As I enter the elevator I see Daisy's scarf, the makeshift hijab she must have dropped.
I am in the elevator by myself. As the doors begin to slide show I hear a voice all too familiar.
It is telling me to hold teh damn door testicle breath.
It is Chester Baker.
Again he is holding a heap of something like thirty British porno magazines. He has a stack of Pornos. He claims he is purchasing three of each. The splonk. Wily. Razzle and Mayflower.
"I thought you already purchased enough to take back home for the Junior high market?"
“Dude man It’s crazy. These kids from group number
one, they’re too fucking embarrassed to make a purchase. I tell them each magazine
is Ten pounds when it is really close to five. I’m making a prophet yo.”
He says that is his third stepfather back home in
Colorado Springs who went into retail would be proud. He says that he's already made close to 50 pound profit. He says that kind of puts Eagle Scout Josh's gay ass skit into perspective,
Tits is catering to young kids. They are all paper
route winners. Perhaps some of them had
to give a speech. The most, like Eustace, just entered a contest for having a route
and were fortunate enough to have their name pulled from a random heap of
papers.
I push Eustace. I heave him across the opposite side of
the lift. It is the same elevator lift where yesterday at this time I gave
Harmony a teddy bear dressed as a British constable.
“What the fuck is wrong with you. The whole trip you
have been out of control now you are buying porn for 12 year olds?”
Eustace Smiles. He says that it pays well. He says that
it’s nothing they haven’t seen through the staticky fizz on late-night cable . Before I know it I am giving Tits an Open
Jewels gratis. Before I know it I am again pummeling him. I am telling him
where to go while informing him which bodily orifice he is to use to get there.
For a second I am pissed that I get reprimanded by the head-honcho of our trip while Jim prances around being beyond uncouth to Daisy while purchasing pornography all day.
The door to in what Britain is referred to as the lift shuffles close.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Tits stops he asks me what do I mean.
I shove him across the Lift.
I shove him across the Lift.
Jim is laughing. He tells me to calm down. He calls me
Hair.
I am thinking about Daisy. I am thinking about how it
would have been the Big Ten collective asses
“You have no clue. Dandelion is freaking mental. I
literally had to follow her down to damn near Hyde park and implore her not to
run away all because of your immaturity. I mean literally. She could have
gotten kidnapped or something. She’s like only in 8th grade. Lord
knows what could have happen to her.”
Blague is laughing. He says that if the little skank
might have put out with Spencer no one would have that problem.
“Plus I had the head lady Liz Madgan on my ass like a cyst and she looked
like she was ready to exile the both of us to the Discipline bus of the last
night of the trip. I literally had to lie my ass off and say something how Daisy left her suitcase
on the bus. I mean it was pathetic, man. All because you and Spencer. All
because you guys started verbally abusing her. I mean, have you even paused for
a moment and consider that she was awarded this trip to europe and instead of
making it a memorable trip you guys are tormenting her.
Blague stops. His skin is light and semi-beefy. His
eyebrows don’t appear to have any pigment.
“Hair man, You’re here brother. You finally on board.”
I ask Jim what the hell he is talking about
“You're finally on the Dandelion-Daisy train, man. You’re here. You’ve arrived. All aboard.
Choo-choo.”
Jim is smiling. He is wobbling up and down.
“You are finally on the Daisy train Hair. You are finally here man. You are on the Daisy train.”
“Fuck the Daisy Train.” I say, the second a bling erupts and I step off the elevator.
“Hair man. Hair man. Hair.”
“What?”
“Just one more thing.
Blague says what. I reach my leg back.”
“Open Jewels fuckhead.”
I punt the center of his body like I am kicking a
field goal just as time expires. I strike
his manhood with the laces of my tennis shoes in the manner in which I was instructed to kick a soccer ball
while growing up. I kick it perhaps harder than I have assertively made contact
with anything I have ever exerted the aggressive torque of my anatomy at before. I am kicking the reproductive denim turf of
his anatomy as if I am trying to get something back. As if I am trying to retrieve
that part of me that is no longer here.
I kick him as if I am trying to usurp his own
horny-as-shit manhood.
I kick him as if I am trying to get something back
that never existed in the first place.
I kick him as if I am yelling at God for creating Adam.
Glossed rectangular windows of British pornography
scatters everywhere like wedding rice at the Playboy mansion. Blague says Hair what the fucks. He then quirks out Shit! He then begins laughing
stating that he might want to have kids someday.
There is a group of girls waiting for the elevator as
it opens. They may have been in Rita’s group. They may have won the skit last
night.
Two of them place their hands over their lips in shock
as they witness Jim’s reading material splattered on the bottom of the elevator
like a carpet.
I turn back. I kick Tits again.
“Open Jewels fuckhead. Open Jewels.”
I pass three of the girls. Blague is on the ground. He
is still saying Harry-what-the-fuck man what the fuck.
I stop a random blonde with braces and a scrunchy and
side-ponytail. I am perhaps 80 % certain that they are in her group.
“Hey if you happen to see her, tell Rita I’m really
sorry. Tell her that I really wanted to hang with her only craziness ensued.”
She is nodding. Two of the girls have already moved
across the hall and are pressing buttons hoping to summon a different elevator.
She nods. She says that she will.
I have just knocked out Jim Baker.
I feel like a champion as I head into the direction of
out hall my chamber.
I saved Daisy. I have survived the streets of London. I am not being exiled.
I am going home.
No comments:
Post a Comment