Three Words Alone

number one

I'd like to start off with a proper introduction, my name is Violet Hartmen and I am an 17 year old teenager with little to no social skills. I blame this on a person I'd hate to ruin your day with, he who has traumatized myself many times as a child. This visible satan has done things along the lines of burning my toes and attempting to ship me off to Pakistan.

My brother goes by the name of Shawn Hartmen, even though his real name is Sheila. As you can tell, my parents had wanted another angel-like baby girl but instead had received the monstrosity that they call their son. They don't refer to him as a monstrosity, but we all know that he is one.

Throughout my life I've called him Sheila, one because it pisses him off which is absolutely hilarious, and two because Shawn sounds too civilized for the inhumane beast that is Sheila Hartmen.

My parents are also both workaholics and had previously admitted it themselves. Julie Hartmen (also known as my mother), works at a local law firm alongside my father Reginold Hartmen. My mom likes to call him Reggie because it pisses him off because he does not act as you would assume a Reginold would act.

In most ways my mom and I share many similarities, just as my father and brother share their own personal similarities as well. My mother and I are civilized, sarcastic, irritable people, while the other pair are mischievous, irritating, and as developed as third class cavemen. That might sound a tad bit harsh, but trust me it couldn't be anymore true.

Each morning had started the same for the past ten years, my under developed brother barging into my room and shouting as loudly as possible. He always shouted the same thing every morning, well, different variations of the same thing every morning. Usually it was along the lines of "Monkey-Ass or Ape-Arse," for some strange reason it always began with a type of primate and absolutely had to end with a variation of butt. Sometimes he even felt clever enough to try it in different languages.

Yet, this morning was different, the ignoramus had decided to sleep in since we had moved the night before. Had I forgotten to mention it? Well yes, my brother and I had been born in a hospital in Houston, Texas, but my parent's work had forced them and us to Orange County, California at the ages of 7.

Once again work had forced them to move, and since neither of us were legal adults yet were forced alongside with them. Forced back into the high school our elementary schools were supposed to feed into.

If I remembered correctly, I didn't have any close friends in the town. Everyone was either too irritating or ignorant for me to bother with them, and that was my perspective on people at the age of 7. Specifically, I didn't have anything against the town and I didn't mind moving back. But Sheila just had to throw a fit all the way back to Texas.

Back to the present, this is why he was all tuckered out and did not have enough energy to ram into my room and start spitting out primate jokes, and I literally mean spit out. Man, is that boy revolting.

Unlike him, I stood loyal to my everyday schedule. Get up, brush my hair, head down to eat cereal (which was specifically Honey Bunches of Wheat), and then head back upstairs to physically get ready for school.

The only difference on this certain day was that I actually had to put thought into what I wore, in California we were forced into a dress code. The dress code was supposed to reinforce unity within the students, but the only way it had unified us was in a joint hate for our school board.

Carefully I picked out a pair of denim jeans alongside a casual teeshirt, put together with a pair of white hightop converse and straightened hair. I yelled out a "Sheila!" to my brother and in return I was rewarded with a large string of profanities and a barking shriek from my mother towards my brother.