|Mo and Me, Py and I
Author: PeanutbutterWolf PM
Mo and Py have gone through physical abuse their whole life, so when they meet each other they become inseparable. But they know it won't last forever, and sure enough, Joe (Mo's Dad) goes on a killing rampage in a hospital and Frisca (Py's Mom) gets into a drunken fight. It doesn't help that Mo has broken nearly half her bones, and Py has gone, leaving police utterly confused.Rated: Fiction T - English - Friendship/Adventure - Chapters: 15 - Words: 21,813 - Reviews: 23 - Favs: 6 - Follows: 6 - Updated: 04-15-13 - Published: 11-29-12 - id: 3078637
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
AHHHHHHHHHHHH! I'm so sorry I haven't updated for what- 3 weeks? 2 weeks? I dunno, but it's really been bothering me. Same excuse as usual- school, writers block, etc. I've not really had any... inspiration to write this. Also, I'm really sorry if you wanted more than just this wimpy page of crap, but I really just needed to post this because it's really bugging me. I'll try harder to update, I really will!
"You can call me Mom." Was the first thing Ms. Billingsgate said to me. I just stared at her, repeating the word.
"Mom." It sounded foreign on my tongue. I didn't like it.
After saying that one syllable, I shook my head.
I can see the protest in her eyes, before she nods, then put's an arm over one of my shoulders.
"It'll be alright, you know." I just yank her arm off roughly, getting up from the bench in the park.
How would she know that? She's never met Mo before. She didn't see her lying down across the roots of the tree. All she wanted was to be famous- the foster parents of the young girl that suffered so much pain her whole life. What a hero she was to take little Py in.
As if. She would never, ever, be a hero, if that was the reason she took us in.
It was a week since I showed everyone the tree house, ever since my world collapsed. I had no intentions whatsoever to be nice, or kind, or gentle to anyone, especially not the bloody nit wit that chose to foster me.
When I watched them ooh and aah over the tree house, take notes on everything we owned, label them with sticky notes, all that, I just sat there in the bean bag and watched.
As soon as the police opened the door for me, I ran. Ran straight towards the tree house, and climbed as fast as I could up to the roof of it. The shiny black paint threatened to slide me off, but somehow I managed to hang on to the roof, watching Om, the raven, peck at his nest above me.
I could hear the frantic shouts as they started after me, jumping aimlessly at the bottom branch.
"How the HELL did she get up here?" A particularly loud voice yelled.
"Py? Py? Where are you?" Ms. Browns soft voice floated up to me. I knew that I have at least an hour before they manage to get someone up her, or at least realize that they need a ladder. An hour to think about what I should do. Do I run away? Do I come down? Do I just act like I've had a mental breakdown? What do I do?
Soon their voices faded off into the distance, and I begin to plan.
"Py, I know that you've gone through several traumatic events throughout the past week, but you need to think! What you did at the tree house was risky, and dangerous. You could have been killed! And what if..." I snap my head up at her.
"Shut. The. Fuck. Up." I grit out through my teeth, barely able to form the words. Taken aback by my sudden outburst, she blinks.
My plan failed. Miserably.
I had intended on climbing to the very top, where Mo and I had created a flat platform overlooking the whole town. It's particularly beautiful at night, when the lights around the forest outlines the town in a rainbow oval. I thank whichever person or group that spent all of that time decorating the outer forest. It makes the whole world look as if it's turned brighter, more colorful. Happier. And when the aurora borealis shows, combined with the man made light show, it truly is a sight to behold.
That part of the plan succeeded. It took them another hour to find the platform and get up to it. If it weren't for the people surrounding the
The words mean nothing to me. Sorry? Sorry? That's all she says?
"Ms. Billingsgate, I would really like to go see your home."
We were at the park where Mo and I met, supposedly 'getting to know each other.'
More like staring at the sky in an awkward silence.
20 minutes later I'm sitting in a bright colorful room filled with pink unicorns and purple flowers. Who does she think I am, a 2 year old?
"Do you like it?" Mrs. Billingsgate asks eagerly. No. No, I do not like one bit of it. May I please sleep outside? Unfortunately, I could not make my mouth spit out those words, and instead only 2, simple, ugly words flow out.
Mrs. Billingsgate beams with delight, then pat's my back.
"We've got some new clothes for you in the dresser, and if you need anything, just ask!" And with that, she's out.
I stand there, rooted to the spot, for several minutes, staring at the place she was last. Really? Really?
Sighing, I slump over to the closet. And am bombarded by the saddest collection of clothes one could ever see. Every single little bit of it is frilly and pink. There was not one plain tee shirt of pair of pants.
That night at dinner was a disaster. I tripped over a decorative gnome (yeah, I know. Gnomes in the house?) and fell flat into our dinner. I had to shower again, and wear the dreaded frills and laces that our dear Mrs. Billingsgate so generously offered. Mr. Billingsgate was a pompous spoiled brat (an odd description for a 40 year old, but then again...) t that couldn't stop repeating that he worked at a very important, secret post at the government and seemed to like barking orders at the house keepers. Then I made the mistake of pointing out that if it was secret he shouldn't be talking about it. I asked to help set the table or cook dinner, but they just looked shocked then started laughing about my "joke"
I farted at the table and made everyone stare pointedly at me, then sneezed snot all over a candle. Meanwhile, Mrs. Billingsgate couldn't stop chiding over how poorly I was treated and how happy I would be here. I believe that she has forgotten that she is only a foster parent until we find (or not find) a suitable relative. I hope that they can do this soon, because if I have to endure this for much longer I'll probably explode.
But to top it all off, I was limited to eat this odd looking vegetable that tasted like toothpaste. I tried to point out that I was vegetarian, but then my new "parents" forced some "protein" in my "weak, hungry, body" that was too shy to admit I "desperately wanted" that "delicious, tasty, meat." (note the sarcasm!)
It pleases me to know that I regurgitated it all up over my dress, that "delicious, tasty, meat" and the shiny white table cloth.
I don't think that they got the hint, however, because somehow they got the impression that I just couldn't hold all that food down, because my delicate immune system was used to starving itself.
So after all that, I think that they realized that I was having a particularly bad day, and let me go up to the room.
It had no comforts of home, no sleeping bag, no coziness, no swishing of leaves, no nothing. It was fancy, expensive, pretty, and... and empty.
Why is that? I think to myself. I'm supposed to be happy now. This is what I've always wanted, correct? So how come all I want is to be back at the tree house with... Mo. That's why it's empty. There's no Mo here to comfort me, tell me abnormal, messed up jokes, to complain, or yell, or challenge me to a game of tag.
I'm going to go into rant mode, and I don't give a shit if it offends you. If you really cared that much, you would REVIEW!
Well? Good? Bad? Awesome? Awful? Choppy? Smooth? What!? Come on people, I need to know! Review, PM me, I DON'T CARE, just DO IT! If you read this story, thought it sucks, then was too honest to lie and too nice to be rude, I hate you. It's wonderful that you're a kind, generous, caring person, but to be perfectly honest, I would rather you tell me this was the worst peice of junk you've ever read than not review at all! This has been up since sometime in September, and around 400 people have looked at 9 incredibly awesome, amazing people have bothered to review. 9 out of 400. about 1 out of every 45 people are nice enough to review. Come on peoples! I'll give you cookies! PLEASE! Write a SINGLE WORD and you will be on the best-people-in-the-world list. Reviews make longer chapters that have been more carefully edited and written! Reviews make Py and Mo laugh again! Reviews make The Billingsgate's crash into a giant bowl of pudding! Reviews make the pudding-incident VERY DETAILED! COME ON YOU PEOPLES, DON'T BE LAZY IDIOTS AND REVIEW!
I don't know if you got the point, but in case you didn't, I'll leave a littLe reminder.
r+r please. Thank you to whomever has been incredible enough to do this, as well as that plate of cookies! :)