Infomercials

Luckily when I entered the front door the room was all put back together. My torn notebook pages were stacked neatly on the coffee table; the pillows and blankets were all fixed; the movies put away and all.  

Unluckily, I could hear laughter. And talking. Not a good sign. I rushed up the stairs to put on something presentable. Apparently, my mom had house guests before being back for a full freaking day. 

Welcome home. 

On my way up the stairs, I peeked at the dining room table. There was my mother, leaning back and laughing in all her successful business woman glory, a hefty man and a guy that was probably his son. Hmm, a son. 

I rushed to put on a pretty yellow sun dress and change my hair. I also worked to cover the horrid bruise from … ya know … that person. Whom I had sex with on the floor where our frequent house guests walk upon. Whoa. That’s not good. Don’t think about that today. 

Its time to put on a smile for mommy. I sighed, finally deciding that I was gorgeous enough and strolled slowly down the steps and into the dining room. The son was already drooling. 

“Oh Al, dear. So great to see you. Mr. Mason, this is my wonderful daughter Allie.” My mother gushed, smiling wide at me. “Al, this is Mr. Mason and his son,” you guessed it right you stud you, “Shane. Come and join us.” 

I smiled and took a seat across from drooling Shane and Mr. HEFTY HEFTY HEFTY. Quick and new nickname. I’m good on my feet. Oh, those damned infomercials.

The End

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