Stained

I Can Handle Small Talk, With My Dog

I was running down the dark ally behind the old apartment building. There was screaming. They were after me. The cops. The dogs. I didn't know what to do so I turned.

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"Come on Lexi we're gonna be late!" It was Brianna my little sister she was always in a hurry to go to school. While I, on the other hand, wasn't.

Grabbing my army green backpack and a hair pony, I sprinted down the stairs to see my bubbly little sister who just couldn't wait to go to school.

'It only lasts so long honey' I thought. But as most people have probably experienced, you say a word to hurt their feelings in any way, you're the bad one. Grounded, restricted, and/or a punishment. But hey, that's life with siblings.

"Hold your horses would ya?" I snapped. I can only handle her eight year old voice for so long before it get really annoying. My record so far is five minutes. And that was when she went through her shy stage. At six years of age, she was clinging to moms legs, refusing to let go and wouldn't talk to anyone but her mother.

One last look in the full length mirror on the puzzle closet door, I whipped my pony tail over my shoulder and stormed out the door with Brianna hot on my heals. I know what you're thinking, what a major bitch. Yeah, no. I'm not always this way only when I live in a crappy run down apartment In a run down subdivision in a tourist attracted town.

So, in reality, yeah I'm always like this. Maybe 4% of the time I can handle small talk. With my dog.

Walking through the metal gates of our lovely, dying, brown yard, I made a sharp left down the beat up, crumbling cement side walk on my way to hell or like most people call it. School.