How to Be Cliche (A Novel)

(19) Wadda Ya Say?

Allo, my good readers! Please keep in mind that people from New Jersey DO NOT have this accent!!!! AT ALL! xD  (I'm from NJ.)

~~~~JUST VAIT, THIS VILL ALL MAKE SENSE, MY VRANDS~~~~~

REUPLOADED DUE TO THE FACT THAT I MADE A BOO BOO AND IT WAS RATED R. :)

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                  I was hurting everywhere.

                  "Fudge," I whispered painfully under my breath, yanking my combat boot out of a snake-like vine that had dug its teeth into the expensive leather of my boot, and, at the same time, plucking a thick thorn out of my arm. Who's bright idea was it to plant a thorn bush below my bedroom window, anyways? My parents both knew I loved to dolphin dive off of high places.

                  I turned my head upwards and stared up at my bedroom window, then lowered my gaze to the ground, measuring the jump I had landed.

                  Alright, so I was definitely not human. Then what the hell was I? I wasn't sure if I was a hunter anymore, my parents were still under investigation for that one. So far, they were nothing short of embarrassing, psychotic parents that just liked to sell vacuums to guests, strangle them, and throw boxes of condoms at them.

                  Limping significantly, I crept along our lawn to the sidewalk, looked left and right down the road, and stuck my thumb up in the air.

                  "Taxi?!" I yelled into the open air, pulling another thorn out of my body.

                  Girl, quit embarrassing me! It's ten at night and you're dressed as a dark prostitute. Why the hell are you hitch hiking when you can just borrow your dad's car? We don't even need the keys! Remember those car hijacking lessons we took with that hot guy from Australia?

                  "Colin? That was like, two years ago, Conscious. I'm so past hijacking cars for fun, after I accidently jacked a clown car, and spent the whole car ride riding with a bunch of fat clowns staring at me in the back. Talk about creepy. Plus, Colin was way too obsessed with himself to be attractive to me."  I started imagining the Aussie's long blonde hair and tattooed body. The way he would randomly pull out a mall mirror from his pocket in the middle of our hijacking class and check himself out.

                  "Ugh," I said, with my thumb still out. "There's only one thing to do I guess."

                  I took out my phone and found Gary's number. Moving my fingers rapidly along the screen of my iPhone, I texted him, S.O.S.!

                  Watching one of my neighbors across the street, who by the way, never even brought my family a fruit cake like the rest of the neighborhood -- leave their home, made me dive into the nearest bush to hide myself.

                  My phone buzzed in my hand. What? Who is this?

                  I frowned. Hadn't Gary, Ronny and I exchanged numbers? Why didn't you add me 2 your contacts?! Am I not important enough u??? Do I not compliment u enough??? Am I not pretty enough? I quickly realized how clingy that sounded and sent another text. Lol, got you. Jk.......

                  It took a few minutes for him to respond. Who the F is this?