September 3, 2013 at 10 AM, Sumas, Washington: Preston
"Oh, frick off!" I toss the extra box across the room and squint down at the sick cardboard cut on my thumb. This's complete crap. I hate moving. I never shoulda left Texas and I'm stupid and I know it and this's my punishment for being the dumbest human in the history of ever. And it burns. I fold up the box I came over here for and hold it in shape between my thighs so I can tape it. But my thumb's still bleeding. Why can't anything go right today? Or this year? Nothing's been goin' right since like November and now I hafta pay two months' rent out of pocket to break my lease and leave and I don't even get my security deposit back. And they had to send two repair guys out to fix the wall yesterday and they kept snooping around like they were looking for something to steal. And now everything smells like plaster and wet paint and debt and sadness. I look back down at my thumb and there's just a little bit of blood now. I suck it off and double tape the bottom of the box and walk over to start piling game cases and movies and recording software packages in the box.
It's not as big as I thought it was. Crap. When'd I get so much stuff?
Every time I move it's like my crap grows another twenty percent and it looks like I might need a bigger UHaul this time. I don't even wanna know how much that's gonna cost for a bigger truck, which'll need more gas to get the same distance, plus mileage and the little trailer thing for the dumb Prius I didn't even want. It cost like $3,200 the first time and I had a smaller truck and no trailer thing. At least I don't hafta pay to fly Dad anywhere this time - they don't even know I'm coming yet. I'm just gonna show up at Mom and Dad's house after I find a new apartment and get done unpacking. I feel dumb enough without having to feel bad about asking them to help me dig myself outta this gigantic ugly freakin' mess I made. And I thought getting rid of Hannah was gonna be the hard part.
I hope people were real into that whole SteemKar thing and tried to leave a whole buncha flamey comments on my vids or else I'm not gonna have enough money for a deposit on a new apartment or for Christmas presents for everyone. I'm so screwed right now. Why'd I hafta go and punch the freaking wall? What good'd it even do? I check my purply hand and it's still colors a hand shouldn't be but at least it moves and isn't swollen anymore. The scabs look like little baby dragon eggs and I should probably be more careful or I'll end up ripping my hand open again. I go over and grab another box to put the other third of plastic boxes in, and I guess the plastic dishes? Would those fit in here? I dunno, I'll find something. I think about it for a second and I guess I might as well go put some clothes in here. Clothes always fit everywhere.
I get down and start crawling around in the walk-in closet, feeling around in the little cubby holes under the shoe rack for goodies like a claw machine. Then the alarms go off again. I smack my head on the shelf and fall flat on my butt and little cartoon stars float all around me like I'm a Looney Tune. I can't even hear myself think over the dad gom fire alarms but I'm sure as frick not going back outside to stand for another hour while I wait for the fire department to get done laughing at us. I'm done singin' in the rain under the smelly dumpster awning like a circus monkey. I'm not gonna listen to their little cranky music box thing anymore - I'm just gonna sit here and pack and get the frick out before something's actually on fire. I bet the alarms wouldn't even go off if there was a real fire. Nothing works up here in hippie country.
Like two seconds later, the box's full.
When'd I get so many clothes? Where's this crap coming from?!?
"Ugh... I don't wanna hafta go out and buy more boxes..." These ones already cost me thirty bucks and I'm not even halfway done yet. I haven't packed up anything in my office and I just packed like... three shirts and a beach towel. Why do I even have a beach towel? This sucks and now my head hurts. I can't even record because the stupid fire alarms keep going off over and over again. I swear, I'm gonna go back to Texas and I'm never living anywhere else ever again. If I can't move in Dad's truck, I'm not moving.
YOU ARE READING
Video Love (The Poofless Epic)
Fanfiction'I'm not like that. I can't be like that. I can't like him. I don't like him. The Bible says it's wrong. He's my best friend. He'd understand.' Ever wanted to doubt your morality or sanity? This is a good place to start. Severe Trigger Warnings: vul...
