A/N: I...AM ALIVE. And writing again. Actually, I never stopped. But I was too busy for Fictionpress. Sorry. :
Please don't hate me. And enjoy my new story. THAT I AM ACTUALLY GOING TO UPDATE ON A WEEKLY BASIS. No, It's not the apocalypse, but thank you for asking.
Country Village and Watered Down Apple Sauce
Have you ever noticed that in a waiting room, everyone always sits so there's one chair in between them and the person next to them? I'm the number one follower of that rule. I don't know about you, but I'd really rather have a space between me and the old woman that's coughing up her lungs than share an armrest with senior citizen bacteria.
I hate waiting. There's nothing to do but, I suppose, wait. What's worse is what I have to actually wait for; Last week was for the plumber, yesterday was for the mailman, earlier today was for the bus- and now it's for getting a haircut that I don't even need. Do the people here even understand what a 2 o'clock appointment means? By my standards it means that I should now be sitting in that stupid, squishy, chair that rises up and down. At least it has a nice little foot rest that makes up for the ridiculous cape that's draped around my neck. Jeez, if they want to make me look like a super hero, they could at least put the damn thing on the right way.
Two forty five. It's been fucking forty five minutes since my intended appointment. The wait wouldn't be that bad if the only entertainment available wasn't just home decorating magazines from six years ago and honestly, I think I could take a breather from the creepy six year old staring at me. A sixteen year old shouldn't have to go through this horror. That's it- bathroom break. Maybe checking out the scented soap in the restroom could keep me amused for five or ten minutes. Placing January 2003's issue of Country Village on the chair next to me, I stood up and made my way to the little-pissed off-boy's room.
Once I reached my sanctuary, I realized that I actually had to empty my tank. And fast. Glancing around, I noticed a couple of urinals lined up on the wall. I'm not one for exposing myself in public, so I quickly selected a stall and locked myself in the small squared off area with a toilet. Unzipping my pants, I heard the public bathroom door squeak open. Great, there's nothing I like more than some stranger hearing me piss. Well, I couldn't hold it in anymore, so I let 'er rip.
After my bladder was drained, I swiftly fastened my pants and kicked open the stall door. The guy that had joined me in the laboratory was at the sink, washing his hands. Approaching the other sink, I palmed out some soap and rubbed my hands together. Mmm, smells like watered down apple sauce. Reaching to turn on the faucet, I noticed the gentleman staring at me. I gave him a puzzled expression, then flipped up the handle to turn the water on. My reflection caught my eye as I continued to wash my hands.
I'm scrawny. I'm short. I'm extremely pale. I have dark eyes and even darker make up around them. The Spider Man t-shirt that I'm wearing probably could fit my eight year old cousin better than me and my tight pants are companied by two belts. Well, then there's my hair. It just won't corporate today, but I like it even though it's long and in my face. It's somewhat fried from being dyed so many colors in its day, but it still is soft and style-able. It's black with blond splattered over random bits and honestly, I like it. I like my hair and I like my appearance. Too bad society doesn't. Everyone look out- the circus is in town. And his name is Parker.
Slamming down the faucet to turn off the water, I looked up to see the guy studying my appearance. Giving him a look that in its own way seemed to question, "What?" I walked over to the paper towel dispenser and cranked the handle. Nothing. That's just great. I side-glanced over to the guy who stole the last of the paper towel and tried to give him an angry glare. The bitch just laughed at me.
"You seem like an interesting guy," The stupid bastard said as he ripped off half of his paper towel and handed it to me. "Here."
"No thanks," I attempted to glare again and wiped my hands on my tight, black pants. I don't need charity from a stupid guy like him. Stomping over to the door, I swung it open and re-found my seat in the waiting room. Ahhh, salvation. One seat away from Granny McSickPants and one seat away from that weird-looking kindergartener. Now where did I put that intriguing magazine? I was just about to read about choosing wallpaper.
Hearing a shuffling noise, I looked up and saw that same guy from the bathroom looking down at me. The stupid bastard smiled and then sat down. Right. Next. To. Me. Did he not know about the rule? The unspoken rule of waiting room etiquette? What's this fucker's problem?
Flashing me a grin that could win an award, weirdo-creep-guy does the unthinkable. Steals the armrest from me. Now, that was it! I couldn't control my anger. Waiting in this dump has taken a toll on me. I marched up to the counter and gave my best glare to the lady behind it. "I'd like to reschedule my appointment."
"Well.." she started, snapping her bubblegum, "We're kinda busy until next Saturday."
"Oh, for fuck's sake. I'll just cut my own hair." I shrieked, annoyed and in a bad mood. I trudged out of the salon after giving that guy another glare.
Summer sucks. It's hot. It's humid. I don't wear shorts. Just getting home about 20 minutes ago from that stupid salon, I found myself in the kitchen. Someone had left the window open and the sweet smell of lilacs wafted in. Feeling hungry, I spotted some cereal on top of the fridge. Frosted Flakes or Lucky Charms? They're both equally sugary and bad for you and they're both equally tasty. So I'll have them both.
So now I'm in the living room with my colossal bowl of sugary goodness, ladling massive spoonfuls of my mixture into my mouth and attempting to watch TV. Mmmm, cavities. Flipping through channel after channel, I realize that there is absolutely NOTHING good to watch during summer afternoons. I settle on watching some show where an obese black woman is yelling at a skeletal white guy about him being her baby's daddy. I nearly choke on my cereal when the woman starts chasing him around the room while her fat is jigging. Right when it looks like she's about to clobber him, the doorbell rings.
"Comffiiiinggg," I shout with a mouthful of Lucky Charms' marshmallows. Twisting the handle and pulling the door open, I see the guy from the hair salon. Swallowing roughly, I immediately notice that he looks as surprised as I do. Suddenly, his face contorts from a smile to a smirk and before I know it, he grabs a fistful of my shirt and pulls me forward until our lips come in contact.
I guess this is how it feels to kiss a stranger.
A/N: Thank you for reading. Please, please, PLEASE review. It would mean a lot to me and give me the kick in the balls-that I don't have- to update faster.