Nightmares Of Reoccurrence

Whats So Great About It?

Hey there. I'm Valerie, well, I guess I'm suppose to be Valerie. I don't really know who I'm suppose to be. I don't really know why I'm still here or why I don't just get up and leave. I don't know why I'm stuck HERE with a family I hardly even know. I guess time will tell. By the way, I'm Valerie... Did I already say that? Oh, well if I did, let's say I didn't and go on with our lives m'kay? I'm 13 and I get A's in all my classes! Well, one class, actually... I don't think Sarcasm is a class. But hey if it was, I'll be getting an A for sure! Anyways, where was I? Oh right! The depressing part!

I was pulled away from my family (mentally speaking) around the age of 12 ...and 1/2. I don't care much about my father. In fact, it was like he wasn't even there. The only time I ever really noticed him was when he was beating the shit out of me! Like a little piñata full of meat. Yummy, succulent, juicy meat. (If you couldn't tell, I love meat.) If I could make a never-rotting meat castle and village, I would love to be the queen of that kingdom. Valerie the Queen of Bacon has a nice ring to.

Well to get back on track, I really don't have a "family", more like parental units...and a brother. Although, I do some what care about my mother parental, in fact, when she's not on the damn laptop, she actually pays attention and listens to me. Nonetheless, shes mainly there just to give me rations, and to feed off of her "hard-earned" money. I helped her get most of it, but does she notice? No, of course not. Alas, she's still my mother, and between you and me... I would pick her over Piñata Joe any day.

Enough about me, tell me about you?

What's wrong, cat got your tongue?

OH! That's right, you are just a figment of imagination. You're just there to see me screw up, or just to be completely stupid... Or just to see me poo. Haha... I'm crazy aren't I?

Geez I get off topic a lot. Well, to start off, I'm kind of in a bit of trouble but, nothing duct tape can't fix! I broke my brothers motorcycle today. Do not ask how, because that is not important. Lets just say, motorcycles do not make good karate dummies. Anyways, if he sees it broken, I'm dead. Now, does this giant metal piece go in the front or the back? Oh well, I'm pretty sure It doesn't matter.

I put on the shiny do hickey and back up to admire my work. "Well, looks good to me!"

"Valarie, what the hell are you doing near my bike?"

A tall boy, comes out the front door. I'm guessing he heard all the noise I was making.His name is Doug and he is the kind of people you try to stay from. He was about 19, wore ripped jeans, and a "Fuck School. Do Trees" T-shirt. He didn't do drugs, but he does like his trees. To complete the whole outfit, he has black hair with bangs that cover 90 percent of his face and some 30 year old vans. Guess what ladies! He's single!

He starts walking towards me, fists clenched and dried drool paved across his cheek.

Shit! Play it cool Valerie, you got this girl! You know what to say to get him off my case. He's you're brother. You're smarter than him. You can think of something... I know what to say.

"Nothing."

Oh yeah. Nailed it.

"Whatcha mean nothing? You better have not been touching it. I dont want your disgustingness to rub off on the bike. Do you know what bike this is?", Doug said while stroking the handlebars with his finger.

"One that you found at Good Ol' Junk junkyard? What's so great about it?"

"Yes. But that isn't the point! This an authentic 1980 Riley Reffer Custom. Its the first and only one he ever made!" He began drool a bit more from the other side of his mouth. Oh how foul.

"Ah, looks more like junk to me. No wonder her only made one." I laughed a bit under my breath. "Does it even turn on? I've never seen you ride it."

"Oh, it does more than turn on. Watch."

He hops onto the bike, and sticks the key into the ignition. With a slight twist of the key, the large beast turns on with a loud roar! Rrrrrummm!

He pushes the bike and revs up. He's out of the drive way and in the street. He notices two highschool girls walking along the side walk. He gives a wink at both of them. I could smell their throw up in there mouth.

Doug decides he wants to rev up really fast past them, so with that on his mind, he pulls back a bit and revs up. Hes speeding down the street, going as fast as the poor bike could go. Next thing you know, the duct tape gives out, and so does his rear wheel. He begins to spin out only with one wheel on the ground and the other in the neighbors yard. Sparks start flying, and a loud screech is heard from the metal meeting asphalt. After sliding for about 200 feet, the bike flips and throws my pathetic brother up in the air and in front of those girls. They just laughed as they continued walking, and one most likely posting the accident on LubTube or Picagram.

The bike continues to lay still in the middle of the street. The road is filled with motorcycle parts and singed duct tape. Hm, I think im beginning to see the beauty in this piece of machinery. It caused my brother pain emotionally and physically.

"Oh, I'm amused! Can I see that trick one more time? Next time, with you falling a little bit harder?"

"Shut up Val ", he says as he starts to limp home. "I just want go home. See ya, pipsqueak. Tell mom I was hit by a truck or something. She will kill me if she found out I rode the bike with out telling her."

"No promises!".