I am in the hotel room unpacking my suitcase. My mom and grandparents insisted on sharing rooms to make it cheaper and to spend more time together. The thought automatically made me feel suffocated, so I insisted on getting my own room. My mom and grandparents are on the same floor as me, so I don't see a problem with it. However, I did get an earful from my mom and grandma.
I barely finished unpacking when I heard knocking. I opened the door begrudgingly and there was my mom with a big striped bag that's red and white that burns when you look at it. "We are heading to the beach. Grab your things and meet us in the lobby." "But mom." I whined and she gave me the stink eye. "Jeremy Donald O'Connor." I gulped. Full names are always bad.
An hour later, I'm sitting underneath an umbrella sitting on a towel dressed in trunks and a Hawaiian shirt. I'm pouting as I watch people walking and scattered all over the beach and ocean. I hissed when I stretched my legs too far and my feet touched the hot sand. "Damn it." I puffed in annoyance as I put my sandals back on for the umpteenth time. Okay, it's obvious that I don't go out much.
Only for killing, but I'm in my car for the most part. My annoyance turned into horror when my grandma approached me with a one-piece swimsuit on. It's blue with white polka dots. "Jeremy, honey. Come swim with your Grammy!" I scattered like a bug on a hot plate and ran for my life. "Jeremy! Jeremy O'Connor! Get your sorry butt back here this instant!" I kept running and decided I need to find someplace to hide. I spotted a bar and ran in.
YOU ARE READING
Thrifty
General FictionMy name is Jeremy O'Conner. I am twenty-two-years-old, have no self-esteem, no social life, no dating life, I hang out with my mom and grandparents a lot, and I'm a cashier by day, and a serial killer by night.
