November 16, 2010
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I watched her out of the corner of my eye. “Perfect boyfriend, perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect body, perfect money, perfect friends, perfect parents, perfect house, perfect car…perfect life.” I muttered under my breath grinding my teeth. I walked home…to my crappy one bathroom house, to my crappy getting a divorce parents, with my crappy hair, to my crappy room, and I plopped on my crappy bed letting my crappy life pour into it. I want her life. I grabbed the picture I secretly have of her and smiled, some might say a creepy smile. So I left my parents the note saying I ran away and why, but not everything. I was on my way.

“Hey Tiffany can I talk to you for a second.” I said excited. “Sure, I have time for a little charity.” She said confident; she won’t be so confident in a minute. I brought her to the supply closet, pulled out my gun and forced her to write a note to her parents stating she would be gone for three weeks; they didn’t care what she did. I tied her up and brought her to the woods, and let’s just say there’s one less bullet in my gun. Anyway, after that I went to see a plastic surgeon and three weeks later Tiffany returned, or did she.

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Holly-o said...
Nov. 20, 2010 at 1:32 pm
I like this, I think the length really works in it's favor. It's really to the point. I'd be interested in reading any other work you have done.
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