I'm sitting on a chair that has been used so many times before the seat is permanently formed to the shape of a buttocks. but not mine.
I'm typing on a computer that was once owned by a man named Earl. early Bontsky. How do I know this? Because he left every single file on his computer when he sold it to us, for twenty bucks. I have emails from old girlfriends, and pictures from real worthwile vegas trips.
I'm eating off of a fork, found on a riverbed. Daddy say it, said it was in good reapair just needed a little bending back into shape, and viola, a brand new addition to our mismatched, beaten up, second hand, silverware collection.
I'm watching a tv, while fiddling with the bunny ears trying to get in a pleaseable connection. Moving is out of the question for me. Once I move the connection is lost and I must find a new position for those sticks of conducting metal that haunt me so.
Life's hard when your the daughter of a middle class pawn shop king.
Oh we have money, sure, we can afford to buy all of these things. But we dont. Nope, I use phones that are probabaly more questionable than old gas station pay phones.
I watch movies that are so beat up the VCR can barely get any movie out of it. I've never seen the full version of The Lion King, and I hope to some day.
My shoes were on sale, thats nice, too bad I have open toed sandals that used to be sneakers. You can't tell with all the duct tape covering it though.
Dad frequents the local pawn shop, and we're all paying for it.
Mom is wearing a second hand diamond in her wedding band.
Brother can only play his game boy at the right light, the screen is a little old
Fluffy has a collar that reads "Fido" we've never had a Fido, but the people who lived here before did.
sister is currently sporting festive eighties garb from good will, and loves it. She takes after dad
It's hard to be normal, when you live in a nice suburban neighboorhood, every house a different shade of brown. Every driveway filled with a nice minivan, except ours. Daddy insists on holding onto our old volkswagon van, bright green, rusty, smelly, and somehold holding onto life by the fuzz of its dented dashbaord.
It's hard when your the daughter of a middle class pawn shop king.