"shut up" "whatever" | l.t. au

nueve

As the millionth episode began to play, Kathryn or Kate or Ryn or Cereal-Face-Hoe-Ass-Lookin'-Woman (whichever seemed appopriate at the time) sets her now empty bowl on the coffee table and pauses the screen.

Ryn holds her knees to her chest and scoots toward me with her seemingly constant child-like expression that somehow let me know there were irritating questions up her sleeve, making me roll my eyes instantly with just a look.

"Lewis."

"Louis."

She snorts, "such a prissy gay name."

"I don't need to take this, actually."

"Can we please pretend your name is Bill? Billford just sounds so cool and professional, I think that's my sister's car dealer's name is Raymond Billford but I just like Billford. I like it because it sounds professional and cool. And old. Wait, did I already say..? Anyways, how old do you have to be to change your name legally? Because I've always wanted my name--"

She basically just continues to drone on and I stare at the screen in the open living room, sitting beside what possibly the devil.

"You kinda make me want to stab forks into my eyeballs sometimes..." I mumble, already feeling a head-ache.

"Whatever," she shrugs with a pleased smile that shouldn't exist as late as it is.

What time is it? How many hours have I wasted in this stupid house?

"Uhm, love, what is the time?" I absent-mindedly grab the remote and read the description for the next episode. Scott has got himself into some deep shit, the stupid bastard, and Kourtney's decision is eating at me, hoping they'll make up.

The idiot she is, Ryn looks at her naked wrist and stares at awhile in deep thought.

I just...watch her watch her wrist carefully as if she were watching a watch, blinking as I don't see any point in speaking up about it.

"It's 2:30," she looks at me with a blank expression.

"Don't believe me just watch," she does this dumb thing where she snaps and points all cocky like Peter Parker in Spider-Man 3.

Not that I watch that one.

Not that I watch it about monthly.

Not that I've memorized the first half of the lines.

I walk into the kitchen to check the microwave clock.

2:29.

The fuck.

I look back at her through the doorway and she only shrugs.

"I don't know, bruh. You'd think it'd help me keep a stable job, always knowing the darned time," her face kind of tilts into a :/ as she shrugs, turning back to the T.V. with a kind of 'Oh Well' sigh.

"You don't have a job?" I ask, creasing my brows at the high cieling and expensive looking furniture.

"Nope," she pops the 'p' and sighs, "I mess things up too often and-- I don't know. I'm a little bit of a screw up." Her nose wriggles a bit at the end of her sentence.

I feel like that'd look cute to some people but it only made me roll my eyes. Most of thing things she does seems to.

"The hell are you paying for this flat, then?"

"I live with my sister. She's a film-maker. 3 movies out already," she says mono-tone as if she's said it too many times to too many people. "Getting married soon, though. I need to find a job before hand. She's already irritated with me."

"Yeah, okay, I didn't ask for your life story, asshole," I roll my eyes and flop on the couch.

"What's your middle name?"

I slowly take my eyes off the screen with the mental image of knives shooting into my temples and it seems relatively calming.

I only stare into her cheerful eyes in reply, hoping I look threatening and cold enough so I don't have to get up and 1-800-choke-dis-hoe.

"You don't need to know my middle name," I say after losing the staring contest, souly because Khloe and Scott showed on the screen, meaning shit's going down.

"I can handle it." Ryn pauses the screen.

"Don't be fucking rude," I say in a surprisingly well Kim impersonation.

"What's your favorite color?"

"I came here to steal shit and have a good time, and I'm honestly feeling so attacked right now."

"Mine is yellow."

"Of course it is."

"Like chilled lemonade. And pee. Not like a lot of urine, like light pee. A lot of urine is, like, an ugly dark yellow. And it smells bad. Like ew, right?" She laughs her dumb stoner laugh.

"You are so gross," I mutter, sighing.

"Says the one with long, greasy hair. Fricken hobo lookin' ass thot ass hoe ass bitch ass, mhnm."

"DOn't even say nothin' to me boyy, you look like a muhfuckenuuuuhhhhhh!"

It's very late.

"Also, it's not greASy, it's Arabic Hair Oil. It's damn healthy."

"Why would-"

"MY HAIR WAS DRY BUT I OVER-APPLIED."

Ryn snorts. "Heh, that rhymes. Hair too dry, but I over-applied. Hair too dry, but I muthah-BEEPIN' over-apPLIED, uh, uh."

"Hoe, peace tf out."

I open the nearest window on instinct and flip out of it with only one hand. It seemed swift and swaggy in my head, but went very unsuccessfully and possibly broke my wrist and my weinee.

a/n:

(hi friends). (you're not my friends actually...) (unless just my friends are reading thing because they know I'll throw fireballs of rage if they don't.) (It's nothing personal we can be friends if you want, just...support me.) (pls)