Merrill Damian Ramirez is a sixteen-year-old teen who is spending his suspension smoking with his "friend". Nothing too special until a yellow "dog" is being chased by two huge men with tiny dogs on baby hammocks. Instead of minding his business, Me...
The day after the Meat Sweats fiasco I was chilling in my place. You must be wondering where my crib is. I don't want to brag but I live in one of those ritziest mansions money could buy. My place is in the corner of Manhattan next to the Hudson River; a great view to see New Jersey, especially during a sunset on the terrace. My mansion is a seven-floored townhouse mansion. It was duked with eight bedrooms, eight bathrooms, two half baths, three kitchens, six fireplaces, a big ass basement with and an elevator; some of those bedrooms became my training rooms. Only three bedrooms are vacant: my room, my parents' room, and a spare room for guests. The staff comes and goes as they please; they come, do their jobs, and leave.
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(this picture does not belong to me or the setting. this is the place I imagined Merrill to live in. I do not own this place nor claimed property to it)
Yeah, I got maids and butlers, but I barely talk to them. I don't acknowledge them, and they don't acknowledge me. They get paid regardless. I don't know any of their names, except Lucia (I prefer to call her Lucy).
She was with Mom when she (mom) was a little girl. Lucy is like my grandmother without the bloodline. Lucy comes over in the morning, does her daily housekeeping duties, and leaves after a long day (leaves at 7 or 8 pm). I told her she was welcome to stay in the guest room so she wouldn't hurt her feet, hell, I even offered her a drive, but the little woman is as stubborn as a horse.
So, my morning turned out to be as ordinary as before. I woke up with my hair as messy as a mophead wearing my gray tank top and black shorts. Yeah, the staff isn't shocked about the limbs. I sluggishly walked to the kitchen from the bottom floor not bothering to brush my teeth. All I wanted was my nice cup of coffee. There's a coffee maker my dad bought with a timer. Every night, either Lucy or I, put in coffee grounds in the machine. So as soon as the timer kicks in the machine makes my coffee. There I was thinking I'll get myself a nice early morning coffee after the shit I went through last night. I could enjoy my day. Training regime for two, probably three hours. Read a good book on the terrace. To top off my evening, a good ol' classic horror flick. My mind was reeling to Nightmare on Elm Street.
I walked into the kitchen. My eyes filled with eye crusts. I expected Lucy to serve me coffee. "Here's your coffee. Black like your soul." That's not Lucy. I blinked away the sleepiness. I saw a certain turtle smiling a bright grin. I could've sworn I saw a rainbow and a unicorn dancing over his head. Sparkles fly over to my gloomy cloud.
I grabbed my cup, which was a chibi grim reaper drinking his cup of coffee and too exhausted to care. "Thanks for the coffee." I hobbled out of the kitchen hunched over like the hunchback of Notre Dame without his caffeine. I took one sip the hot liquid touched my lip until I realized I had an uninvited guest. I rushed back to the kitchen. "What the fuck are you doing in MY house?"
Leo spun around in the kitchen and headed upstairs passing the gym. I followed him – my drink left on the kitchen counter – as the curious turtle made his way to the library. "You call this a house? This is a palace! April said you were rich, but she never mentioned you were rollin' in it!" he managed to get in the living room.
