Hey guys! I took forever—I know. But please don’t give up on this book. It’s sad to see the amount of votes and comments I had before decrease through the chapters.
I’m trying, I really am, but my life is in chaos at the moment. P.S. I don’t mind threatening ‘update NOW’ comments on my message board. They actually motivate me :D
The cosmic forces must want me to update because I have the sudden splurge to write and I don’t want to lose it. (I think the cause of it was the Juicy Fruit commercial I just watched; when they’re singing on the rollercoaster.)
Take a sniff, pop it out! Take it out, then put it in your mouth! Juicy Fruit, is gonna move ya! Juicy Fruit—You get what I’m saying.
Don't know what a BeaverTail is? Picture to the right, yo!!>>>>> Chapter isn't edited. WARNING YOU NOW!
Anyways, then Satan said, let there be . . .
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Chapter 18: BeaverTails
Rapid bullets fired, and the deafening sound of shattering glass nearly made me piss my pants. Someone muffled a ‘you can look’ and I think it was Driz, but I was a tad shaken by the gun noises.
One weapon I can handle, but two at the same time was too much. “Ly-a,” repeated Driz. She removed my hands from my ears and I slowly opened my eyes.
A single bottle was left standing for both boys, their guns now empty. They stood, awkwardly aware of their losses and handed the man their guns.
“At least you guys tried,” said Driz, flashing a sincere smile.
“Tried?!” I blurted. Jeff and Clint looked taken aback by my sudden outburst, but I couldn’t help it. How hard was it to shoot down ten bloody bottles?! Besides, I could feel the unicorn’s eyes burning into the back of my head and I wasn’t about to walk away from the world’s best carnival prize.
I marched up to Jeff, and opened my hand for five bucks. He mutely fished out a bill from his pocket, his shame silencing him.
“You said you sucked at carnival games,” snorted Clint.
Snatching the cash, I mustered an icy glare in Clint’s direction and threw down the money on the table. “I do suck at carnival games,” I admitted. The man handed me the gun. “But when compared to your sucky ass skills, mine probably won’t look as bad.”
“Ly-a,” Jeff warned. “If two grown men can’t even shoot ten bottles, what makes you think you can shoot them all?”
“It’s harder than you think,” Clint agreed.
“Extremely hard,” Jeff added with a nod.
*One minute later*
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Living Short in Bel Air (Completed 2013)
SpiritualAs an old dead guy once said, "And though she be but little, she is fierce." A self motivating journey dedicated to the short girls, tomboys, weirdos, and outcasts, where a lonely, girl in Bel Air shows the society that big things come in small pack...
