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Tuesday, 12 July 2011

-Amanda- Strange What You Remember

So today's August's birthday. Eighteen. Fuck, he shouldn't be here. None of them should be here. They should be off having fucking normal lives with normal problems.

Instead, they get this. This fucking bullshit with Him, stuck cooped up with those of us cold-hearted and sneaky enough to last as long as we have in this goddamn housing counting down to the fucking inevitable. They're just fucking kids for christ's sake.

I remember when I turned eighteen. Been running for nearly two fucking years. I spent my eighteenth birthday huddled on a park bench in some city I don't even remember the name of. Already a chain smoker, already a caffeine addict of the highest order, already drinking enough to make me look like Spencer's goddamn apprentice. Thank fucking god only two of those stuck.

It was cold, the bad kind of cold. Could barely breathe and what I could breathe cut my throat up like fucking glass. My last cig trembled between my fingers and I just couldn't stop shaking. Some people actually stopped to ask if I was alright. I fucking wasn't, but what could I say? 'Some tall guy in a suit with tentacles want to kill me'? Hell no. I wasn't risking their fucking lives with that bullshit. Bad enough they even came up to me. That's enough sometimes

Some lady with the kindest fucking eyes and red hair pressed a five into my hand. She couldn't have known it was my birthday but it was the nicest present I could've gotten.

So, August? Enjoy your fucking birthday. We have too few anyway.
Posted by That Crazy Crow Chick at 18:11
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16 comments:

  1. Spencer12 July 2011 at 18:41

    Well then, I'm glad our merry band of misfits eventually found one another, eh? Funny. Never really cared about birthdays when I was a kid. Didn't see a use of 'em. Guess I started to understand when Slender(no)face showed up.

    Huh. In hindsight, strange what you remember.

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  2. Todd12 July 2011 at 20:08

    This comment has been removed by the author.

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  3. Todd12 July 2011 at 20:15

    Huh. It's like an "Our Past Sucks" club. I guess that's why we seem to function so well.

    (We don't quite get along, but I would personally say we function. From my perspective.)

    If I had been around to help, you wouldn't have been on the street.

    But then we might not have ended up here. And how much fun would that be?

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  4. Steele12 July 2011 at 23:55

    Oh no, my past was awesome... The open road, nothing but the food in my stomach and the blisters on my feet for company...So glad I decided 'fuck it, if I'm going to die, I'm going to die happy' and returned to the cities.

    'Course, the whole 'happy' part of the equation kind of went out the window when I met Amanda, but at least I'm getting paid now, and money IS the ultimate form of happiness.

    ...On an unrelated note, does anyone know where we keep lead pencils in this house? I need to make August a birthday present.

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  5. Doc13 July 2011 at 07:57

    My past isn't so bad. Well, before I got into this business, everything was going great. Even with Him peering over my shoulder, I was launching myself into a promising career. I had an amazing boyfriend...hell, we'd just started talking about marriage before I...

    Nevermind, no need to get depressing. This is one of the few happy occasions we get to enjoy around this place. Steele, check around the kitchen, I might've left a pencil or two in there when I was writing down everyone's vitals. If not, I have lots down here, just swing by and I'll get you some. I think I'll do a little something for August's birthday too. The events of the 8th gave me a lot to add to my research, but...ah, hell, I need a break.

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  6. Todd13 July 2011 at 17:32

    Huh. Go figure. My attempt to be comforting actually makes me look like a douche. WAY TO GO, ME.

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  7. Steele13 July 2011 at 21:27

    Oh, /honey/. Last time I tried to help out, I lost a hand.

    Speaking of which, Doc: I think you ought to take a look at this. It is starting to smell pretty darn groovy.

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  8. Doc13 July 2011 at 21:34

    Are we talking, day-old roadkill groovy, or missing person fished out of a lake in the middle of summer groovy?

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  9. Steele13 July 2011 at 21:47

    We're talking 'little old lady who hasn't collected her mail in three months before the neighbours decide to check up on her' groovy.

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  10. Doc13 July 2011 at 21:50

    ...oh shit. Get your ass down here, right now. I'm positive you need antibiotics at this point, if it's...ugh. Fucking hell.

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  11. Steele13 July 2011 at 21:52

    yes m'aa'm. don't worry about anaesthetics i took care of taht'

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  12. Doc13 July 2011 at 21:57

    Yes, you're usually good for that. I'm glad you let me know about this, but for next time, please speak up about it before it gets to the dead grandma phase. I'm beginning to wonder how serious you are about keeping this hand.

    I'll still do my best to help you save it, but you need to keep a better eye on it. Just a little.

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  13. Steele13 July 2011 at 22:03

    can i keep it?? pleeeease, i''l clean up after it, make sure it dosnt get into trouble, take it for walkies and everything

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  14. Doc13 July 2011 at 22:14

    You can keep it, but you need to look after its needs a bit more. Or else you'll be saying...chop! Chop! Doc's silver scalpel came down upon his hand.

    Get off the computer and get down here, everything's ready.

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  15. Steele13 July 2011 at 22:17

    sure ringo, i'll just go ahead and join you in your mad science lab

    i'll be right there

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  16. Spencer14 July 2011 at 17:29

    Is it crazy that I start to panic every time someone goes all lowercase?
    ...Probably not.

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