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kuroororo · 4 years

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The Tales of KurooCat and a Broke College Student: III

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Art by vgmt_sue on twitter!

Long time waiting, but its here! All characters are 18+ ❤️

Part 1 Previously

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It didn’t take long for you and Kuroo to fall into some sort of routine together. If anything, you were surprised at how natural it felt in the process.

While you were at classes, Kuroo liked to explore the campus in cat form. For the past week, you’ve heard a couple rumors about the school having more feline guests, but you were pretty sure it was just Kuroo they were talking about. When you’d get out of classes, he would return to the dorm room to greet you and turn back into a human. Thankfully, he was more forgiving towards clothes now.

You guys would have dinner, maybe ramen, maybe a sandwich, and afterwards you’d finish up on some assignments while Kuroo flipped through your textbooks. He was especially fond of chemistry.

“Tell me again how you’re failing this class?” Kuroo called from the bed. He was laying on his stomach, nose deep in your Intro to Organic Chemistry book. “This stuff is interesting as hell! It’s like a guidebook to all of the worlds secrets!”

“That’s a bit of stretch, but okay.” You said as you continued to work at your desk, typing viligantly. You scanned through your notes then to your work again before slapping a palm to your forehead. “Agh!! Labs fucking suck!”

Kuroo snickered. “Then why’re you taking the class?”

“For the credit. You think I’d spend that much money on a class I freaking hate?”

You heard Kuroo get up from the bed and walk over to your desk. Before you knew it, he was leaning over your shoulder, his warm breath right next to your ear.

“You spelled docosahexaenoic acid wrong.”

“Shit, you’re right” Highlighting the awful word, you left clicked to see if there were any autocorrect options to choose from. There were not. “Damn it- Hey, how do you know how to read anyways?”

Kuroo scoffed, almost offended. “Cats like me learn how to read at a young age like any other kid. The only difference is instead of storybooks, we use street signs and old newspapers.”

“I see.” You said, finding the correct spelling in your notes. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. I was just curious.”

Something akin to a purr or a hum resonated from next to your ear. You felt Kuroo nudge your cheek with his almost affectionately. “I know, kitty.”

You felt blood rush to your cheeks as they heated up in a blush. You hoped Kuroo hadn’t felt that. But the way his purring got louder and his nuzzles more affectionate, you regret to acknowledge that he did.

You felt him nose your cheek. “You should take a break, (Y/n).”

“Can’t. Labs due at 11:59. It’s 10:43 right now.”

“Maybe you should have managed your time better.” He snickered.

“All of my time this week has been managed by your needy ass.” You deadpanned. “You ask for cuddles all the time! You even turn into a cat to trick me into giving in!”

“Well, what am I supposed to do? You only give me cuddles when I’m in cat form.” He whined. He curled his hands in under his chin like paws and flattened his ears against his unruly heir like a mock attempt in to emulate a sad cat. “You gave me all of your attention just fine when you thought I was just a cat.”

“That’s precisely it. I thought you were just a cat.”

“Hmm, yeah. But you still seem to give me attention even after you found out I was more than that.”

Your fingers froze from their vigorous dance across the keyboard. If your cheeks weren’t red then, they sure as hell were now. And OF COURSE Kuroo noticed it too.

“Aw, my kitty likes me after all~”

“Shut your face!” You grit your teeth and fought the blush down. Slipping a hand between his face and yours, you pushed him away without sparing him a glance. “The only kitty here is you.”

“Hmm, you’re right.” You heard a poof and the sound of clothes dropping behind you. Before you knew it, a black tabby hopped up onto your desk and laid himself across your keyboard on his back. The last sentence you typed up comprised of “Thus the reaction 2wsdetghjueghhkljjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj”

“Kuroo, get off!” You nudged him. He didn’t move. “You’re ruining my report!”

“Only if you take a five minute break to cuddle.” He said. Oh, yeah. You forgot he could talk in cat form too. “You’ve been working non-stop since you got out of class, you have to be burnt out by now.”

This was true. You’ve been working none-stop on anatomy, ethics, and sociology— with your chemistry lab as the cherry on top. Maybe a short break is what you need to regain a smidge of your maximum effort to finish up your work.

“Fine. Five minutes. But you need to get off my keyboard.” Kuroo complied, an almost smug look on his cat face, as you moved your keyboard out of the way. When he laid back down, you smushed your face into his soft black fur.

“You’re a bad influence, you know that.” You grumbled, your voice muffled by the fur. “Maybe I should kick you out after all.”

“You wouldn’t. You would have done so already if you really wanted to.”

“Yeah....But shut up.”

The soft vibrations of Kuroo’s purrs massaged your face, lulling your heavy eyelids close.

Without any warning, you left the room of your dorm into your dream-state world, leaving your unfinished lab report behind.

~~~

You woke up the next day in your bed. With Kuroo in human form wrapped around you.

Needless to say you screamed. (Albeit quieter this time so you didn’t wake Yukie up again)

“Kuroo, what the hell!” Grabbing your pillow, you smacked your cat’s handsome, sleepy face. He groaned but didn’t budge, only pulling you in tighter.

“Mm, not so loud. It’s only morning, kitty.”

“I KNOW its morning— and I had a lab due LAST NIGHT.” You growled, smacking him again. This time his ear twitched and he snatched your pillow away, tossing it wherever.

“It’s fine, I finished it for you.”

“You whaT-“

Kuroo finished your lab for you? “Mhm, even turned it in. I know more about using a computer than you think, kitty.” Even with his eyes closed, he smirked at you. His right eyelid raised a tad, a smug look on his face. “You really are bad at chemistry.”

“Wha-“

“Had to fix all your mistakes and everything. Did you even read the book?”

“Of course I did! How- How do you know more than me when it comes to these kinds of things.”

Kuroo breathed in deeply through his nose before propping himself on his elbow, an arm still around your waist. He smirked down at you.

“It’s a mystery~”

You grabbed the edge of your duvet and used it to shove his face away. “A mystery only because you won’t tell me.”

“True.” He said through he fabric of your duvet. “Besides, its not that interesting of a story anyways.”

“But I still wanna know.”

“Maybe one day. But not today.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Why not today?”

Kuroo gently pulled the thick blanket from his face, grinning widely.

“Today’s finally saturday again. We could actually do stuff without your studies getting in the way.”

You blinked up at him. It was Saturday already? Man, time went by fast. It feels like it was just last week you found Kuroo in the alleyway, limping out of the trash cans. Oh wait, it was.

Sitting up in the bed, you asked him, “How’s your arm feeling?”

“Terrible. Broken. Shattered. I can’t even feel it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Really.”

“I mean, do we really want the answer to that? I thought you said I’d have to leave when I got better.”

A phantom whisper of sadness curled around your heart like a cold mist. But you quickly pushed that feeling away. “I said we’d think about what we’d do, not that you’d have to leave.”

“Hmm. Sounds like an excuse to keep me here longer.”

“Alright, get out then—“

Kuroo lunged his whole body at you, his arms locking around your waist before hurriedly rubbing his ears into your stomach.

“Nooooo. I’m just playing— I don’t want to leave yet!”

You couldn’t fight the scoff that escaped your throat, nor could you stop your face from contorting into a dorky, triumphant grin. As Kuroo continued to whine into your waist, you lifted a hand up to run your fingers through his pointed ears.

“Cat? More like brat.” You chuckled with a lopsided grin. Kuroo looked up at you, returning your smile.

“I’m only a brat because you like spoiling me.” He crooned. Your smile fell from your face.

“Just kidding. Your more like a rat instead.”

~~~

“The beach?”

You and Kuroo had run to the local convience store to grab some riceballs for breakfast. Now, you both were sitting on a park bench enjoying your meal together. Kuroo’s riceball had mackerel in it.

“Yeah, we should totally go to the beach today! It’s not too hot out, so we won’t be sweating like hell— Come on, it’ll be fun.”

You gave your companion a wary grin.

“It sure sounds like fun...But, I don’t have a swimsuit.”

His head snapped towards you, gold eyes wide. “You don’t?”

“Nope.” You said, popping the p at the end. “Never needed one, really.”

“Wait, so does that mean you’ve never gone to the beach?”

“What— No, silly. I’ve just outgrown my old ones and never had a reason to get something new. Seems like a waste, when you have no one to go with.”

Kuroo looked up in thought.

“...I mean, you could always go commando—“

“KUROO!” He yelped when you swatted at his arm.

“What? Or we could go swimsuit shopping right now? I wouldn’t mind you modeling for me.”

“Alright, going to the beach is definitely off the list now.”

You could feel Kuroo pouting at you but you just forced yourself to ignore it. Instead, you looked through your phone for ideas on what you guys could do today.

Glancing up at him, you couldn’t help but laugh at the look of utter disappointment on his face.

“Maybe next time. Did you forget I’d have to get a swimsuit for you too.”

“I could always just swim in cat form.”

“Yeah, but everyone will think I’m crazy if they see me talking to a cat.”

“It’ll just make things more interesting, don’t you think?”

Maybe. Or maybe everyone will just ignore you, brushing you off for a beach coocoo and leave you alone. You haven’t been to the beach enough to really know.

“Say, Kuroo.” You started. Said cat looked back at you whilst taking a bite from his riceball. “Do you go to the beach a lot?”

Kuroo gulped down his meal. “No. But I still like to go when I can.”

“What was your first time at the beach like?” Were you a cat? Were you human? Who did you go with? All questions you wanted to ask, but you didn’t want to bombard him like the paparazzi.

He thought about it for a minute.

“I think I was with my dad? Or maybe it was with Nekomata. Either way, I remember being in cat form, chasing seagulls away.”

Nekomata? Before you could even ask, Kuroo continued.

“Yeah, I remember digging myself a little sand tunnel and hiding in there so I didn’t have to leave. Needless to say, they found me and shoved me under the beach shower since I had sand in my fur.”

You couldn’t help but imagine Kuroo as a small little kit, meowing in protest as he was held by the scruff and being scrubbed of debris. The thought made you giggle, making Kuroo glance down at you.

“Hmm? What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing. Just imagining you as a smol lil’ itty-bitty-kitty.” You snickered. “If you’re this much of a brat now, you had to be a monster when you were a kid.”

“Really? Actually, I was pretty quiet as a kit. Apparently I didn’t start talking til I got older.”

Kuroo? Not talking? You didn’t believe it.

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “You sure you’re not pulling my leg?”

“I swear!” Kuroo put his hands up in defense. “I couldn’t talk at all! I was too shy back then. I didn’t start talking until....”

Maybe that partly made sense. Being someone like Kuroo wasn’t easy, especially as a child. You could only imagine what would have made him so quiet and scared back then.

Kuroo jolted in his seat, startling you. “Hey, I know what we could do today.”

Taking another chomp of your riceball, finishing it completely, you nodded for him to continue.

When he turned to you, his golden eyes were lit with a fire you’ve never see before, passionate flames that could almost rival the sun. And then he smiled.

“Why don’t we play volleyball?”

~~~

“Just what do you think he’s doing?!”

“Who knows. Who cares.”

“Whaaaa? I thought you’d be way more concerned than this considering he’s your best friend!”

“Miss Kiyoko already said he was fine. Sure, he didn’t come to practice, but clearly he’s okay now. No need to worry about it anymore.“

“I know, but— Aren’t you even a little curious about the girl he’s been playing hooky with?”

“Bokuto-san, maybe we should just leave him alone for now—“

“And she’s cute too! Man, this is so unfair!”

“So what are you gonna do about it?”

The horned owl swooped down into the bushes, a large puff of smoke detonating upon impact. As the smoke cleared and parted, broad wings unveiled a very naked man with golden eyes and grey hair in a shape that looked like an owl.

“I’m just gonna have to introduce myself, of course!”

Another owl, one that had yet to transform, sighed. Beside him on the branch was a small tabby with a little pudding head.

“Bokuto...Transform back. Let’s get some clothes first or we might get arrested.”

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Trash. Didn’t proofread. My original chapter got deleted sksksk—

On another note, please continue to comment! It really helps a lot with motivation and confidence. Thanks a bunch to those who did comment ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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TAGS: @irenevyas @abby-rutledge20 @something-that-idk @svtbitch @ari-hatake15

Couldn’t tag in bold!

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #kuroo x reader #hq x reader #hq x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader #tetsurou kuroo x reader

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k00kie-krumbl3 · 5 years

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“What are you doing here?” I heard Taehyung ask, walking over I saw a boy with wavy gray hair that was parted in a fringe, a little mole underneath his left eye, and electrifying blue eyes that I couldn’t help but find beautiful.

“Hello Taehyung, nice to see you again,” he smiled, looking down at me.

“Hello, my your friend is a sight for sore eyes, isn’t she?” The male commented, Taehyung soon putting an arm against my stomach and pushing me until I was behind him. Still peeking over at the handsome male, I heard Taehyung snarl at the boy.

“What are you doing here Yugyeom? I won’t ask you again.”

“Ah~ I just wanted to see an old friend,” he smiled,

“We aren’t.” Tae corrected, eyes narrowing down on him.

“Well I will leave you alone as soon as you relay this message to Jinyoung, please?” He asked,

“Okay what is it?” Taehyung asked only for Yugyeom to tsk at the frigid boy.

“I actually want your beautiful friend to relay the message for me, what’s your name by the way?” He asked, ginger almost grazing my neck only for Taehyung to quickly snatch his hand.

“Back the fuck up,” he growled, eyebrow quirking up.

“Oh Taehyungie~ I just wanted to play~” he smiled, “anyways, I was wondering if you can tell my dear friend Jinyoung that Jaebum needs him as soon as possible so once you’re done with him. Please do kick him out, preferably with a boot.” He snickered, only to yelp as Jinyoung was standing right behind him and kicked him.

“What do you want?” Jinyoung asked,

“Jaebumie hyung asked for you, once your done, just come over to the house we have things to... discuss,” he smirked, glancing over at Tae.

Looking down at his watch, Yugyeom looked back up at Taehyung and I. “I must take my leave now, it was nice seeing you again Taehyung,” he said playfully, looking over at me, the playful glint was gone, “and I hope to see you more often miss.”

“It’s (y/n)!” I told him, heart beat rising the more I stood there.

“The chicken is most likely burnt by now,” Taehyung grumbled, making me gasp as I ran to the kitchen to check on the chicken only to realize that Taehyung was indeed right. Hearing the door close, I looked over to see Jinyoung and Taehyung were talking, or more like whispering.

"What are you two whispering about?" I asked, only for Taehyung to give Jinyoung a glare.

“Don’t worry about it. Just be careful and when you’re done, leave,” Taehyung hissed, picking his stuff up and heading over to the guest bedroom until Hoseok showed up.

—————

{Tae’s POV}

Hearing (y/n)’s giggles from the living room, I felt anger boil up in my blood, not realizing that my pencil was close to breaking until I heard a snap.

Looking over at it, I knew this wasn’t good, heading out of the guest bedroom. I heard her gasp in shock at Jinyoung explaining how Yugyeom and Jinyoung’s friendship is like Tom and Jerry.

“No way! Wow you really are like Tom and Jerry,” she giggled. “I wouldn’t have expected that from you to be honest. Well that is before I saw you kick him at the door this afternoon.”

“Ah yes~” he smiled, soon looking back and holding my stare.

“Oh Taehyung~ Nice If you to join us,” he mused.

“Are you guys even done yet? All I’ve been hearing is just you two giggling like school girls,” I quipped, seeing (y/n) look down, at first I thought that it was from sadness as I felt a pang if guilt until she stood up and walked over to me, pulling my ear as she dragged me to the kitchen.

“Okay seriously, what is your problem?” (Y/n) asked, anger in her eyes.

“My problem is that I don’t trust him and you are all over him. Aren’t you guys supposed to be getting your so called project done?” I asked.

Only for her to chuckle humorlessly, “wow. Wow. I can’t believe your jealous. So what? I can’t make guy friends? What are you my father? Sorry daddy, didn’t know I had to Al’s for your permission,” She retorted, rolling her eyes.

“If you keep acting like this, I will act like your dad. Don’t make me spank you,” I growled,

“As if,” she quipped back, not believing me for a second until a loud slap was heard, a gasp broke out of her lips as she stared up at me in disbelief.

———

{Y/N’s POV}

D-Did he seriously just slap my butt, I thought. Looking at him, I couldn’t help the shocked gasp that let out. Don’t get me wrong he sometimes will come behind me and slap my butt but it’s more a light tap in a friendly context. However, he has never actually slapped my ass to the point of it stinging.

His usual brown eyes, were even darker as he whispered hotly in my ear, “You asked for that?” Only to be pulled away, expecting to see Jinyoung there it was actually Hoseok. His red hair a crazy mess as he glared at Tae.

“How many times do I gotta tell you? Five feet apart!” He growled out, glaring at Taehyung.

“Well I’m just-“

“I don’t wanna hear it, Tae. Next time I see you break my rule, you’re out,” he hissed. Coming over to hug me.

“How my wonderful girl doing?” He asked,

“Just fine,” i humphed, walking away as I went back to the living room. Apologizing to Jinyoung for taking so long and going back to our project.

Glancing over at Tae, his eyes were still a dark chocolatey brown. Making me shiver, looking away, Jinyoung and I soon finished up our project.

~~~~~~

When Jinyoung finally left, I let out a yawn, exhausted beyond belief.

“Go to sleep, (y/n). I’ll clean up the rest, I have to talk to Tae anyways, so I’ll be up a bit more.” Hobi replied, massaging my tense shoulders making me slump down next to him.

“Thanks Hobi. What will I ever do without my hope?” I asked, closing my eyes as he chuckled, feeing the vibrations of his chest.

“I don’t know. Probably end up dead,” he chuckled, giving him a playful stink eye as I headed upstairs to take a shower and go to sleep.

—————

{Tae’s POV}

Watching as Hoseok said good night to (y/n), he walked over to me as I sat down on the couch.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him,

“I know you’re a vampire,” he said.

Staring at him, I let out a forced laugh. “A vampire?! Oh wow. What are you smoking? I’m not a vampire,” I told him, only to see he wasn’t buying the acting.

“You are, because I’m one as well,” he replied.

“Y-you are?” I asked him, wondering why I never knew. Vampires had a distinct scent so you are able to detect who is a vampire so it’s odd how I never figured that out.

“The only reason why you never knew is because I am a vampire hunter. I masked my scent from vampires like you,” he replied, soon unsheathing a sharp knife, as he lunged at me.

Quickly, jumping up, I looked at him in shock. “Are you dumb?! Why would you try and kill me? Especially when (y/n)’s asleep?!” I said in disbelief.

“Oh not to worry. The tea I made her will last long enough. She’s out like a light. Nothing can wake her,” Hoseok replied,

“You drugged her?! I thought you guys were friends!” I retorted, trying to find a way to escape.

“Oh don’t get me wrong. We are. It’s just you who’s the problem. Besides, it’s your species to blame for making me this way. And Jinyoung helped Yoongi and I know who to kill. You. My oh my. You’ve been gone a long time. Our lost prince. Were you ever going to tell anyone? How about (y/n)? Hmm? Or were you using her until her guard fell down so you can feed?” Hobi asked, slowly creeping closer towards Taehyung. Pouncing on Taehyung, Tae ran towards the front door, only to feel a overwhelming pain on his back, as Hoseok sliced his back, his black leather jacket and shirt now torn cut down the middle, red liquid trickling down his back, but it wasn’t the cut that hurt, it was the sizzling pain.

Screaming out in agony, I looked over at Hoseok, watching him clean up the blood on his knife. “Why are you doing this? You- you’re one of us. Why kill your kind?” I asked him, whimpering as I tried to escape, even if it was a weak attempt.

“Why? Because I wasn’t a vampire. I was human. I wasn’t a monster. Do you know what you did to me? What happened to my lover? When I was turned, I was beyond hungry, I killed my own wife, Taehyung. Me. I was a killer and I killed her. She was pregnant too. We were supposed to have a baby girl but now they’re both gone.” He admitted, red hot tears streaming down his face as he quickly swung his knife towards me only for it to stop, Namjoon grabbing the knife before it can reach my face.

“Really kid? How many times do I have to tell you to stop getting into trouble?” He tsked. Wooyoung soon appearing behind Hoseok as he restrained him, Hongjoong by his side as he put Hoseok to sleep.

“We’ll take care of him,” Wooyoung replied, teleporting back to wherever they came from.

Namjoon soon lifted me up, helping me stand as he brought me to the kitchen. Looking at my back he let out a hiss of distaste.

“Agh. Holy water. No wonder it’s taking longer to heal,” Namjoon tsked, whipping out his phone he sent a quick text to Jin letting him know when he returns with Tae, he needs to patch him up.

“I can’t exactly fix this as we don’t have the supplies required, but I can at least clean up the wound with water until it stops bleeding.” He answered.

“H-How old was he? Hoseok, I mean.” I asked Namjoon,

“I don’t know. However, Yeosang will. We will have to wait though. Aish, it’s as if the older you get, the more endangered you are.” Namjoon sighed.

“I promised your mother to protect you. Yet, if I look away for one second, you’re already hurt.”

Looking away, I bit my lip from asking a question that he refuses to answer. Missing the way Namjoon sighed, he lifted my chin up.

“Ask.”

“Is the Queen dead? Why can’t I meet her if she isn’t? I just want to say hi. At least.” I pouted, tears welling up as I stared at Namjoon expecting him to tell me not to worry about it or something along those lines.

“That’s actually why we showed up. Wooyoung, Hongjoong and I. We were going to let you meet your mother as she is in a much secluded and safe place.” Namjoon replied.

“Really? So I can meet her today?” I asked, only for Namjoon to shake his head no.

“That was before you got hurt. It’s too dangerous for you to go now especially when you are more vulnerable. Holy water and vampires don’t mix well and it’ll take a lot more than just a cut with holy water to kill a vampire but it will most define you take its toll on healing for us.” He answered, ruffling up my hair.

“Sorry kid. I wish we could but it’s to make sure nothing bad happens to you. You are very important other than your mother, we need to keep you safe. Has any other vampires talked to you?” Namjoon asked.

“Well not to me exactly. More like to my firmed (y/n).” I answered.

“Wait (y/n)? As in (y/n) (l/n)?” Namjoon asked,

“Yeah! How did you know?” I asked him,

“The (l/n) family are very well known in the vampire world as they are the most fearsome vampire hunters. They will stop at nothing to track and kill any vampires so if I were you I would stay away from her. Unless you want to end up dead,” Namjoon warned.

“But I’ve been friends with her for a really long time and she hasn’t said anything so obviously I’m good at keeping my identity on the down low,” I reasoned.

“You may be able to when you’re in a good mood but definitely not when you’re in a bad one. What? What’s with the guilty face? You didn’t seriously think you would get away with the fact you almost exposed yourself in front of not one but three vampire hunters, did you? Thank goodness Jimin was able to calm you down.” Namjoon chuckled.

“Come on Tae. We need to heal those wounds and you need enough rest. Tomorrow is a big day ahead of you.”

“How so?” I asked.

“You may not be able to see your mother today, but you will tomorrow.” Namjoon answered, a smile adorned on his face.

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castlehead · 3 years

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: LITTLE MILE,

PART ONE : : [live for the weekend and buy grams of blow with your paycheck.

see section A. feel good about going for walks. work thru a long distance relationship and get through the suicidal shit okay. then

break promises but also keep a few, not to keep up appearances but you wish rather to keep the purity of your word, which is hard fucking work. wait till she comes for a visit after super long time

apart and spread some roses on the bed because she likes that sort of thing. leave oreos on the pillow as oreos are delicious. ride her later in the night about that time you smoked six cigarettes in five

minutes as she was blowing xanax to prove a point. go to sleep crying but remember a few special moments as well and base your memories around that. see GOD for awhile but then decide it was

bullshit and perhaps just your conscience given a literal voice. see section A. hear nobody text you for days and understand some weird nonsensical ehrebung at really enjoying a smoke for the first

time in the morning as you look out the window. it is brisk and sunny and the bricks of the buildings look beautiful. think what a day what a day etc. then actually try to accomplish something with friends in

PARK SLOPE. understand finally that the general agreement is you whack as shit. then find a letter from your girlfriend from awhile ago and feel uplifted all over again for some reason but as for positivity

you do not discriminate. drink horn of sun to fierce last dregs. think about whether you are actually thin or just think you get thinner when you are really just used to how fat you are. talk to your girlfriend at

a certain point mentioned in section A. while on break for way too long.

sweat out a cluttered subway ride every morning forever. decide to jump off the BROOKLYN BRIDGE then decide not to. look meaningfully at a

church because you are reading twilight of the idols. repeat a lot of different stuff at irregular intervals. repeat stuff at regular intervals. learn that those statements are an acceptable example of an irregular repetition: or is

irregular as regards time only, not difference: an irregular life has less to do with fiber than we think. an irregular life can be as varied as disposition to pate : : as feeling to brokenness, as alteration altered to fear of change

might comfort one back into the nest of ignorance : it doesn't have to mean as regards, well, anything : it itself can be fiber, a fibrous fiber: so: we scrounge for something burred underneath the soft netting: crack up: put way too much

weight in your presence at social events : leave social events early or go to sleep in front of everybody pretending to be passed out : see social events as a total stressor : don't kno what to do : never know what to do ever: social

events. assume yourself a negative, discomfited person thereby. lose all friends because you dig deep into stupidity to find a reason for it, think about it until you go blind, rectify and rectify till all's a mess: is that what you want: yes:

friends are lost based upon too many simpering blasted apologies. really wish that you will leave a good looking corpse and do leave a good looking corpse. wonder why you don’t think about childhood very often, as in the concept.

see section A. come to the conclusion that fuck yes it is too late to have a happy one but really come to understand that that doesn’t matter as all things are for a time anyway but then get pissed off about this because you then realize as well

that you are mere mortal and still fields of open grass and oak away from describing something beautiful or whatever but then also wonder that you are infinite wherein the moment is concerned: and then think about your ex

for some crazy reason because all that matters is the past as regards what you’d want to retain in some eternal rolodex of spite or some shit, or maybe it’s just you but you can’t reimburse your mom because of all the infinite

you’re feeling and tell her you can’t and she says that is okay but doesn’t mention that it is ok because the advent of your twenties was mainly depressing, and you there, in room, gnawing at psyche like some useless ape as usual say, WELL

OUT WITH IT, and there she goes finagling a fart out of her ass your mom we are speaking of your mom and her aggravation and her remnant pain from a lost job years ago because oh certainly to fail once is to fail forever

and then you as you are young realize the moment is forever and you can make it a failure and you can make it a wonderful revealing of some big thickened BLEAR asking for property, asking for sense to be given it but you

can’t you can’t justify the dread nay [beckett] nor the odd ghosts in your bathroom that time you spoke to yourself for days and and and so then so then the weekend promises at least an end to this damned ineradicable

gloom and empty state as in empty and taxing but no state of emptiness no state of gloom yet here is gloom here is the reflections of a man refusing too long to look in the damn mirror and see himself is it you or is it i or is it all

the damn farts from the woman who birthed you wanting to be the final whiffing sound as to all of your gutsy failures and drudges through fields of stone and grass and oak you paint out of a backpack and some green

carpet in your room that one time you tripped balls on a tuesday on mushrooms and the razor talked to you and proved by its unassuming nature a very grill to the face that damned long face of a son too burnt

into his own damned house and wired by the damned eternity that sounds like some resilient, grand tocsin, some priketh ye some don’t but ya know it’s all just plain forgotten and happy at that, I’d live in codes wordless

more than explain this meaninglessness and/or stain on the life of time, that is humanity: that is growth: that is the paradigm of something written, written, scratched along the judgments of your mom’s farting fucking

asshole, your grown ass self, so proud to put on pants, so good at that one joke made riskily at a party and relished ever afterwards, so good at failure, happy failure, happy, happy to enter that small crack in the sadness too, happy

to bloom out of dismissal, shunning, happy to mature past the point of needing a single reason for a fart, an end, or a waste of mind. turn 30.

repeat. [etc] see section A.] ?? . . . .

RAGE on rage on, collapse into morning day like something of a storm, at least Frightful mist, some thunder bloom / glass incipient of the troubling harrowing: Some awful precondition. Out its frightful bells: wetly dew paints grass lucent-

-And I rise away from all that in my small cave in my state an eye half open, My knuckles are red from cracking them on my own jaw very a lot that night And some banging head i.e. sleep deprivation considered itself and made it

Worse. I thwarted myself continually mind whanging useless and thickly, like Sometimes i feel like that hamster I had when I was in middle school, wasn't, That i never named - - - uh, worth, it, wasn't worth it . S'ok it's ok for things

To no be worth it. Don't cry well then here's a fucking cookie Tard. I literally Just spat up phlegm right on my computer / no joke / I am freakish, & loud Also re hamster-mortality: I kno it is tragic, my girlfriend lost HAMSTERR

Named peanut. An entire quadrant of space specking thru eyes of that thing All day . Dont think ive evr done this much speed in one night (lol) i dont think i should be able to backtalk : this quick speed = religious,

[chalk dust molars fanatical facial people crunch 'em with 'em to dust. be sure to drudge up spume in the foggy brume some master floater or for sake of interracial justice an inanimate image of justice untarnished by opinion

or blaspheme. vulgar just for sake of cashing in on the weird honey : dip in there : of big politics etc anticipatory raging, prolepsis, summoner say : ARiSE ! ! !! : my girlfriend: she is sleeping right next to the and oh like a lamb she is, right

next to the voodoo-man, shepherd, making us all fly thru the honey right into some strict objective eye, truly naked vision, making commune with image and self. - - ] She goes on dozing into me and snoring soft like a, like subtle universal truth, or

Somethin. My snot is stuck in the bakc of my skull, i feel, i feel like waking up my Girlfriend with my hands all over like tidal waves : : i know hamstermortality, to let The reader kno : it is the wave of arcanum 17 : it is, it is waft of hope, like random

Prescience. Iit is the great like space etc of all, or some completely lazy encompassing. Kewl things only exist cuz hm i guess they exist for — — time, like hamsterts, Hamsters = meaning of universe, it’s like classical semantics or fuzzy logic:

Supervaluationists predicting borderline cases!!! How many hairs must i lose before You can call me bald : for the hairs will exist alway / they will, they will scream out : They will be a thing that is they are the very fuxxx god calls logic

Slash these words apart, greet blame and slash that, grab the bags: Run from the rage then, drum up some possibility for fuel, beat legs For leagues. ‘Message’ after ye with a bat, won’t get a thing so. But

Kicked up dust he’ll cough on, sweat drooling, finally fatigued: marigolds Fooling in the wind around him, agh, long day: we run into the ‘Pome’ Later: find it sucking on a sugar lump in some coffeeshop, well, money:

Who knew, who but the pivot finally: as drain groans a fable like a job to Do. Shit twists with flood and the seagulls berating lend belief at it all with Solid statement, caw, caw, wishing, duh, To Be Done With Message

Of course, especially one that some brine of heart sloshed up: some Reticular wisdom like as hair, hateful : some weird gloss over shadow Dims the bald head, the bald ‘Message’ - the crested ol’ bigot furious

Yawp yapping damnable in that there roast for the father: big squeeze, Squeeze of animus. Finally, down the block of stillness, down dug into The brig, obstructed color, rigid air, manic doors, kids laughing at him:

Little Mile : : feel it all over again : what answers can we get to as regards You fully: an elliptical, maybe? Or trash, or earthy disarrangement, dirt, Particles resulting in flipflop, wages made but unfulfilled for good? Or

Maybe marigolds !! Breezes coming out of their loops into wiggling weight Themselves, hulking as cathedral tunes, heavy with ambiguous threadiness, And that holy torment of an ever-figuring progenitor, professor of the

'Message'—black & bleak—against the righteous curiosity, ol' puff-head, ol' Apoplectic, Sorry For The State Of - - and dese homeless parties of the Sad. The sad chase, the chase as I must do is still solo. But grand, the

Hemophilic fire, the rusty brigade o’ pleaches o’ daffy hair, dummy cunt To stake on cosmic sex, just a blowoff: still. Then. Little dragoons whiffed It up anyways and blessed the fakery past mythos into real, made a great,

Big sepulcher for all 'em fathers: all the risks at tacky jive: lagoon: great, Great swoon of fibrous living out the ducky’s little murmuring in the mud, Tump-a-tump with buckles o’ swash : #dgaf : yet is we da pirate , as in ,

We is , we ah make anything magnificent and say it is that and leave it So. We. Croon and wait for that swell damned music’s dish to punch big and soft into the pillow : we: meet poetry POETRY POETRY POUR IT ALL

And soft into th. pillow. We. Down a side-street : have a baffled-eye ‘a sec: Din in the den gets closed the sisters ears : think some nature-shit: stfu: Bucolic site there wispy girl : pencil neck : root , , , for Image-Pleasant:

For you that is : root for the Panjundrum not, in his anger-yells all daffy, Deadening reasons for the noise, amplified like a big [bracket] to the side Of something, past declaration, past the final honesty and towards some

New squeamish chuck of ew-grease out of my bad throat : 'Message' Attempts to toughen with - providence, it feels, it knows - of mere scraps Of itself, and then I emit new strings for my shoes, frayed knot, couple

Stoners ranting in a parking lot when one sees a human innim and flees, From eye of him : one states the [bracket] as annotation even though it Supplies nothing : mere notation is as much enclitic for an infidel sense

As rhyming to behead borders of rhythm with timing , adding meaning Like chaff at the end while a sprocket ebbs out then 'splodes at once, a Gathering of mite and fingernail and bedding shod in the cracks under

The bland couch then sets aflame, burning down the garbage, which is Everywhere : police police : fuck da : : whelp : lost musings only whelm As much as one is willing to go rapidly , that is, will be as quality as the

Quicken, enacting some different statement thru defensive natures of style Like Declension : Logoaedic : parse the thought, then let it run before the Jello melts, food gets cold: picnic raped by ants. Premise of the rule. So the:

Uh: bracketed, shuffling fragged things dole more out for the warmness, As in, have something mean what it means, leave it at notation , make the Final well and, "End like a spear, not like a broom" - - Well, who knows

About honor: maybe just to prove myself I will right something really for Awhile too messed for the husbandman to mould with his ass: drop the Incisive manacles, they get my wrist bit with copper: write to right a thing

You never mention: madden out copper tongues: make demands about Stuff you have no idea you are actually talking about: but that's not going To mention itself either and is perhaps what is missing for the right reasons:

So why yell out proper tongues if that is all tongues want is their own voice To hock a spray of legit logey sniffed up the nasal psg. and out into the World. Well. Garbage burns itself to slew. But you like that. You enjoy

The mesmerized epiphanic trumpeting, priketh, prike prike : nasty uncle, He was , and a bald head a sunshine away from DEATH-LAZER. Stun, But be stupid as brick. As was said, I speak to reflect mirrors in darkness.

Should be obvious. Maybe this inkling of finding a new way to speak'll Dart straight for the first reason to pant and wave commodities at the sullen Sucker-tourist upon losing his next day's provender at the hands of silly kids.

DeMand: Wring rungs out proper tongues, lick pompous, drone on in thatt Stat o’ thing: status of thing: state of things: rut t tt t t t tt t tt t t tttt tt t t t t tttt Guts me : feeling in’t I feel nothing but in hole: & & & & & & & & & & & & &

Still the great compilers edge more into the fantastic, learn to eat it along with The tragic as one happy meal. Eventual blossom, hoping Mary and Ed ride fine Off into the sunset, cans tied to the bumper clicking like cliché: Jesus is sick :

He tells me so much is at risk here : then again, who could harbor such a feel But Big J or Yeezy : : well he’s a prick : that’s why you shouldn't music so much: I don’t listen to music nomores: even you’re tarnished bc of all this harlot noise

Attempting heaven, & whatnot : WHAT? WHO THN ?? WHAT THEN ?? So Fortunately, I’m Done. Getting into ye head. I’m already there. Felt random & Also, tortuous pressure spread keen thru label after label, waiting for sustenance,

It was given, as if words could ugh the body with ugh : feed me with 'don't' is What the character 'Message' means. This sentence means it is myself declaring A sentence. That is what it means, and the Myself in it shines out of that part of

It like some beautiful renegade oxygen, a distillation more perverse, a naked way, A death of all that damnable stuff we got our heads warped around in like some Exquisite Fucking Turban [tho false] tho, maybe drunk off picked points smacking

Of defeat, well : : : such's to give up meaning at all - - MESSAGE _a t_ _a l l_ [?] As if words could damage the body : does language uh have one string it can plukk To stop the heart?[.] Or does it all. Well. Uh, lose weight: is it a fascinating receptacle,

Or mere extensiveeverything: ” Do You Believe In God.” – – – – – – I wouldn't be Able to give you anything for jesus, much less Jews. HAve little idea what I believe. Belief is odd. I think I believe in, just, being chased, you know, for thievery. It's a

Saturated L.A. sun like in this song by [The National] it is called "Pink Rabbits." it Is really damn good I remember feeling like the string to my heart almost cut that one Time. But I couldn't tell you anything a medium in some spooky curtained shop

Wouldn't be able to perform with a bit more erggh 'flair' well damn I despise flair write To construct a core or write to DeMand to write or write to right something wrong w. Your sister's [hairdo] or write about strings. Write about all the strings. What all of

Them would do if connected THE WORLD IS POME across the globe. Don't think There'd be much room else for people. Well no worries then, you’ll steal hunches till you Can’t even breathe a thinnest wisp of sister-air. Enjoy never figuring out anything. I

Like to tip-toe but that's no way to run , I gotta say the world is fucked w/o a point , , , The drain is really sick [!] w. all this flood it might as well be the guts of garbage And the rightness of wrong , of the failed and of lineage thru language do we bring

Our own booze do we sing some amped version of the obvious soullessness everybody Gets to grate all over everybody else like some annoying sadness too small for this World, too inscrutable to be anything bt what it is, what it is not anything, as POME

Is words, not ideas, get subjugated by need to buddy up with certainty by corroborating This or that line with another, breaking another, letting pennies go slipshod thru da Grate, while all the while mighty confusion rends a new surprise in plain polished sight,

But o the bees in my gut wig out more folly but as plain to live and hope by their ruin To bring the ties untangled, yes, state the statement-as-goal, martyr a few mirrors thru Indelible mistake, ending Kierkegaard at Democritus' river etc. NO WE NEVER

STEP THRU THE SAME RIVER TWICE NO NOR PERHAPS ONCE, anyways, The bees escape nathless from a pirson-prison. In spite of all this floppy flotsam, Like some weird torture. The stingings bless, the robust yellow flow mitred across

De backs uf'm. And I still considerable, a regular pill for the unagog men still seeing Me unsightly, some lack, some twit, some spook : er something as like, as what god Makes of his leftovers in the afternoon between jobs: but me young boss: HOSS:

What?, zooks, gain, what gain 'questionmark' nothing an adorable steeple could not Bring together as all us wonderful people together rise them, these middle fingers- -Pointing up UP UP, run with lacking, then, fuck, huh?, shut up, suited only to

Sslipped phrase, the bank account gets canceled & yr out on the streets with only Luck and Fucks to feed you. Wiring runoff, shattered, wrecked, fetid, but all of it So Human that nobody seems to mind: neither of those three words can understand

My theosophy, nor gainsay, I'm too cryptic: : fault fault, fault fault, thwartedness- -But still continuance, shorn but not straight dead. Lucky but suffering. What a bore, To get brought in by force, to the party, snatch a few lichen, press against petri dish

To make dialogue unheard of or no at the party what this is about, this sleight of hand, This emotional screening we seize up and clench our asshole to forget about, rot in it I Say, row those sewage tentacles, mandibles, new legs from the mess, new smack to

The veins, new shot, lessening as day and eyesight, NARCAMNARCAM. Ruin stake [valuesystem] bless me achoo gradient risen sceptic collide me w truth,

Ruin stake dress me up in my garters and delirious falbalas at table, valuesystem,

Run to the ruin: make stand up puppetry the rotary: vast tracts of time enable the- -Child to believe he is infinite. Child god goes wishing-wishing at peak, wishing To see: you flee from definition like that stoner guy from earlier all the time, you

You let the questions mysteries bleed out thru yr fanciful cufflinks: drat: quaint: Wanna bleed staid blood. Want to create the hurt that must hurt, that must come: Just to have some control, as elusive blood, got to pour lopsided from a precious

Wound : : we gaze into ourselves and do not speak, wondering what batty thing Happened back there: we go wishing to dash away performance with a little more Laze: 5-year-old Genius. But yea. But, with you I shuffle into someone free. You

You see the curtain and you know the pianist is behind it nodding off into overdose: You are knowing what curtains mean and that curtains rarely help to cover meanings: You realize there is nothing to peek at nothing to see so you shrug and go home to

Your death, ever-approaching some more-appropriate redness , , , but the redness in The West , tho. What's with that haze that looks like the hoarsest GLARE of all: It is the shot in the arm taken too breezy, brought you to the finale, the glimpse then

Recession into embedding blank blankets of so-and-so upon your life, weighty big Deaths greeting you with comfort, delicious sating of the lorn, and raggedy willful Bravery so long perceived like an animal, that is, now seen so much to salute. So I

Have access now into your maze : it is dangerous here : bees go grinding against the Gut. Entrails that trail haphazard underneath everything forever : the flighty frolic Of your hair, sister : good on you for nvr doing hoarse/horse. Your hair that speaks

In looks looks like the bigger maze, the bigger harder hug to give one day when just , When things get better: just so one don't get bitter, what from examining all sides of The same pipe dream. DeMand, and makes thus bigger dissonance w. me. Say me,

Of your aspect, at base, nothing less, your talent is my name and sister-curse, my uh My name is one to have in spades, you gotta have it so it radically disappears under A veil mentioned elsewhere in full wherein the chase is always and never the point

As your legs, extremities exist by the disappearance of a prior location, or some Name, some name called death we get into other ideas 'bout. But it is a lost name. Bu I cannot bless more than I bleed. Whatever that means. Perhaps I tell

This to others, they do not offer but stares and blinking : oh alienation : what an Easily dismissible thing : REAL PROBLEMS hah : in that case, those girls Kidnapped in Nigeria're having real problems : suffering is subjective & hell

We, as In I, Race Towards It as anything the wiser, wise as answer, jus cast answer, Jus cast ANSWER:- whatever happen to be, jus quake out a few inappropriate Inabilities in front of anyway, including meshing: hear aspersions there, here

And there: I say, if one feels pathos then uh you know the whitest lash fuck express it, fuck!, don’t you painful on your brow loose the snow came, bother with a perfect shape as the clad in crammed houses families shape you have is naturally a very frown at homies, themselves children, improvisation, imperfect as a sky made random and the same as all storm, asleep flakes or something, like, one sky, just made like me to feel like an actor one. i guess, uh. that is what i make like to me guess. that nothing happens if we within the thin walls, while bruised dads glimpse the hood are indifferent or something. give in rochester, barely guap to eat, to obsession, passion etc. then uh my father runs into a grand jizz what follows’s a thing the greater on the way back captures it and puts it in a safe . for therapy. write on for therapy? his father was a vato, well fuck yes. do it and do it and gift-wrapping raining down do it. i like channeling whitman , , on christmas, wanting to capture fame and getting the pink slip . cuz it’a means wealth, like, iduno it was majestic, slowly he i guess like, [vulgate,vulgate] it drowned in throat cancer, later. my dads hates is freewheeling all over the place christmas, but at least he caught a good fuck in childhood and without regards -blank- see yu kno, i cant write on tumblr atm bc something is wrong with my uhhhhhh

keyboard. it doesn’t allow me to , , delete the space between one anddd another line. so i am writing this

to you. it’s probably not really i guess to interesting just see that infinitesimal cube understood so , ,

uh, distantly, as me here, in this room, hanging out with whitman! as in i see ‘im, right here. he is in

the corner smiling to himself bout some private meditation, mostttttt likely. have you figured out this

is a msg in enjambments yet?, you are really cool and ring out , , , , , , despite, right?, whether or not or

maybe regardless. PART II : : : : ERHEM: fast sadness folds in a toilet like down it you know like those soothing squares, gulls take to the particles after response to command goes lagging, and the aqueduct explodes filter to filter after longing for more than garbage could recall, prideful trash–

garbage i done made myself blind blabhah i done made a bad hither, done dash right into the fount of degrading. i feel very such things as i feel and call them detritus still. i am monstrous i am - big eye, i can fuck myself without any charity-help from anybody.

i am to call myself things like topaz once the giddy girth sloshes within a pictureframe's modest dimensions, and the sharks while snapping snapped alive by the implied sort of movement given only to starkly imperishable images that lighten you up at the art

show. well its time t-to start from the start and start a movement founded on a ginger ignorance of other movements. is i-t: is time to start from the beginning of focus way past bemused glance, ripe glare, teeth beside themselves w cavities of roe and garlic:

it’s time to inaccurately anticipate something, like we knew it was coming and wanted our surprise to look nice. anticipate the perfect slur, find a wide audience for that: it is, uh, time to enact maelstrom considerably, like, lofted above the saddest cloud's

drenching of itself: clouds they are clowns : be sure to recognize the hidden voice, what rattles us is not the mystery of how and logical wherefore but in transmuting some odd warfare of a distant crud's finding, that is - - - it is not what links but what is explained,

which for me is the distance crud, or clod, i call planet : am i a part of it or do i depart from its frequent accusings, importances, rudeness, and flat commodity, material, or just shattered booms hailing the demise of precept got so infrequent that one, less

righteous, is more thru the confessional of the lessness, a lesson : us, , rule, , : the sea like an antelope’s stride is, that is, like the picture purely between man, shark, and sea, of slopping sides over the frames of the picture: something by movement not volume,

by not expanse but a few flits of eye - big eye, - regardless of bigness it is, is and will be there for when the ranting stays, crucial delectable bizarre 'mischance of machinery' while the self goes further out, taken by the turning tides, and then yet this is a bit more

than mangling the heart by placing it on sleeve; this will always be here, distant, or like, remote!, yeh, better word!, you will disassociate whatever

from whatever, [edittttttttttt ttt ] from your blinding clarity [edit] : : you will take an eye out for the bossman cannot : since

wills black as char make the crud, clod, dusty clod, a piece of crud: "shouldn't be so hard to have a nice day." Mutter and grimace. wake up to totally remove yourself in the only way possible, that is, from the world of dreamstate: and piss dole me a new

self of yuck and maelstrom. PART III : : drying the die out of to play craps . or somethings like pinochle of life itself, shouted madman. made anterior who wants the soul who wants it made outside of use I see. something— / something digs for a very hinting it goes like something as must to stop,

as much to save the world as self by saving declamatoriations [!!!!!] declarations yeas, declaiming . / well go ahead and rue the ensuing bratty corps of lifer’s whom stake much on image / nada -rtiet- [edit] editwrite made something is^^^ within that words

them words something letters inverted salamander-language seen spanking new by breaking every rule, ruling over breaks like you had more time. / discovering the body, etc. and it all makes you want to imprint on the wise world some attmept, to do more

by removal of sense if sense is not snuffed out already by now in this senseless world, just going on and on!!!! to the creakiest hints shuffling under floorboards like captives from the bad!! quite the soul search. make more inklings, don't harry yourself, I say,

to discover a bunch of cool shit, also, uh, master it. master thinking in language. maybe i always never did nitpick and nitpick only yeup that is me I knit together the nits the nits are scratchiness, a scratchiness. then I think about how nice honesty is as re the slow

deliverance or rather sparing of us all by the most high / as by and by,, we grope for some bigger socket to launch a sensitivity of me I we errybody into, and me and ha and ha. ALERT. cannot diverge ALERT ALERT ALERT!!! Whoop show./Whopp whoop

whoop, can’t but take it down I wsiwiwsh i wish i was blind, i wish the rails weren’t so sharky : : so bloome [!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] 5$%uh September 13, 2014. Leave a comment Edit POME34 there is language to report, a monster essence. hammer away

and believe till the growth gets funnier and then throw it away handsomely / feel it run like sand thurr rthru your thru thru you[edit]hrought your fineger.s ample tome, im ean time, to write, requite certain disposable nothings like a big random power/ mind goes

and glowers at itself again. ah you kno. broken triangle. anything broken becomes an angle or many. a ziggidy line or somesuch. / so break a whole, rift it to life as some ziggidy line. some sorta line that breathes with uncaring for anything like information

but retaineing formless form as if your occupation was with something else/ let relax the

strands in you ankel, let the angel fall my dear / dont deny it / yur a good person, dammit. all the se facile blunders. all this. these stupid years of making. in the making,

or just making, about too. etc. greqat. great magnificent quiet [edit] is that which i search for and make and build into the most complex geometric shape for good / only to rift it and - - make what people would holy-fy even more bettr than the more better it was /

bby oh how you go on concealing pleanty of plaintiveness. am i nice ?? so what if you are. youre a stara special star . . . yr starved, strande line you ssay you are a bulk of issues you say you dance like a man made

of things .. light as wing . dwindle. wind. light as wind. so much so much to destroy sitll. my eyes need more blurs t[edit] to in order make everything wrong rightwise. foreget aspbergers. or any label / speak pretty

mane’s ruffling sinousity in wind. / a bloke with flow / gnarly [edit] speak charlie stude the sirfur, charlie stud is he who rides the wave, rides wthe wave in /by just meeting

wit ha hello and a hahaha at ripe ombustive ripe combustiveness at / a large offense

#writing #poetry

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ace-dread · 3 years

Text

Arthur Cyrano Brenner, aka Art

I miss when my biggest problems were Mondays. My present conundrum is this cage I'm in, which was probably designed for a hamster.

Confused? Me too. But lemme back it up here. Start you off with the basics.

My name’s Arthur Brenner. We’ve never met, but I’ll bet you know someone like me. Every class has an Arthur (I prefer being called Art). You know, the smartest, wittiest, most charming, coolest, and best-looking. Oh yeah, and I'm currently 3 inches tall. I’m kidding. Except about the part where I'm 3 inches tall. That's real.

Lemme take you to where it all began:

MONDAY

I folded my cardboard home down and shoved it into a little crevice I called home. Just beneath it, brand-new shoes I’d found a few days before. They were a perfect fit, but I couldn’t bring myself to wear them. I always ended up thinking that they were too new and far too cool to be on a homeless. Besides, people who saw me with them would think I'd stolen them, and the last thing I ever wanted was attention.

I treaded the narrow ledge along the sloped concrete and slipped out from under the bridge. I was always cautious here; walk too quickly, and you could end up like the poor guy a couple of weeks ago, who ended up losing a few limbs and several quarts of blood after sliding down and taking a glancing hit from a truck. It’s a callous world, so the only person you should ever look out for is yourself. Write that down, kids.

I glanced down at my cheap prepaid phone. The tiny clock on the top flip indicated that I was gonna be late if I didn’t haul ass. I began to run at a quickened pace, not because I'm particularly worried about tardies, but because a phone call to my nonexistent parents would get me kicked out. And to forfeit two meals a day and 8 hours of A/C, for free? I may be stupid, but I’m not an idiot.

I had always been on my own, for as long as I could remember. I don’t know what happened to my folks, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. But what I lacked in family, I made up with street smarts. Looking over my shoulder had become second nature to me. Not much scared me, because there wasn’t much to be afraid of. Darkness? Pah. Baby stuff. Getting raped? Well, I ain’t a chick (sorry, ladies. But we all know a man isn’t gonna get raped as easily as you.) Robbed? There wasn’t jack you could steal from me. Killed? Death would be welcome to try me.

A man with a sharp stick and nothing left to lose can take the day, they say.

After a long jog and a stealthy slip past school security, I dashed into first block at 7:09, out of breath and trying to decide whether or not my heart was going to jump out of my chest. After a few seconds, I figured that I was gonna be OK. I felt an elbow jab my ribs. “We didn’t think you were gonna make it, man,” said David. The guy was the closest thing I had to a best friend.

I’d met David a while back, outside an art show I was genuinely interested in, while he went just to hang out or make fun of the artwork. But when his friends forgot to mention they weren’t going anymore, he stuck it out with me as I explained the art to him. He didn’t really appreciate it the way I thought he should, but he liked me enough to keep me around, I guess.

“I’m guessing you bet on it,” I sighed with mock contempt. In response, he showed me his cashless wallet and gestured to his left at Rocco, our local kid genius. He was quiet, I was awkward, but David made it up by being the most rambunctious guy everywhere he went. We balanced each other out.

“We had a bet going. I was gonna win if you didn’t make it on time. But Rocco here is a thief and a card reader or something,” he said jokingly, and lightly punched Rocco’s arm. “Idiot.” In response, Rocco smiled toothily and held up about 20 dollars’ worth of money. Halfway through the class, I felt David poke my ribs again. “Hey man, I almost forgot,” he whispered as he poked my arm and nodded his head across the room to his girlfriend, Kayla. “I just dumped her and told her I was leaving her for some hot chick from the place I’m moving to next week.” “Dubai?” “Yeah. I’m not actually dumping her for another girl, I just figured I’d crush her heart on the way out,” he smirked. I shook my head and turned to see the girl, who was busy giving us not-so discreet nasty looks. I gave her a sympathetic shrug. David may have been my best friend, but I'd be a liar to say he was anything more than a spoiled douchebag. But every guy knows that rule number one of Bro Code is Bro’s before hoes. It applied no matter what; even if my boy David was a little cruel. As for Kayla, she just raised an eyebrow and faced the front for the teacher to tell us all about the War of 18-flipping-12. As the bell rang, I passed Kayla on my way out. She looked at me and grabbed my arm. “Please be sure to give this to David, Art,” she said slowly, as if she were about to lose it if she didn’t watch herself. I felt a slab of metal or something slip into my hand—a memento of some sort, I guessed. “Sure,” I said uneasily. I pulled my arm away and skedaddled outta there. I felt bad for Kayla. She had never wronged me, or David, as far as I knew. She had a sweet face and a proud aura, but something about her… just didn’t click. Add to that fact that her best friend, Corday, was one of the creepy freaks of the school, and she made my “do not disturb” list. Corday was on another level, though. She was always alone and very quiet, but I swear, every time we made eye contact, it was as if she was peering straight into my soul. I ended up losing David in the crowd and decided I would give it to him the next time I saw him. This thing probably wasn’t even worth it, anyway. I maneuvered through the crowd skillfully and easily, gliding through gaps and spaces. Have you seen The Matrix? Where Keneau Reeves plays Neo, the guy who weaves bullets? That’s me in a busy hallway. My agility and reaction time paired together made me pretty kick-ass, and them’s the fucking facts.

But I guess it was fate (or maybe Karma) that caused me to become so caught up in my bullet-weaving fantasy that I didn’t notice the girl who popped out of the English hallway. I slammed into her, dropping her binder.

“Agh, sorry,” I mumbled out quickly, unaware of who it was. But when I did, I wished I could die. She looked at me, sighed in frustration, and started to bend down to pick it up. But before she could, I swiped it off the ground. “Here. I’m sorry, uh... Wiley, right?” I said nervously as I handed it over to her. She turned it over in her hands, not looking at me. “Uh... yeah?” she said after a few excruciating seconds. I shoved my hands in my pockets and teeter-tottered on my feet. “Isn’t biochem next period?” She gave me a look—one that involved a narrowing of her pale green eyes—that made me feel so stupid that I just wanted to keel over and die.

“Are… you okay, Art?”

“Right. Sorry.” I cringed. I never needed parents to embarrass me, I did just fine on my own. “Well, we’d better hurry on up, then. I’d hate to be late,” she said indifferently. goddamn it. It’s so frustrating to have such a hard time making conversation. It’s not like Wiley and I had never spoken before. We’ve actually spoken quite a bit. But actually being able to say something of substance to your crush is extremely difficult. You guys know how it is. Every time is like the first time.

Wiley was always that kinda girl who… gosh, how to describe. She was fine, oh so fine. She had long dirty blonde hair, pale but beautiful green eyes. Really smart. Gentle in everything she did, a leader, a capable person. She had been taking a martial art class, which gave her slim yet toned curves; and that much more perfect. Oh, and straight A’s. Can’t forget that lovely brain of hers.

I had had multiple encounters with her, and each time I would mess up worse than the last time. The worst one was the time I attempted to flirt. The rest had been sad attempts at conversation.

I mean, her name was Wiley. Isn't that a beautiful name? A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Which is what I told her as I sidled up casually to her locker. "Wiley," I said. "Arthur," she said. "A beautiful name for a beautiful girl," I said. "What is? Arthur?" "No, Wiley." "What?" "Wiley. I was just saying I thought it would be a beautiful name for a beautiful girl." "Oh, really!" she said, giving me serious fish-eye. "It would be, huh? For a beautiful girl. But not for me, huh? Is that what you're saying? You just came all the way over here, acting all cool, to tell me I should give my name to some beautiful girl because I'm too much of a pig to have the name?" At this point I could have explained. But I had this bad feeling that the moment was past. You know? Like nothing I could possibly say was going to make this work. "How about if we just say this conversation never happened?" I suggested. "How about if I just turn and walk away?" "That would be a good idea.”

Days later, she apologized for not giving the impression that she was joking. Hell, I was happy that she had been okay with me, not me with her. I genuinely thought that I had offended her. And although later on, it would become a sort of inside joke between us, it was still an embarrassing episode I wanted to forget.

We barely made to class and took our seats just before the bell. Ms. Net, our Biochemistry teacher, was a young woman. She was always cranky and had a skewed sense of humor, but I guess she was a decent enough woman. On our trip to the Museum of National Science, she had been cool enough to let Wiley and I pair up. Honestly, you could say Wiley had chosen me, because there was no way I would’ve had the guts to-

“ARTHUR!” “Hughwugoah.” Considering the fact that Ms. Net had scared the shit out of me, I guess that was a reasonable sound.

“I’VE BEEN TELLING YOU TO GO TO YOUR TABLE-GROUP FOR THE PAST MINUTE!” she yelled, clearly alerting the class to my predicament. To my embarrassment, I could see Wiley already at our table, snickering her face off.

“Yes’m.” I could feel my ears and cheeks burning as I passed her desk. she slapped my chest with a couple of papers and groaned.

“This is your group assignment. Try NOT to zone out again, huh, Arthur? it’s too early for your bullshit.” Behind me, the class could not control their stupid little laugh session.

I sat down quickly and gave my group their papers. “I wanna die,” I moaned, looking at the ceiling and ignoring the snickers from my group mates: Taylor, Wiley, and Julia.

Lemme give you guys the 4-1-1.

Julia was the blonde ditz. Picture a blonde, mall-shopping, spray-tanning bimbo in your head and chances are your imagination conjured up a girl that looks and acts a lot like Julia. As for Taylor, it’s a little more complicated than that. We go way back. We’d been friends since we were in Velcros. We were what many would label “frenemies”; we would slam each other with insults and go the extra mile to prank or mess with one another, but were generally pretty decent people to one another. Both of us were only children (or in my case, only one in a family), so we became the siblings we never had for one another. Oh, and she was tall as fuck. “Art. Hey. Buddy. Wake the hell up,” Taylor said, snapping her fingers right in front of my face. I’d zoned out. Daydreaming of a sparkling conversation with the girl on my left. “What do you want, Taylor?” “Just wondering when you and Wiley were gonna hook up,” she said casually. She framed us with her fingers and nodded in approval. “Yeah, that’d be a cute couple, right Julia?” Julia smiled her big cheerleader smile. “Real cute!” She squealed. “Oh, come on guys. Knock it off,” I uttered nonchalantly, and glanced at Wylie, who was beet-red. Almost like… she was… “Is that a bwuuuussshhhhhhh??” Cooed Taylor in this sickening baby speak. Poor Wiley could barely get up and out of the classroom without tripping. I contorted my face to hide my own blush and to show my anger, which wasn’t all that hard considering I really did feel like giving them a piece of my mind. “What the heck, guys? She probably feels terrible for me, she can’t hook up with me, she probably has a boyfriend!” I exclaimed, panting. I didn’t quite know why I was feeling so jittery though. I chalked it down to a bad breakfast that I never had because there was absolutely no way… “She likes you, Art. And she doesn’t and has never had a boyfriend. Her aunt and uncle won’t let her,” she spit out indifferently. Nope. No way. Too good to be true. Yep. Had to be. Yep. “You… you’re lying,” I sputtered out. Julia shook her head and unlocked her phone. “Guys. So clueless!” I decided to ignore her comment and focus on Taylor. “Taylor… be straight with me, no jokes,” I pleaded nervously. “Do you really think that-“ “Arthur, tell me that you’ve finished your paper, or so help me god!” Ms. Net roared. I glanced down at my paper as the class began to snicker at me yet again. I hadn’t even put my name on it yet. Julia, however, raised her hand. “Yes ma’am, here’s my paper. We did it on a single sheet,” she said with a sweet and innocent smile. I glanced at the paper. All she’d written down was 2+2=5 and, knowing her, she probably thought it was true. Ms. Net gave me some serious stink-eye, but decided to let it go. “Well, alright then, but no more talking. I’m about to start the presentation,” she said, just as Wiley walked in with an unreadable expression. I couldn’t bring my eyes to meet her, though. Gravity does things to your eyes, am I right? She sat down quietly and after a few awkward minutes, she was back to her normal self. Funny, sweet, happy Wiley. After being assigned homework, I was so excited that I could barely pay any attention to it. “Art,” Wiley whispered tentatively, maybe even nervously. “You look like you’re having trouble with the homework.” I took a deep breath and attempted to relax my vocal cords. “Yeah, I am. Too bad I won’t have you around to help me, Einstein,” I whispered softly, gesturing at her paper. The girl was some sort of genius at Biochem; she’d already finished the 2 page homework. “Well,” she smiled with what seemed to be reddening cheeks, “You could always call me, you know, after school,” she smiled. She stuck her hand in her pockets and produced a little piece of paper with her name and number. It took all I had not to jump up and down and lose my mind. What a fine day it was turning out to be!

After Biochemistry, the day had practically zipped on by. I became so lost in my own world that I didn’t hear the bells to the next classes. It was only until the end of the day, in the last block with Taylor, that my world came crashing down.

We were just finishing up our project when she started talking of the days events out of the blue.

“I told you, she totally digs you, Art,” she teased. But then, her mood totally changed. Taylor leaned back into her chair and sighed heavily. “You do know that she’s moving, right?” she asked softly. I turned my head to look at her, unable to believe it. And from the way she was expressing herself, I knew she couldn’t have been kidding. You get to know people a decade and change. “No,” I squeak out after a few moments of silence. “She’s leaving some time at the beginning of the next school year. I just thought you’d want to know that time is limited if you want to make a move, if at all,” she says carefully. I shake my head and look down. “Thank you for letting me know,” I whisper. She grabbed my shoulder from behind and gave me a quick pat. “Make your move, son, ‘fore it’s too late,” she said in a fake southern accent. I shook my head softly and left silently just as the bell released us.

I took the long way to the bridge, mulling over my conflicting emotions. I was glad that Taylor told me, and desperately disappointed that Wiley was leaving. However, something new, something warm found its way into and around my heart. My crush actually liked me back. Now that’s right out of a fairy tale, but like always, I never could, never would, have myself a happily ever after. After a lifetime of disappointment, I knew I couldn’t afford to let my hopes fly, just for another scar in my heart.

I spent the evening watching reruns of various TV shows, on a tiny television I had found behind Radio Shack a few weeks before. Even though the only way to get electricity to it was to hand crank a small power generator continuously, I appreciated the distraction it provided. The burning sensations my muscles generated kept my mind off what was actually troubling me.

It helped too much, I guess, because I didn’t even notice the car that pulled over on the edge of the highway my bridge passed over, nor did I notice the person that clambered out. What did catch my attention, though, were the words I heard. “Arthur? Arthur Brenner?” Called the school dean. The school dean! Legally, I wasn’t even allowed to go to school without a home address. I couldn’t control the panic I felt as she walked around, stilettos making echos that sent chills down my spine. She’s here to collect me, put me in the foster home system, move me away to a school way away. Oh, Universe, I thought sadly. Will you ever leave me alone? She turned on a flashlight and took a look around, peering at and inside the alcoves of the bridge. Just when I thought she was leaving, I looked up. I expected to feel relief, but what I did feel was my blood turn to ice when I saw her looking right at me, with steely black eyes. “Come with me, young man,” she yelled, her hand beckoning me to what I was certain was my doom. I had no option but to comply, and as I entered the car and closed the door, I couldn’t help but wonder if Wiley would miss me. I sincerely doubted it.

#wellllll shit what're y'all doin. screwin?#hey man I dunno how to use Tumblr yet ok #giantess stuff that leads to characterization over fetishization if that makes sense #giantess

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