just for funziesMature

unfinished

 

Why blue? It could have been a lovely brick house. Well it once was, but too long ago for relevant significance in her mind. It could have been a lovely brick house, but its respect as an expensive three floor (add an attic) place of residency depreciated with the seemingly unnecessary painting sky blue of the front door and widow shutters visible to passing pedestrians and posh suburban convertibles. The effort to make the house more cheerful resulted in the embarrassment of the pessimistic life form, (more commonly recognized as the youngest “repressed” teenage child), forced to resentfully call the place her home. Her shame was covered by the seldom trimmed and therefore outrageously overgrown tree that consumed the front yard. Before allowing company she always warned “ We live like poor people in an expensive house.” Of course she referred to the cleanliness of the indoors being as well kept as the excess branches of said, “overgrown tree.” The need for this warning was rare however because company brought into the household by her own free will was scarce. Matter of face, she avoided the place herself as much as possible. After fifteen years of being fed and passing out in a crumb-filled bed there, she assumed the place must be home, of course, it didn't feel like it. It seemed, as large as the house was, she didn't quite fit.
She couldn't escape it. God. Damn. There it was. Slamming her shame behind her she launched her, oh must have been nearly, forty pound at the dark blue carpeting; convenient for covering childhood puke stains, but not nearly as classy as the polished hardwood covering the neighbors floors. They had a new wooden door with detailed glass windows too. How charmingly posh. No wonder the brat living their turned middle school into three years of tears and torture.
'No, no, it wasn't the house it was the turtle necks.'
Quickly now, with no hello, she climbs the blues stairs toward her cave. God it was like a plague crawling all over their floors.
'Maybe my parents wanted to live at sea'
She was always entertained by her not so wise cracks concerning her parents taste level. Never funny, but always amusing contained in the absence of her mind.
There it was. Could it possibly be more tweaking to the nerves? Her hothead jumped from a simmered one to a boiling ten at the sound of it. Didn't the woman realize she was in hiding? Her room meant relaxation. It was her secluded space. The carpet was still that nasty shade, but the walls screamed green and the punk posters countered the shitty vibes attempting to sneak through the cracks of the always closed off portals to her dimension.
'Make it stop. Make it stop.'......'Make it stop? God dammit.'
She hit ten.
“WHAT!”
The nagging wouldn't cease. No reason to expect it to, it never did, but she held dearly to sweet hope. When would she learn to just say hello before she escaped? No matter how smooth she was about her entry the woman would always recognize her presence and persistently call her name until she was forced to mope down the stairs and face her doom.
She often wondered why the woman wasted her breath repeating the same, “How hard is it to let us know your here?...Join the family...What happened to your math homework?”, speech at each ten minute meeting the poor soul was forced to endure daily. The woman was in every possible literal sense of the term, a broken record. Her conversation skills included prodding, nagging, and bitching, usually in question form. Mind, her mother did keep her in the manner she was accustomed to with a job that required exactly those conversation qualifications. She wasn't quite sure what exactly it was that her mother did, but she new it involved long hours of bitching on the phone. As long as it kept that woman's mouth occupied and brought in cash, she didn't care.

She believed the reason her mother questioned was because she really just didn't understand. She didn't understand the concept of not turning in a homework assignment, because she didn't neglect to turn a single one in her entire high school career. To her, it just seemed so simple. Why couldn't her daughter just..do it! Or at least do something. Join the family, watch a movie with them, help out around the house..........

The End

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