Update and Excerpts

Yesterday I sat on my couch for the vast majority of six hours doing Math homework.
I got up to shower and pop in some Disney movies, because there is no way you can get frustrated with math while you're watching happy Disney movies.
I did my hair in between math and starting my writing assignment.
After a little while, I left home and went to Mason's brothers' house. About an hour kater, we (Ryan, his sister Dani, Mason and I) started our trek to Oklahoma to go to Winstar. The ride there was quiet at first; we listened to loud music with the windows down and our hair blowing around wildly. After we stopped at a gas station/Subway, we were back on the road with the windows up while chatting. Eventually we saw the flashing HUGE sign for Winstar Casinos, and five minutes later we were IN THE PARKING LOT. I was excited and pumped; it was my first time there. Upon walking in we were met with large silver glittery Chinese dragons hanging from the ceiling and card table games. We walked through a forrest of slot machines until we picked a random row to play. It is here that I started gambling, and actually won a little before I lost a lot. We ended up splitting up for a bit, and Mason and I went in search of drinks and restrooms. There was a foyer area with plushy leather furniture that I wanted to sleep on (and some people were ACTUALLY sleeping on them), and upon entering the restroom I was met with a LARGE mirrior and a rather long hallway full of stalls. And there were free drink kiosks. And a bar, but I didn't get an alcoholic drink; I'm pretending alcohol doesn't exist for a little while. We got lost a few times, played some Black Jack, found a touch-screen map, and I jumped and touched a sign to prove that it wasn't a mirrage. We had a good time, and left around 10:30 or 11. The drive back was mellow, and Mason and I ended up falling asleep in the back seat with Dani and Ryan sat up front. Once we got back to the house, the ladies hauled ass inside to pee, and we ended up talking outside for an hour. Things got weird and creepy, and that's all I will say about that. Mason and I came back here after awhile, and stayed awake entirely too late.

My alarms woke us up at 7 this morning. He went to class, and I went to work. I worked from 9 a.m. to 5:30 p.m., and encountered some of the most frustrating "I want to save this whole entire dollar!" individuals. I said the F-word in front of my manager, which caused him to crack up. I also said "Slap a ho," which also made him laugh; I try not to cuss at work because it's unprofessional, but I was pretty riled up at that point. I got home around 5:45, ate some dinner, and finished one writing assignment. I have one more to go, and most likely something for PE left.

I am going to leave you with what I wrote for Creative Writing. The assignment was to write a story with "dialogue with tension." I had the perfect thing; it's another part of that novel I'm working on, and happens way before the other part I posted. Enjoy!


After a night of celebrating my birthday, and twenty minutes after my guests leave, my cell phone rings. I don’t recognize the number, but feel as though I should answer it.
Little do I know that I will hate myself for years after making this decision.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Hey, you.” she says.
“What do you want?” I ask, sweat pooling on my forehead.
“We need to talk.”
I hear the authority in her voice, and immediately hate it. “No, we don’t,” I reply with venom in my voice.
“Yes, we do,” she says, her voice softening.
“Why?” I ask, unwilling to make this easy on her.
“Just meet me at Sundae’s in thirty minutes, okay?” The authority is back.
“No,” I say, and hang up. I refuse to let her control me; she spent two years manipulating me, and I will not let her do it again.
My phone rings again, and I see the same number pop up. I sigh, hit the silent button and wait until the “missed call” icon appears before turning my phone off. I slide it into my pocket and walk upstairs to my bedroom, saying hello and thank you to my parents as I pass through our upstairs family room.
When I get to my room, I realize that I don’t want to be here. I want to be with my girlfriend, Rose, all of the time, every day. My heart feels like someone is squeezing it, and if I didn’t know any better I would think it is her.
I haven’t even sat on my bed to mope before the doorbell rings. I hear mom go downstairs and open it. Voices drift up the stairs as pleasantries are exchanged, then mom calls up to me. “Junior! You have a visitor!”
“I’ll be right down!” I shout. Before heading downstairs I check my hair, wiggle my eyebrows, and smile.
Yes, this ritual is weird, but it helps me feel like myself. More confident, so to speak.
When I walk into the living I am met with an odd sight. My parents are standing in the middle of the living room, facing the entry way where a slightly larger Lyla stands.
“What’s going on?” I ask, startling my mother.
“I’m pregnant,” Lyla says quickly, disallowing any pauses that should take place.
“Apparently, it’s yours,” my father says, shooting a look of disapproval in my direction.
“Can’t be,” I reply, crossing my arms in front of my chest.
“I’m three months along,” the Evil Bitch says. “There is no way it could be anyone else’s.”
“Unless Steven Evans got you pregnant, or that one guy at Morgan’s party, or Josh Manson, or…”
“Phillip,” my mom hisses.
“I’m just naming the possibilities, mom. I’m not the only guy she slept with during those two years.”
“Then why choose you?” she asks calmly, her eyes glued on Lyla.
“Phil, you are the guy I slept with closest to conception,” she says.
“That means nothing to me,” I say, turning around and walking away.
“Phil!” she shouts, and I stop. “This is your baby. No matter what you say or do, this is not going away.”
“And what were you expecting?” I yell, whirling around. “What, you want me to drop everything and be by your side?”
“Yeah, actually,” she says, which only pisses me off more. “I need you, and this baby needs you. I figured that you would want to help take care of it, ya know? I can’t imagine doing it by myself.”
I hear her words and see tears welling up in her eyes. The anger that I feel toward her melts when the guilt sets in. My parents watch me for a moment, waiting for me to react. Dad clears his throat. “Thank you, Lyla, for dropping by, but I think it’s time for you to leave.”
I expect to see disappointment on her face, and for a moment I do. After regaining her composure, she nods, thanks my father for inviting her in, and leaves.
An awkward pause ensues after she leaves. We all stand there, looking anywhere but at each other. Finally, mom breaks the silence. “Well,” she says hesitantly - quietly - “looks like we need to have a family meeting.”
Dad is unable to speak and nods in agreement as I continue to stare past my mother and at the front door.
“Phil,” she says, almost pleading for my attention.
My glance snaps to her face, and I see something that I’ve never seen before: anguish, worry, and sadness. “Yeah?” I ask, a lump rising in my throat.
“Is it yours?”
“I’m sure it isn’t,” I answer.
“Then why do you look so fearful?” she asks, walking closer and putting her hand on my face.
I flinch at the gesture, but she leaves her hand there.
“Because she’s three months along,” my dad answers, finally escaping from his thoughts. “He was still seeing her around that time.”
“The way I understand it, she was seeing several young men at that time” my mom says, shifting her gaze to my dad.
Her hand is still on my face.
“So what should I do?” I ask flatly.
“What you think is right,” my mom answers.
“Though we will disown you if you marry her,” dad chimes in.
“Phillip,” mom responds in a chiding tone. “This is no time for jokes.”
“Who says I’m joking?” he says. “This is obviously a trap set for him, by her. If he walks willingly into it, he is no son of ours.”
I sigh. “Can I go to my room now?”
“You may,” mom answers, finally removing her hand.
I can still feel the touch of her hand on my right cheek.
Turning, I force my body to make it’s way up the stairs and into my room. When I get there, I close my door, walk to my bed, pick up a pillow and…
I scream.



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