I don’t know about Cali, but I kinda liked the security bloke. He had soft hands, though admittedly he was a bit rough with them. Surprised Cali didn’t like him more, in that case. It’s a wonder she hasn’t fucked his brains out already.
Anyway, so we were just sitting in the van with all the leaflets spread out, trying to figure out where to go next and the uber bitch prissy mother knocked on the door. Cali opened it a bit hard, hit her in the face.
Her: “You broke my nose!” (It clearly wasn’t broken, dramatic bitch.)
Cali: “You’re trespassing. Private property. I suggest you leave.” It would have sounded scary, too, if she hadn’t been doing her goddamn English/South African accent.
Her (holding her hand over her perfect nose): “Where’s your little friend?”
I can’t help it if I’m short, ok? She didn’t have to rub it in, it’s not like Cali’s a giant, either. I was gonna get up front and have it out with her but Cali floored it and I saw her choking on the dust. Stupid woman deserves a mouthful of mud. Didn’t even see the goddamn kid standing behind her, oversensitive wankstain. I hope he grows up to be a right little chav, some thug who calls his mother by her first name because she hates it.
Cali’s about to let me take the wheel so I can surprise her. I offered her the choice of where to go but she just said “there’s nothing fun to do in Maine.” She may be right, but I feel bad for her uncle. I don’t know whether she’ll laugh or hit me when we get to Rockland, ‘cause we’re going to the lighthouse museum. I think we may need a little something to help us along the way.
YOU ARE READING
Caligula and Caesar's American Adventure
Dla nastolatkówJoin 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...
