People only spoke about Enis Jordan and his foot. I should've skipped class with Machine after lunch, but that rat bastard left without me after school. He's hanging out with a cheerleader, Jocelyn Harris, all alone, and she isn't going back to Andy Fraiser.
This is going to be great!
My best buddy, Machine, has been with so many girlfriends since I've known him, but all of his relationships never last long. I'm at home, and I'm lying in bed, right now, wondering how my best friend, Machine, could ever ditch me for one of them.
I'm calling Paul Hoover to see what he's doing.
"Hello?" he questioned me.
"Yeah, is this Paul?" I joked.
Both of us began speaking in our funny voices. Everyone has a funny voice, but some people even have more than one. I could seriously just kill and bury this guy in my backyard, and nobody in this god-forsaken world would ever show up to this dog bone's comedy act.
Bang! Bang!
"Why not grow an asshole, Hoove?"
He grimaced on the other side of the phone, breathing heavily.
"Where is your ticket for the Oak & Birch parking lot, sir?"
He's rehearsing his lines in a deep, ushering voice and trying to screw with me. It was really funny after I did it for the first time, but now it's becoming annoying.
I spoke to the stranger. "Yeah, let's go."
Bang!
That damn Enis Jordan had to ruin the whole day. Somebody tell those rotten kids that I haven't seen a god damn thing!
My conversation with Hoover on the phone went on for about five more minutes, after the foreplay. I had to explain to him that my stepfather, Bob, wouldn't give me any money for tonight.
Although, I didn't even ask him.
"God damn it! I'm coming to pick you up." Hoover said before hanging up the phone.
In about a half an hour, the two of us, Hoover and I, were sitting in the parking lot behind the downtown restaurant called the Oak & Birch Bar & Grill.
You want to know what's truly smoking?
My buddy, Paul Hoover, took some of the good stuff that his brother gave to him, and now I'm higher than a muffin top. Pardon the bad language, but I seriously couldn't give a damn about anyone's feelings, right now. Fuck, I love marijuana.
He's playing Murmur Z on his sound system, and this song is 'Like Fire & Smoke'. I don't know what kind of car he has because I never like to bring up cars with him. Plus, I have to pay him back, so that's the only reason as to why we're not talking.
Holy hell, this stuff is really good shit. I'm so tired and sick of Hoover being an asshole whenever the two of us are out driving with Machine, but tonight, he's really pulling through for me.
It's not fair that this rarely happens! Both of us know that he owes me a lot more than I owe him. That's because I smoke him up, all of the time, using my stepdad's charity money.
"Who are these bitches?" he threw out the silence.
These women outside of this restaurant are bound to think that the two of us are a pair of homosexuals having a game of oral sex in this car's parking lot.
"They probably think we're faggots." I told him as a joke.
After that, Hoover began telling me about his soon to be occupation. Paul's older brother buys a lot of marijuana from this guy that he used to smoke with in college. They're a couple of older gentleman that do the same thing as us.
My friend is considering dishing out the pot leafs, himself. Possibly, I can fathom this inner spark within me, and just let him accomplish whatever he needs to accomplish.
Paul is not stepping up to this lovesick hobby that I have for Shae Harbor. He doesn't even know that Shae Harbor is mine, yet. I haven't told a single person upon this entire planet, but this asshole, Paul Hoover, keeps on raising his fucking fists.
Surely, I can't stop him, either.
We pass a glass bowl, back and forth, a few more times, before Hoover grows bored of smoking in his car. I hate this kind of shit, each time that he brings me back home, too soon. My stepfather, Bob Rudolph, gets pissed off at me if he smells it on my clothes.
Beyond the front door of my home, there is no stopping that man from dragging you out back with him, screaming. Oh well, I locked the door, anyways.
"Ahh!"
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...
