Three- Like A BossA Chapter by Alice Patterson
After three tries to post this, I WILL triumph.
This chick is rabid. Like a fermented/annoyed squirrel of effin' steriods that hasn't eaten in a few days.
Dang, this is girl is crazy mean. Of course I was appalled when I read the name, Babylon King.
Allow me to tell you a sad story of Mitchel Ross- who never went to France, who's parents are divorced, and whom has never had a girlfriend except for the second grade and she dumped me after I didn't give her my M&M's. I'm still traumatized.
Observe a frantic little five-year-old boy who's eyes are bulgy, red, and the small collar of his shirt is lightly dotted with tear stains. He runs around the house, looking for mom- but alas, she is nowhere. Because after dad threw a vase at mom and mom threw a fork- of whoch embedded itself in my dad's right calf- mommy and daddy divorced.
Now observe 12 year old frantic Mitchel. He at least had enough balls to try out for basketball. He looks across the room and finds six girls huddling in a half-circle and giggling at guys who try to impress them. Merely six yards away, sits another twelve-year-old-girl with black hair streaked with red, sucking on a lollipop reading a tattered copy of Charlotte's Web. She looks at me and smiles. So here I am, totally mesmerized sitting on a basketball staring at this overly-thin twelve year old with racoon-eyes and red lipstick. She begins to amble toward me, obviously malnourished by the way she's walking, but finally reaches me.
"Hi, I'm Babylon." She says, extending a pale right hand towards me. I flip curly brown hair out my eyes and shake her hand.
She smiled at my stutter.
"You got a last name, Mitchel?"
I nodded, panicked.
"Well?" She gestured around, an annoyed look on her face.
"Ross. Mitchel R-Ross." I scramble for words.
"Okay, well, Mitchel. I like you, but don't get carried away. Oh, and I'm going to call you Mr. Ross occasionally. But don't think I'm something of an assistant. I'm Babylon- ooh, and call me Cari, because if you don't I'll snap your neck like a twig. As I was saying, I'm Cari, your Mr. Ross. That's all, no if's, and's, or but's. Mr. Ross sounds good, y'know?" She paused, "Like a boss."
© 2012 Alice Patterson
Added on January 28, 2012
Last Updated on January 28, 2012
Only a Kid, But Hard To Scare, CA
AboutI am a poet and novelist, though I seldom write short stories other than soliloquies about fictional characters. I love music from the seventies, eighties, and nineties, and alternative music from the.. more..