Why, hello, lovely people of America! (Or, like, other parts of the world. Wherever you . . . you know, reside.) Soooo, I know Kalee's been posting a bunch of stuff and I haven't, and I apologize for that (whoops--this is JC, BTW), but there's been a bunch of school . . . stuff . . . plus some other obligations of mine . . . Aaaaanyways, Kalee's a bully (I'm kidding), so she's making me post a little of this story that I've been working on (okay, so, she didn't really make me . . . it was more of a persuading kind of thing). This story is still in progress (I've barely started), so the title could change, but for now, I'm calling it L'Âme (though it could very possibly change because now it looks like my story's called Lame. Oh, well. As I said, it's in progress, lol).
So tell me what you think--comment, or email us at firstname.lastname@example.org. :) :) Okay. I've been talking your ear off. So . . . here goes, I guess. Please enjoy!
One day, I’ll own all of you idiots.
I bite my lip to keep from laughing at the thoughts coming from this kid’s mind. He’s a small guy, wearing thick glasses and suspenders, of all things. Plaid shirt tucked into his khakis, socks hiding beneath a pair of men’s sandals--the whole shebang. He’s like the poster boy for those poorly-portrayed nerds you'd see on TV.
I’ll hand out your measly paychecks and make you bring me coffee three times a day.
I sneak a peek at him. His brow is furrowed, and he’s gripping his pencil, knuckles white with tension. And when the recession hits, you’ll be the first people I lay off. Even without a recession--I might just fire you just for the fun of it.
Oh, boy. This guy seriously needs a lesson in Vengeance Fantasies 101. News flash--making people buy you coffee isn’t exactly torture. If you’re going to daydream about all the awful things that should happen to someone, at least make it something painful. I mean, honestly.
My gaze snaps to Mr. Burke, who’s staring at me through his wire-rimmed glasses. I make my eyes big and round. “Yes, Mr. Burke?” Innocence bleeds through every syllable, and I swear I see him wince.
“I was wondering if you had any input on Stalin’s reign in the 1900s.” Hopefully, she has something useful to say about that tyrant. Though I doubt it. I’m starting to think that none of these nimrods are worth my time.
I bite my lip again. “Oh. He was . . . a tyrant, sir.” Mr. Burke raises a brow expectantly, obviously waiting for a little more detail. Fortunately, the bell rings, signaling the end of the last period of the day. I jump up, slinging my brown messenger bag over my head and stuffing my notebook and pens inside.
“I look forward to hearing more about that tomorrow, Miss Fortier,” Mr. Burke tells me as people filter out of the classroom.
“Not as much as I look forward to telling you about it, Mr. B.” I wave to him, and he just shakes his head.
Okay, that's it for now! Please send us some feedback and/or a message begging Kalee to post some of her story, because she's an awesome writer, AND HER GIFT NEEDS TO BE SHARED WITH THE WORLD. I'm debating whether or not to put the whole first chapter up . . . idk. Again, comment or email email@example.com . . . yep, that's it! Thanks for reading, guys! As a reward, please enjoy this picture of a potato.
- JC <3