Friday, May 20, 2005
stupid new years fiction - revisited
Originally posted on January 3, 2005
She didn't slam it but, for some reason, when Michelle closed her bedroom door it seemed to echoe throughout her apartment. You didn't like the sound.
You liked even less the sound of her yelping like an injured sea-lion while some guy named Chris screwed her so hard you thought she might get brain damage.
This was not the best New Years Eve ever, you thought to yourself as you lay on Michelle's couch. This was not how you pictured the evening ending. You were supposed to be taking care of her. You were supposed to be holding her hair back while she vomitted from being so drunk. You were supposed to wipe her mouth for her and help her put on her pajamas. And the next morning, through the haze of a terrible hangover, she was supposed to remember how you never groped her even once. She was supposed to fall in love with you.
Instead she's in there getting plowed by some moody dumbass who spent the night playing the only two Nirvana songs he knows on an out of tune guitar and pretending to be "mysterious."
You consider knocking on the door. Maybe when Michelle opens it you'll be crying. You'll make up some story about a sudden phone call and a dying grandmother. Maybe she'll leave that brooding jackass in her room and spend the night holding you while you pretend to sob.
On second thought, you've got to be at work early tomorrow. New Years Day is big at the Olive Garden. Just try to get some sleep.
very interesting
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She didn't slam it but, for some reason, when Michelle closed her bedroom door it seemed to echoe throughout her apartment. You didn't like the sound.
You liked even less the sound of her yelping like an injured sea-lion while some guy named Chris screwed her so hard you thought she might get brain damage.
This was not the best New Years Eve ever, you thought to yourself as you lay on Michelle's couch. This was not how you pictured the evening ending. You were supposed to be taking care of her. You were supposed to be holding her hair back while she vomitted from being so drunk. You were supposed to wipe her mouth for her and help her put on her pajamas. And the next morning, through the haze of a terrible hangover, she was supposed to remember how you never groped her even once. She was supposed to fall in love with you.
Instead she's in there getting plowed by some moody dumbass who spent the night playing the only two Nirvana songs he knows on an out of tune guitar and pretending to be "mysterious."
You consider knocking on the door. Maybe when Michelle opens it you'll be crying. You'll make up some story about a sudden phone call and a dying grandmother. Maybe she'll leave that brooding jackass in her room and spend the night holding you while you pretend to sob.
On second thought, you've got to be at work early tomorrow. New Years Day is big at the Olive Garden. Just try to get some sleep.
very interesting
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