Micheal Ryder swerved sharply to the left, almost missing the small driveway he was supposed to be turning into. He winced as his pickup truck made the rough transition between concrete and gravel. It was something he was going to have to get used to – he'd be driving down this path every day for who knew how long. A particularly large rock dislodged him from his seat, and he let out a foul explicative as his blond head bashed against the ceiling of the cab. Cursing his father, and the owners of the house he was renting, he slammed the truck to a stop. Not caring that he was still yards away from the house itself, he jammed the ancient truck into park.
“Sorry about that!” a woman called from up a head. “The driveway is on a list of things to do.”
“Wonderful,” Micheal muttered so the woman couldn't hear as he exited the cab. “That makes me feel loads better.”
The woman, Rosalind Score – a tall, willowy blond, blue eyed woman with large, fake breasts barely contained in a black, v-neck sweater – met him half-way down the driveway. Smiling brightly at him, she extended a perfectly manicured hand, which he took grudgingly. “Did you find the place alright?” she asked. Not waiting for an answer, she continued on. “Well, if you'd like, Micheal, I can help you unpack.”
Rosalind had not been so gracious when Micheal had come to look at the house. In fact, she'd been borderline rude, speaking in short, clipped sentences and not meeting his eye. She simply informed him, while glaring daggers over his left shoulder, that the house was still up for rent, one-hundred dollars a month. It was fully furnished, she would pay the water and gas, and he would cover the rest.
The house itself was not worth the money. It was small, barley containing the four rooms, and was a horrid burgundy color. The porch – although, it was honestly more of a platform made of cheap wood – was unpainted and tiny. The color scheme in the house did not match, nor were the colors anything short of disgusting, all ranging from lime green to royal purple. At one point,, it must have belonged to a senile old cat-lady, because the smell of kitty litter was still strong. But the location was nice, it was cheap, and he didn't have to buy furniture. So, he decided, it was tolerable.
Rosalind Score, however, was not. She traipsed to the back of his truck and pulled out the smallest suit case she could find. “Why don't you come for dinner?” she asked, feigning struggling under the baggage. “Were having a nice meatloaf, and I could introduce you to my daughter!”
'Ah,' Micheal thought, tugging a larger bag out of the bed and carrying it easily into the house. 'We've come to your sudden politeness already.'
He gritted his teeth and tried to smile politely. Judging by the somewhat alarmed look on her face, it didn't work as well as he'd hoped. “Dinner sounds lovely, Miss Score.”
“Sorry about that!” a woman called from up a head. “The driveway is on a list of things to do.”
“Wonderful,” Micheal muttered so the woman couldn't hear as he exited the cab. “That makes me feel loads better.”
The woman, Rosalind Score – a tall, willowy blond, blue eyed woman with large, fake breasts barely contained in a black, v-neck sweater – met him half-way down the driveway. Smiling brightly at him, she extended a perfectly manicured hand, which he took grudgingly. “Did you find the place alright?” she asked. Not waiting for an answer, she continued on. “Well, if you'd like, Micheal, I can help you unpack.”
Rosalind had not been so gracious when Micheal had come to look at the house. In fact, she'd been borderline rude, speaking in short, clipped sentences and not meeting his eye. She simply informed him, while glaring daggers over his left shoulder, that the house was still up for rent, one-hundred dollars a month. It was fully furnished, she would pay the water and gas, and he would cover the rest.
The house itself was not worth the money. It was small, barley containing the four rooms, and was a horrid burgundy color. The porch – although, it was honestly more of a platform made of cheap wood – was unpainted and tiny. The color scheme in the house did not match, nor were the colors anything short of disgusting, all ranging from lime green to royal purple. At one point,, it must have belonged to a senile old cat-lady, because the smell of kitty litter was still strong. But the location was nice, it was cheap, and he didn't have to buy furniture. So, he decided, it was tolerable.
Rosalind Score, however, was not. She traipsed to the back of his truck and pulled out the smallest suit case she could find. “Why don't you come for dinner?” she asked, feigning struggling under the baggage. “Were having a nice meatloaf, and I could introduce you to my daughter!”
'Ah,' Micheal thought, tugging a larger bag out of the bed and carrying it easily into the house. 'We've come to your sudden politeness already.'
He gritted his teeth and tried to smile politely. Judging by the somewhat alarmed look on her face, it didn't work as well as he'd hoped. “Dinner sounds lovely, Miss Score.”
It's Funny, I Use To Be Popular. At First Some People Loved Me And Others Hated Me. Now Everyone Hates Me. Even My Old Best Friends. You See, I Always Found A Flaw In Everyone And Used It To Hurt Them. Not Physicly Hurt. I Made Them Feel Horrible About Them Selves. I Was The Reason You Cried On The Way Home. The Reason You Fake Sicked. Of Course Karma Came And Hit Me Like A Ton Of Bricks. I Try Hard To Be Nice, But No One At School Pays Attention To Me. Except Teachers. I Even Tried Sitting With My Old Friends.
"Hey, Guys!" I Said
"What Are You Doing Here?" Said Lexi Illing
"I Just Wanted To Sit With You."
"Well, Their's No Room"
"Yeah, Right There." I Said Pointing To The Empty Chair At The End.
"Well," Said Victoria Khan Placing Her Books On The Seat. "Now It's Taken."
Everyone Laughed. Except Me Of Course. I Just Walked Away. Wishing, I Had Never Been So Cruel.
"Hey, Guys!" I Said
"What Are You Doing Here?" Said Lexi Illing
"I Just Wanted To Sit With You."
"Well, Their's No Room"
"Yeah, Right There." I Said Pointing To The Empty Chair At The End.
"Well," Said Victoria Khan Placing Her Books On The Seat. "Now It's Taken."
Everyone Laughed. Except Me Of Course. I Just Walked Away. Wishing, I Had Never Been So Cruel.