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White-Splash Stencil Clash

Sweet baby, split-pea soup. croissant carbs, sliced tomato, onion crisp, and spinach greens- ooh avocado, please! look out the kitchen window, my dog's head in the compost pit! "LIBBBBBYY!" homemade soup on the back-burner dammit, scratch it, there ain't even any tomatos or onion to throw on this french bread! ohh, but mama, let's get real, since when was there ever any money for all these S.Pellegrinos!? I'm not complaining, and I know ain't isn't a word, but for Christ Sake! Being home is always wild. To sit by the fire, or to be a free-running child? I can't even make lunch without getting excited, and documenting my odd life. Could have made that Bumble-Bee- solid white albacore, or Skippy, squeeze that Skippy- it's the skippy you squeeze! Figured I'd go a little more home-made today. How long will it be 'till Mama starts asking for rent? All those Doctor bills, wild insurance- you slay me! Mental health, Hunterdon and Rutland, you really did me deep. And to keep paying those Doctor's with those degrees, sheesh! Rode my bike to the TDBank, to take out the last of what I had, for Mama. Talk about hell on two wheels! So now my choices can be narrowed- Do I hit the restaurants and do the night shifts, waitressing in that filthy grease? Do I get a portfolio and try to model, without Mama's approval? I sure do have one impressive resume, but this state wants to take my license away. My student loans are in over my head, here at least there's a futon and a warm bed. Chicago means an air mattress and Vegas screams something I can't really be too sure about. I guess it's true, home is where the heart is. Home is where my toes are warm and where my lunch date, Libby, never leaves my side. This U-turn situation, it's not so bad. Yeah, sure, I was supposed to be in Utah, canyoneering. And this New Year's, I would have, should be, could have been backpacking through Nepal- a dream. Sometime I just get a little sad. So I'll read some books, watch some films, give Libby her beef-flavored pain-killer pills, and pray for a pretty little white-christmas miracle.
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Written by
petuniawhiskey
For You?
Written by
petuniawhiskey
Published
Dec 12, 2013
Lines·Words
110·373
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