One- Ink Poisoning

Dear... you,

 

    I find it sexist Mr. Peters decides it's a good idea for my men's identity to remain anonymous, but the women have to tell you who they are. But this whole "Oh, you write a letter, drop it in the box marked with your period number, and we will give it to another opposite gender in another period." But mercy me- this whole penpal idea is wack anyways. Hi, I'm Babylon King- but call me Cari, I hate the idea of having the name of an early civilization. I'm punk. But you obviously have seen me at some point in the halls, so you know that.  I'll spare you the crummy and dismaying details- I'm an orphan. But, since I don't know who you are and am most likely not going to like you when I meet you at the end of this semester, I'll tell you every grueling fact of why I don't have parents.

    My parents were rockers- partiers if you will- and my mom got pregnant. Shocker. Even more of a shocker? My dad wasn't even her boyfriend. How you like them apples? 

    So my mom decided it was a good idea to drop me off the side of a canyon road and tell me to keep walking the other direction- dehydration kicked in, and I was found by some priest on his way to a sermon.

    Father Reginald was an extremely religious man, and did not a thing without praying for a sign this was the right decision. The man would have once gone pantless to a grocery store if I hadn't talked him out of it. I still live with Reginald, but we avoid eachother- because I am the blackest form of blasphemy you could get at, and he's the purest form of prayer.

     So now, I'll await your answer. But don't think I'll even as much as read through a full sentence of your message. Because, mister, I have a good gut feeling your just another one of these steroid-druggie jerks.

 

Wickedly- But Not Yours,

Babylon (Cari) King

Reviews

[No name]

Wow she is very out spoken. Nice write so far.