FACED #$%@#!!!!!’ the woman hollered. “Don’t you think you can go stealing my products!” she advanced threateningly towards Bean. Ban knew she would have to do some quick thinking. Very quick thinking.
She quickly ran the brush through her hair several times, and then looked up innocently.
“Oops! I’m afraid I forgot to pay for this!” she said sweetly.
“Well you better!”
“I’d like to, but I can’t afford it. I should put it back, even though I have a terribly infectious disease on my head. At random times it gets all flaky and all my hair falls out and my head gets full of blisters. If I scratch it, it starts bleeding profusely. It’s very gross and contagious.” She offered the hair brush back to the woman. “You can have it back though, if you want.”
“EW!” the woman turned a several shadows of green and stepped back a few feet. “Get that rotting carcass scalp of yours out of my gas station! AND DON’T COME BACK, YA MOOCHER!”
Bean darted back and finished brushing her hair right outside the gas station, until it had resumed its normal state of gorgeous goldenness. There. Now she could figure out what to do.
It was then that she realized her mom would come looking for her. And she would find her somehow. Bean shuddered, imagining what her mom would do when she found her daughter. No, best she RAN THE HECK AWAY! Started a new life, in a new state, with a new nickname. She didn’t know her real name anyways. Bean decided that her new name would be Pepper. Why? She didn’t know, but pepper sounded cool. Yes, that was her new name. Bag Bean.
Pepper now needed to get to Texas. She sat on a graffiti bench and thought. Suddenly a fat hobo who smelled strongly of whiskey came over to her. He was swaying and waddling.
“Hey pretty lady won’t you gimme a siiiggnnn” he sang, sitting down next to her.
“EW!” Pepper jumped up and ran down the street and sat down to a random old woman on another bench. The woman smelled like pennies, all metallic, and had a nearly bald cat sitting on her lap.
“MRRRREEEEEOOOOWWWWWWWW” As it yawned, Pepper noticed it only had one tooth, which was a dull shade of grey. Ew. L.A was weird.
“So,” the old woman said, smiling. Her teeth weren’t dull grey but bright yellow. Pepper counted them. She had exactly 4, one of which had a hole in it as if someone had shot it.
“… So.” Pepper said back.
“Where you headed?”
“What do you mean?” how did the woman know Pepper was going somewhere.
“Texas? Oh, how nice. Texas is a nice state. I like Texas.”
“Um, that’s very interesting.”
“Well, Pepper…” the old woman put her hand on Pepper’s shoulder. Pepper shied away. OMYGOSH! THE WOMAN’S HAND WAS GLUED TO PEPPER’S SHOULDER!
(to be continued maybe)
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Thursday, March 11, 2010
I GOTTED BORED 8D
Okay, uhm... I haven't updated the blog in CENTURIES because I cant figure up how to upload the stupid pictures on the camera, so I'll put this story instead. I was REALLY bored and just started putting epically random things. This is chapter one lol.
She sat in her darkened, cold office-prison, pencil suspended in the air above a piece of paper, thinking hard. The last beatings had sent her reeling, and she couldn’t think of something to write. But if her mother came in and saw her not writing, she would certainly be cruelly beaten to death. Her mind raced to find something to write, ANYTHING would be better than nothing… She chewed on the tip of the pencil, then accidentally swallowed the lead and choked on it. She gasped (or at least attempted to) as the poisonous metal grated against her throat, tearing it. Finally she managed to swallow it. Great, now she could be poisoned. And she didn’t have a pencil.
Suddenly, the door cricked open. The author whipped around with a gasp of horror. Her mother stood there, glaring darkly at her.
“BEAN!” she said. The author cringed at the name. It wasn’t her real one and she had been trying hard to forget it. Who even came up with that name anyways? It made NO SENSE!
“Hello, Mother.” Bean whimpered, smiling submissively. It was then that she guessed she had pencil lead all over her teeth.
“Have you been eating your pencils?” hissed her mother, getting right next to her face and whispering angrily like she tended to do. Not bothering to hear the answer, she slapped Bean so hard that she collapsed onto the ground.
“Get up, you ungrateful wretch and let me see what you’ve written!” Bean felt a sharp pain in her side as her mother kicked her. She dragged herself up, using the desk as a support, and shakily gave her mom the paper.
“YOU FOOL!” her mother hollered, shaking the whole house with her loudness. “You’ve written NOTHING! NOTHING AT ALL!”
“I-…”
“Don’t you sass at me, young lady!” her mother grabbed a random brick that was just sitting on the floor and winged it at her. Bean screamed and ducked, and the brick sailed over her head. It crashed into the window, shattering it.
Ignoring her mother’s bellows of rage, Bean jumped out without hesitation. LITTLE DID SHE REALIZE IT WAS 5 STORIES UP!!!! She fell and fell until she finally crashed onto the ground. SNAP! Oh, there went her leg. And 5 ribs. Oh, no, that was just the pile of roses she landed on. She flinched, trying to pull some of the thorns that had embedded themselves deep into her flesh.
Her mother was perched at the window. SUDDENLY SHE JUMPED OUT. Bean watched her mother falling. Of course, the woman landed perfectly on her feet and stood without a scratch. She opened her mouth and literally hissed at Bean, raising her hands claw-like. Bean gave a little squeak and darted to the side. Her mother gave chase.
Bean ran right into a crowded Los Angeles road (How did she get to Los Angeles anyways?) and dodged between the many cars of drugged hobos. Her mother does not have as awesomely quick reflexes. Bean watches in satisfaction as her mother is hit by a car. She clings to the hood, screeching, but is dragged away.
“Bye, Mom.” Bean says, and dashes into the sea of buildings. She trots around, utterly lost. Her mother would never let her out of their backyard, and even then she was on a leash. A LEASH!!!! Bean tripped over the curb and fell flat on her face randomly. She picked herself up bitterly.
“Hey you!” A young man (okay an emo kid; he doesn’t deserve to be called a young man) of about 16 came up to her. Bean scowled at him. He had those weird earrings that made your earlobes all big, a ridiculous hairdo, and skinny jeans. Her favorite.
“What do you want?” she snapped, having no patience for nancy emo kids.
“You dropped this.” The emo kid handed her a gleaming knife, about 6 inches long. It was covered in drops of what looks suspiciously like blood. Her mom wouldn’t have let her touch a butter knife, much less a 6-inch blade, so this certainly wasn’t hers.
“Oh my goodness!” she gasped, grabbing it. “I would be so upset if I lost it! Thank you!”
The emo kid smiled, and she smiled back, which was very hard considering she wanted to run screaming in the other direction. Emo boy also handed her a sash and belt for the knife. Then he put his hands in his hoody, assumed a tortured face, turned heel, and walked away.
Bean just stood there, gawking. What could she do with a knife, especially such an awesome one anyways? And where did that kid get ahold of such a weapon, and why did he give it to her? Oh well, she didn’t really care. At all. Because her hair was badly messed up.
She sat in her darkened, cold office-prison, pencil suspended in the air above a piece of paper, thinking hard. The last beatings had sent her reeling, and she couldn’t think of something to write. But if her mother came in and saw her not writing, she would certainly be cruelly beaten to death. Her mind raced to find something to write, ANYTHING would be better than nothing… She chewed on the tip of the pencil, then accidentally swallowed the lead and choked on it. She gasped (or at least attempted to) as the poisonous metal grated against her throat, tearing it. Finally she managed to swallow it. Great, now she could be poisoned. And she didn’t have a pencil.
Suddenly, the door cricked open. The author whipped around with a gasp of horror. Her mother stood there, glaring darkly at her.
“BEAN!” she said. The author cringed at the name. It wasn’t her real one and she had been trying hard to forget it. Who even came up with that name anyways? It made NO SENSE!
“Hello, Mother.” Bean whimpered, smiling submissively. It was then that she guessed she had pencil lead all over her teeth.
“Have you been eating your pencils?” hissed her mother, getting right next to her face and whispering angrily like she tended to do. Not bothering to hear the answer, she slapped Bean so hard that she collapsed onto the ground.
“Get up, you ungrateful wretch and let me see what you’ve written!” Bean felt a sharp pain in her side as her mother kicked her. She dragged herself up, using the desk as a support, and shakily gave her mom the paper.
“YOU FOOL!” her mother hollered, shaking the whole house with her loudness. “You’ve written NOTHING! NOTHING AT ALL!”
“I-…”
“Don’t you sass at me, young lady!” her mother grabbed a random brick that was just sitting on the floor and winged it at her. Bean screamed and ducked, and the brick sailed over her head. It crashed into the window, shattering it.
Ignoring her mother’s bellows of rage, Bean jumped out without hesitation. LITTLE DID SHE REALIZE IT WAS 5 STORIES UP!!!! She fell and fell until she finally crashed onto the ground. SNAP! Oh, there went her leg. And 5 ribs. Oh, no, that was just the pile of roses she landed on. She flinched, trying to pull some of the thorns that had embedded themselves deep into her flesh.
Her mother was perched at the window. SUDDENLY SHE JUMPED OUT. Bean watched her mother falling. Of course, the woman landed perfectly on her feet and stood without a scratch. She opened her mouth and literally hissed at Bean, raising her hands claw-like. Bean gave a little squeak and darted to the side. Her mother gave chase.
Bean ran right into a crowded Los Angeles road (How did she get to Los Angeles anyways?) and dodged between the many cars of drugged hobos. Her mother does not have as awesomely quick reflexes. Bean watches in satisfaction as her mother is hit by a car. She clings to the hood, screeching, but is dragged away.
“Bye, Mom.” Bean says, and dashes into the sea of buildings. She trots around, utterly lost. Her mother would never let her out of their backyard, and even then she was on a leash. A LEASH!!!! Bean tripped over the curb and fell flat on her face randomly. She picked herself up bitterly.
“Hey you!” A young man (okay an emo kid; he doesn’t deserve to be called a young man) of about 16 came up to her. Bean scowled at him. He had those weird earrings that made your earlobes all big, a ridiculous hairdo, and skinny jeans. Her favorite.
“What do you want?” she snapped, having no patience for nancy emo kids.
“You dropped this.” The emo kid handed her a gleaming knife, about 6 inches long. It was covered in drops of what looks suspiciously like blood. Her mom wouldn’t have let her touch a butter knife, much less a 6-inch blade, so this certainly wasn’t hers.
“Oh my goodness!” she gasped, grabbing it. “I would be so upset if I lost it! Thank you!”
The emo kid smiled, and she smiled back, which was very hard considering she wanted to run screaming in the other direction. Emo boy also handed her a sash and belt for the knife. Then he put his hands in his hoody, assumed a tortured face, turned heel, and walked away.
Bean just stood there, gawking. What could she do with a knife, especially such an awesome one anyways? And where did that kid get ahold of such a weapon, and why did he give it to her? Oh well, she didn’t really care. At all. Because her hair was badly messed up.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
