Tales of A Famous Teenager

Infomercials and Pouts

Violet was a person who took certain things very seriously. When she was younger, and she had discovered that the tooth fairy was just his smelly father who sneaked up one dollar bills under her pillow when he came home late at night and drunk, she was disgusted and seriously pissed off. Ever since that moment, she had always thought and made sure that things were certain before she believed and hung up with the idea.

There were times in which she was good detecting lies and fakes, especially unnatural things; fluorescent lights, her mom's breasts, those waffles you put on the toaster...

Sadly, when it was about infomercials, her common sense would just disappear completely.

Twelve minutes after having ordered a pizza, she had shifted, now completely sprawled over the soft bed, with a pillow tucked over her chin, watching The Simpsons. In-between commercials, an infomercial about some kind of pills for older people disrupted her tranquility by saying something bad - she wasn't very sure what, she was very busy being alarmed - about being sitting down. Immediately, she had stood up, almost falling on her face.

Her choice, which seemed like a brilliant idea at the moment, had been to stay standing. Given she hadn't properly exercised since she was twelve years old, and her resistance was as weak as - well, something very weak, Violet's legs were burning and her heart beating fast after some minutes.

Bad thin her free will was also weak, because she wanted to do nothing but to throw herself at anywhere were she would lie horizontal. And she was almost about to do it when she remembered the reason she shouldn't.

"Oh, hell no, I won't." The memories of how bad it felt to stop smoking kicked in, making her realize that she had gone through a lot, and she would do this easily.

She sighed deeply, and nodded to herself. Maybe distracting herself would do, because it usually did. People always said Violet got carried away too easily, not being able to focus on one thing at the time. Most of the time music was what changed her mind about everything, but sadly, she didn't had any instruments with her. So she just stood awkwardly in the middle of the room and started to sing.

"Oh, baby,

keep the poetry,

keep the happiness

for yourself"

It was weird, and it wasn't smooth, and it wasn't working. Her legs keep aching, now about to give out. She started to pace, but then she stopped next to the window, realizing that walking would make it worse.

Violet leaned on the edge of the window, which offered the view to the expensive pool, the clear water seeing more strangely appealing at night. A couple of grown-up adults were hanging in the edge, talking and laughing. And then, it was the moment which saved the singer's legs, she saw the older lady treaded.

If she treaded it would be like laying down but at the same time she wouldn't really be laying down. So the blonde decided that that was it, she was going swimming.

~

When the employees had discovered that Violet Debris was at the phone, the arguing had started, everyone but Travis wanting to meet the younger girl in private, for more than noble reasons, he was sure. The blond man had already talked about the way he felt about the musician, and the cashier was showing an excess of interest in going.

Klaus kept claiming that he was a bigger fan, and Pixie kept screaming that she was sure Violet had already a very tired day, surely the last thing she wanted was a boy trying to get into her pants.

"Oh, so you are making all this fuss only to conform yourself with an autograph and a picture?" the boy said with a smug look, "Wouldn't you try anything on her?"

Pixie blushed and cocked an eyebrow, looking daring but at the same time embarrassed by the assumptions. Travis rolled his eyes, the conversation wasn't going anywhere. The order had been to domicile, and he was the only one who knew how the use the motorcycle. The other teenagers wouldn't possibly take the pizza to the Whitman Hotel, especially because walking wasn't an option, unless you wanted to lose all your valuable stuff.

Obviously, even if they never had to do anything, each of them had an assigned job. The pink-haired girl was in charge of the cashier and the phone, the blond cooked, and he was the delivery guy.

"Guys, you aren't going, neither of you," he said calmly.

"Says who? You?" Pixie now was looking straight-forward angry.

The boy sighed, "Me?" He placed a guilt hand on his chest, "The only one who knows how to drive the bike in which we are supposed to deliver? Yes"

After a whole lot of extra complains, Travis was finally able to leave the little local, placing the cardboard box in the special compartment and closing it. Putting on his helmet and quickly advancing into the pretty side of New York City, approaching the five-star hotel, trying to ignore the song that was stuck in his mind and the soft, slurred voice that sang it.

~

a picture of travis at the top.

i will upload if i see good results.

thanks