Meaty Red Monologue

Improved Essays
Bruises hurt.

Growing up with the uncomfortable yellow-green of an old battle wound sustained from being an adventurous kid wasn't much of a surprise. The off-shade violet of a deep one, or the angry red of an underdeveloped one, on the other hand, is a more recent discovery.

Receiving them daily has become a required hindrance when being chased by your neighbor's sex crazed Pit bull. I could have gotten a car to avoid him --my town is small and my mother never thought I needed one-- I don't, not really but, on most days of my school week, it would be nice.

I'm late on the days after it rains, puddles are ubiquitous and people who enjoy driving into them seem to follow me everywhere. It's my own fault though, I stayed up extra late trying to finish an essay and I forgot to set my alarm. Sprinting away from Thumper the Humper with bedraggled hair
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I walk faster, but with a large crowd of teenagers that move for no one it is fruitless, he plucks my backpack right off me, and tosses it to one of his friends. Meaty number one, or well, Toby from what his other beefy friends call him, looks down at me."How come you ain't running after ya' pack?" I half smile, who needs proper English anyway?

I murmur instead, "It wouldn't really matter, if I ran for it or not, would it? You guys still wouldn't give it back." He looks at me weirdly and walks away, but not before throwing my backpack at Paul, the smartest boy in our school.

I pat Paul's shoulder as he blushes and pick up my heavy knapsack. I walk to my own locker a hall and a half over, but I bump into someone and gasp as something cold and slimy drips down my front. From the cackles behind me, it doesn't take much to guess it wasn't an accident, and the only person would actually cackles is, Sandra Wilkins. My cliche ex- best friend turned stereotypical mean girl. Our friendship was like any other, but maybe I never tried enough since it was so easy for her to walk away after six

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