MISSPELED

Loser! I'm gonna throwie you up

— URGH! I'm getting old! — Dan
Complained, getting out of the stairs.
— Cut the crap another night you were writing on a outdoor.
— Well, exclusivity means more then my back health for sure, but that doesn't mean it does not charge the price, Pope.
— Why Pope? — Hedge asked, suddenly, shaking a can of yellow spray.
— That's a question we don't make. — Said Cash, looking to his reference sketch.
— Another street artists weird manner?
— No, not at all, i just don't like to talk about it.
— Got it.
— I know that we are in writers 101 here, but can you just not call us street artists? — And here we go.
— Really, Dan? We are gonna talk about it right now? — Asked Pope.
— I think we should.
— Oh god. — Said Cash.
— What's the difference?
— Street artist try do do their murals legally, we lost friends because grafitti is illegal. I don't like to be called Street artist, it's not what I do. I write, im a writer.
— I did not thought it was a thing.
— It's not for everybody. A lot of writers don't really care, others do.
— I just think it's best we know that those are different things.
— And i just think you should be doing something more productive than shake spray cans for me. — I intervened, putting a black spray in Hedge's hands. —  You have been sketching a lot. Do something on the wall.
— And if it looks like garbage?
— It wasn't you that did a couple of rats and said that you are a art prodigy?
— It's different. This shit can ruin the wall.
— More then the nazi shit? If it goes bad we redo it like the rest. You have the right to be a toy one time in life.
— Be what, bitch?
— Vai dar namoro! — Cash murmured. The other two started laughing.
— Toy, it's when you are a arrogant shitty beginner on writing. Come'on you don't need to try to be perfect, richkid. Let the goth mess get out of your chest. Express yourself!
— Kids are weird this days.
— No, kids are fine, Garter is the one that's weird. — They said, moving the spray can randomly, trying to decide what they should do.
— Changing the subject. — I started, getting closer to Pope. — How's the city? It's everything fine in there? — Pope knew what I was trying to ask. Mom. I wanted to know if my mom was in trouble again.
— It's fine. — He said, looking at me with that serious eyes. — Nothing that i can say much about. Had some protests in the avenue, some people got in jail, but nothing you need to worry about. They got released quite after on bail, so...
— Cool. That's cool.
— I don't know why you still care. — Said Dan pointing to the slurs on the wall. — Honestly, that people got in jail for saying shit like this.
— It's still my city.
— Why do i think that when you guys says city, you are not talking about a city?
— We are talking about his mom, Hedge.
— CASH!
— What?! — He defended himself. — They would've find out that your mom is Lucienne Sitmër.
— Your mom is Lucienne fucking Sitmër? — They asked in shock. — Man, how you still alive? Like she's a massive TERF.
— And i don't need to be remembered of that.
— Not wanting to stick my nose where I'm not supposed to, but HOW? How did YOU got out of that womb?
— She likes to say that i'm entirely my father's fault.
— Or Pope's fault. — Dan completed. Pope looked at him angry.
— Yeah, it's true. — Remembered Cash. — His attitude is from his father, his transness from Pope.
— You want me to drown you in this paint? — Asked Pope.
— It must've been horrible live with her.
— And it was. — Said Dan, before i could even open my mouth. — It got this kid huge problems with anger. That's why I don't understand why he cares so fucking much!
— It's still my mom! — I raged.
— See? Anger. — I huffed, irritated.
— Fuck off! I don't need to be asked why i fucking care! And when did this shit become a therapy session?! I don't need your opinions in my personal problems, okay?! And i don't need anyone talking about my feelings and about my life! So cut the crap and get back to work, please! — I asked, heading out. Needed air, desperately.
— Someone should follow him? — I heard Hedge murmuring.
— Let the kid have some space. I will help you with your piece.