Frightfully, there was so much blood and liquid metal, dancing out of Enis Jordan's body and onto the floor of the gymnasium, that it was gruesomely hard to handle my footwork, at first.
I was horribly sick after seeing it, so I strenuously decided upon picking up my feet and walking towards the bathroom by the gymnasium. I stole the corner toilet and popped open the lid upon it while I was in the bathroom.
I began to hunch over it, and then I coughed up both of my lungs before upchucking up entire stomach. I threw up every sip of coffee that I had this morning, but I have finally woken up to this new life of sobriety.
Right now, I'm arriving at my locker which is on the third floor of the high school. This red, cherry gum has given me a hard sour flavor, but that's only because of the hazelnut coffee that I just fucking left in the toilet bowl behind me.
This whole school is going to know about Enis Jordan by the end of the day. This short story of Mr. Harbor's gym class will probably make the news, as well. They seriously have to throw this kid some money.
Who the hell is Enis Jordan?
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Enis Jordan is the kid in all black, who likes metal music and screaming horny at the top of his lungs. This black bird has three older brothers, who like to drink, but they don't do shots of Carver.
I told Machine about Enis Jordan and his foot through a text message. I also texted my friends, Eddy Baker, Paul Hoover, and a few others, as well. They all have to know about the bad side of Mr. Harbor.
Poor Enis is probably gazing at his life through a foggy mirror, right now, dazed and confused about his future existence. Its so sad, knowing that Mr. Harbor could've just sat him on the sidelines, instead.
"Ayo, Wally!"
My good friend, Paul Hoover, is walking down the hallway, and he's hugging the straps of his backpack. He's wearing a big smile on his face to let everyone know that he's still high on this devilish Friday morning.
"Yo, yo, yo!" I played with his high. "Get your salty ass to class!"
Hoover is flying higher than a kite, right now, but as for me, I'm sobered up. He came up to me, laughing and causing a big scene in the empty hallway until I said something about Enis Jordan and his foot.
He labeled the accident as 'Enis Jordan and His Glass Slipper', which I thought to be very clever. My stoned friend began getting pumped up in a fit of excitement which made me feel kind of sick inside. He's not the type of guy to care about the less fortunate.
"No way!" Paul was sneaking off into the smoke right now.
"Did you take a picture of him?"
"No," I told him. "I went to the bathroom and spit up."
Hoover continued laughing which woke up the silence of the entire hallway. He smacked the books out of my hands, and they hit the floor before scattering at my feet. I would kill this asshole if he wasn't so close to Machine.
Hoover wouldn't talk to me if it wasn't for Machine. Ideally, not many people would. Everyone knows who I am because of Machine, and everyone knows Machine for the sackcloth bags of money that his dad takes home, after each flight as a pilot.
Hoover's tiny family is broken up like mine. Hoover has a stepfather, who he calls Patrick, who is tangled up within a bundle of cords and nothing like a lawyer should be. Unlike Bob, Patrick is able to sign his name as a free agent.
Bob has a shadowy past, so I'm not so sure about his work, even though, I live with him under the same roof.
Bang! Bang!
My dad is jobless, so he doesn't work. I tap his shoulder, every once in awhile, but the battery pack within him is dead or dying off.
System failure.
My fellow potheads believe that my old dad is lazy. My old man was a truck driver, who slept in the bed of his truck, for many years. That happened during the time before he met a girl, who I know at home by the name of Suzy B. Shores.
"Love you." I tell my mother before she leaves.
If it wasn't for that, I seriously must've been lying to my dad like crazy, all of these years.
"I love you, too." I always say to him, softly.
My friends are all bad kids, who say that my dad is worthless. None of them feel the same way that he does, and furthermore, none of them know about the pious man that he truly is.
Paul Hoover is a bad kid, who thinks everyone is humorous. His stepfather, Patrick, is an arrogant pile of trash, even before he bids his law degree. This city lawyer is bound to defend you in the public square, but further below the surface, he still fucks Hoover's mom.
Bang! Bang!
Tossed up in indigo, I rarely see a touch of green because I never sail upon the green sea. They say that the water is warm, but these sirens will only tempt a true sailor. Looking into Medusa's eyes, I feel as if I am nothing more than a simple bust of stone.
Enliven me and lead us to justice, at last.
I must say, Shae Harbor is all that I aim for!
YOU ARE READING
Convincing Shae Harbor
Mystery / ThrillerI had to write this book, just so I could say that I wrote a book within my lifetime. This book is filled with vulgar language and grotesque imagery. Readers beware! This book is about a high school shooting which also depicts a young man's love for...
