Long Hard Road Out Of Hell (Marilyn Manson) ON HOLD

Portrait Of An American Family

We trudged back to the car and piled our bags into the boot. I'd bought a bunch of stuff, clothes, shoes and hats from Blue Banana, Tribal Voice, New Look, Primark, Holister and River Island, makeup, hair and nail products Boots, Superdrug and Mac and the most amazing smelling bath and skin products from Lush. Manson hadn't really bought much but I think this outing was mostly for me, which I was extremely grateful for.

"So," Manson began, shutting the boot loudly and leaning against it. "Where do you want to go to for lunch?"

I echoed his body language and leaned against the boot pensively, as if I didn't already have a place in mind the second we left this morning.

"The Stanery."

"The Stanery?"

"Yeah, it's a pub in Plymton me and my mum used to go to all the time. The location is kinda inconvienient but they do the most amazing cheese toasites there." My mouth started watering just thinking about it.

Manson looked very confused untik he asked "what's a cheese toastie?"

My face dropped and I raised my eyebrow. "Are you serious?" He nodded innocently and I sighed as I thought of an explanation. "It's basically like a cheese sandwich but the bread is toast and the cheese has salt and pepper added to it."

"Oh, you mean a grilled cheese?" Stupid Americans and their stupid language.

"Yes Marilyn, if we're going to be padantic." He stuck his tongue out at me playfully and we were about to get in the car when I heard a familiar voice. Without needing apperance clarification I knew who it was and rushed to get in, but unfortunately, it was too late. Prepare for apocalyptic doom.

"Oh my God, Dixie?" Shit. I turned around slowly to face the Wotsit faced, slug eyebrowed drag queen smiling sickeningly sweet at me with her bright pink lips that she really needed to line before applying such a noticable colour.

"Hi Belle," I said flatly, smiling weakly. Her name was such an oxymoron it made me cry with laughter the first time I saw her, all the way back in recpetion. I used to go to many schools around Plymouth, but the one I stayed at the longest was the worst. The people were vile, the teachers didn't teach properly and I basically didn't learn anything the whole time I was there. Unfortunately, this girl in particular seemed to remember me very well.

"I haven't seen you in forever! School's been so much better without you, it's almost boring. There's no drama now everyone has a functional family." She did not just go there. My fists clenched but I managed to keep my smile that was gradually hurting my face.

"That's lovely. I had to end this rivting conversation but I really must be going."

"Who's in the car?" Oh for fucks sake.

"Um, he's my uh... Well it's... It's sort of... Not right..." My heart felt like it was going to fall out my ass when Manson started getting out of the car. Nononononono, Manson she doesn't like you, get back in the fucking car!

"Dixie, is everything alrigh-"

"Oh my fucking God, Satanist!" Belle screetched, pointing at Manson like he was a mutant.

"Why yes, dear child, I am a Satanist, would you like me to perform a ritual sacrifice for you?" He replied, unphased, smirking.

"Fucking freaks, no wonder you're with him, he's as messed up as you!" Before I could correct her assumption she ran away to her pink mini cooper. Of course.

"She thought we were together," Manson said, giving me a look.

"Oh my," I held my stomach and fake urgered and got into the car, praying to God I wasn't bright red like I thought I was.