Sometimes I just want to punch Cali in her stupid fucking face. There are quite a few things that make me want to punch Cali in her stupid fucking face. Want a rundown? Well, I’m gonna give you one.
So, after we got kicked out of the park (her fault, with the fucking bread), she got one of the guys to come over to us (the cute one, she said, though the other one was way hotter) and I started talking to the other one. He was lovely. Then, like, twenty minutes later, Cali and the guy come out of the van (fuck knows what they did, but he was wiping his hand on his jeans) and she pulls me in and starts it up. I can only hope she washed her hands too.
But what really gets me, more than the fact that she ruined my time with the guy, is that she refuses to even SPEAK to the boy she loves. She whores around, lending herself out for half an hour like she’s some commodity but she’s too afraid to even ask this guy out on a date. She’s known him, like, ten years and loved him for seven and a half (I don’t even know, it’s a long time) but she gets all nervous, and then probably fucks someone else to calm her down.
Not cool, Cali, not cool.
Also, she takes the piss out of me. A lot. Her English accent is just atrocious – she sounds South African, I’m not even kidding. It’s funny, I’ll admit, but we’ve got a long drive ahead of us. I’m not sure we’ll both make it to California alive.
But I digress. We’re on our way to Maine now, where she has the uncle. He rang earlier to say a package arrived for me from my mum, which is really fast I guess, but I’m not complaining. What I am complaining about is the fact that this bloke lives in Caribou. Which I swear is like a fucking reindeer or some shit? Basically, he lives on a farm in a field where NO-ONE ELSE LIVES and it’s right by Canada which is seven fucking hours away.
Also, it turns out there’s not a whole lot to do in Maine. It seems like there’s just a load of fucking parks and bays and islands and shit. We’re going to a lighthouse. Portland Head Light, it’s called, and it’s three hours from here, and I don’t know why we’re going. Hey ho. I was looking through a leaflet of attractions in Maine that Cali found, and got kinda excited about a trolley museum. Turns out American trolleys are not the same as English trolleys, and it’s far less interesting. Oh well. Bring on the lighthouse.
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Caligula and Caesar's American Adventure
Teen FictionJoin Cali and Cae as they explore the vast expanse of the Americas, and the lovely platonic-yet-slightly-lesbianic relationship they have with one another. Bands, books, ice cream, and confusing British terminology are all conversations on the table...
