"This is sooooo boring...."
I groaned, my head thrown back. I was seated on the closed lid of a dumpster, the side on my elbows resting on one knee that was propped up. "Not if you actually do something," A figure right of me said, a toothy grin exposing the slit of a black in between his front teeth.
He didn't smile much in public because of it. One time someone called him Count Gapula; poor kid went home with a bloody nose. "Like what, chucking red bull cans at any passing schoolmates we see, or gawking at Linsay's facebook profile picture?" I retorted, throwing a stern look at him. He just kept smiling, ajusting his backwards Colt's cap atop his scruffy fringe and popping an orange pill-shaped Tic Tac into his mouth.
"Exactly," He dismissively muttered, leaning a bit farther back on the wall.
I shot my celedon green irises at the side of his dirt blond head before turning away, defeated. Suddenly, I felt a faint rattling, a piercing buzz darting through the air. I whipped my head around, searching for the source of disturbance. "God, Jazz, it's just my phone.." Mike chuckled, shooting his hand out to a batty blackberry in between us. "Oh...." I murmur. I've always been on edge like that, really. It's become natural for me.
He pressed a button, a picture of a bright, mango-colored blob with tentacles illuminating our dull faces, absorbed in the shadows. Yes, he does have a pet octopus. His name is Vlad.
The cephalopod had arrived in shipment the same day Mike had socked the dude. That was his punishment, havign to name his pet Vlad, after Dracula. It was pretty mean, if you ask me. He wanted to name it Swimmy. I still like Vlad more.I tossed my head back again, looking past the bumpy ridge of the convinient store wall the dumpster was resting on.
The navy azure sky had gleaming stars speckled across the surface, poking out like freckles, or maybe a paintrush with bristles covered in dots, chucked onto a deep blue canvas. Wow, I should be a poet. The moon was hidden behind a thin, transparent line of clouds. I heard a fainy wooshing from far away, then a grinding. "Dude, shut up, I think the fireworks are starting!" I ordered, ignoring his denial to talking in the first place. Then, something began slicing through the air, almost impossible to detect, as it was lacking puffs of smoke.
But it was not the explosive splatters of color we were waiting to festoon the sky. No, it was definitely not.
It was a fleet of stealth bombers.
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