~Ours~

Music Of Fools

I laid my plans in this summer like a blueprint of some architects. A to-do-list for two months of liberty. Ha. My number one list would be watching the concert of Poison and Thorns, and it would be great. Two weeks from now, my number one list would be crashed out. The number two would be a date with my friends; we’ll have some shopping or window shopping. Ew. It won’t be nice if we just walk and talk and went home with nothing, just a leg cramp or swollen soles from walking a mile with a three-inch-high-heel just like Lady Gaga’s. Number three will be, of course, dating with guys and breaking up with them without any reasons. Let’s be practical. No women are a saint

I looked at our old TV, perceiving weather forecast. Rain in summer? Dear Allentown, why I live in this city? We’ll ask my stupid dad who knew nothing but bringing whores in our house. I wish he’ll get STD. Uhm, nah never mind. (God forbid.) A rain in summer is cool, I admit. A hot morning and cold nights for lovers.

Where were we? Oh one, two, three, four, eight… yes probably I got eight hot lovers in my senior years. Guess what? I busted them after taking what I wanted: money, fame, and lust. (Hmm, criss-cross lust.)

The other lists will just come into place, for now I’ll just prepare to answer my best friend’s call. Her name is Annie; she’s hot, rich, and rich. Never mind about her, if I’ll narrate her life you’ll get jealous and envied like what I experienced, even now.

The telephone rings.

“Jennifer,” dad shouted. I rolled my eyes.

“I know, I know. You don’t need to shout.”

I answered the phone.

“Hello, this is Jen---“

“Hi Jen, guess what?”

I smiled, “shopping?”

“Precisely. Outside the Subway, three sharp. Wear your best dress, and I’ll wear mine too. By the way, Christine and Samantha will join us. I invited them. The more the merrier.”

The more the scarier. Best dress? I got only one best dress. Do I need to buy one? Ugh. One of the reasons why I hate my friends: wasting money just to buy dress from Chanel, or Fendi.

“Okay, copied. Three sharp, Subway. Not inside just outside.”

Dad gave me a look. I know he’s happy. He can bring another whore. Ugh. I hate you. I raised my eyebrow.

“I know dad, you don’t need to give me a look and smile. Just don’t mess up with my room or I’ll kill your whore, slowly. Use your room, not mine. You can use that couch, if your room smelled prehistoric. Ugh! I hate talking to you like this; I’m like gran-gran.”

“Thanks,” he replied.

“You can go home late, it doesn’t matter,” he added.

I hurriedly went upstairs, seeking my only best dress. I’ve got two hours to prepare myself. I turned on the CD player and here comes Dion’s song: If you ask me to. Noticing the paper made me smile. Thank God I’m smart! I passed De Sales University. Dear Zeus, Jupiter, Hera, Aphrodite, Odin, Allah, Who-the-hell-are-you… thanks.

I got into Subway two seconds before three. Yippee! Oldies came and went inside the resto, and I felt like an attendant in McDonalds or Dunkin Donuts. Gah! I don’t like to wait too long.

Well, I’m glad some beggars, I mean a street singer soothing my temper. He got this old guitar, probably from garage sale, wearing black coat matched with his long hair and patches of hairs on his chin and cheeks. Just imagine the movie Moses. (Kidding!)