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I hate everyone – Get Set Go
Some stupid chick in the checkout line
Was paying for beer with nickels and dimes
And some old man who clipped coupons
Had argued whenever they wouldn't take one
All I wanted to do was buy some cigarettes
But I couldn't take it anymore so I left
I hate everyone
All the people on the street, I hate you all
And the people that I meet, I hate you all
And the people that I know, I hate you all
Oh, I hate you all
Some fucking asshole just cut me off
And gave me the finger when I fucking honked
Then he preceded to put on the brakes, he slammed on the brakes
But I made a mistake
When I climbed out of my van he was waitin' but he was six three
And two hundred pounds of satan
I hate everyone
All the people on the street, I hate you all,
And the people that I meet, I hate you all,
And the people that I know, I hate you all
And the people that I don't, I hate you all
Oh, I hate you
All the people on the street, I hate you all
And the people that I meet, I hate you all
And the people that I know, I hate you all
And the people that I don't, I hate you all
And the people in the east, I hate you all
And the people that I hate the least, I hate you all
And the people in the west, I hate you all
And the people I like best, I hate you all
Oh, I hate you all.
"So, Christine. Again we meet." The man looked over his clipboard at the leather clad teenager in front of him. She was, regrettably, the only client he had managed to scrounge up, again, after twelve weeks of no work. He'd dealt with her before, which was precisely the reason he was trying to avoid it at this point. He had bounced her from home to home all over the west coast; he'd even started buying annual train tickets because he knew she'd show up again at his doorstep…or rather office step considering he'd never let the little hoodlum anywhere near his house. And he was always right. She never could stay in one place for very long, always getting herself in police trouble, mixing with the wrong people. His college professor had called people like her "victims of environment."
"Tagg." She corrected and flicked something from under her fingernail in his direction.
"Excuse me?" He laid the clipboard on his desk and laced his fingers together over it. This kid had more nicknames for herself than he had academic awards. (12 he'd like to point out.)
The girl cocked an eyebrow and laced her fingers together as well, mimicking his facial expression.
"You heard me. Tagg, ya know, kinda like my last name." He had to stop himself from checking the clipboard to find out just what her last name was, and she picked up on his confusion. "Taggert." She smiled cockily. "Geez Jimmy, you'd think you'd know my name by now. After all these glorious years…after all the glorious trips we've taken together. And you couldn't even bother yourself to remember my last name huh Jimmy?" Her voice was dripping with dry humor as he corrected her.
"James." She smiled and leaned back in her chair until it was on two legs.
"See, we all have our preferences."
He pointed impatiently at the floor and her chair fell back on all fours. He didn't have to guess why she couldn't stay at one home for more than a month at a time. She was cocky, too smart for her own good and had no respect for anyone but herself.
"Well, now that we're properly introduced let's get back to business Christine."
She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows pointedly.
"Fine…Tagg. Nevertheless young lady we have things to discuss." Her ponytail bobbed as she nodded her agreement.
"Yeah, we sure do. So where you shippin' me this time huh? Oregon? Idaho? California? How 'bout Nevada? I hear Las Vegas is real nice this time of year."
James had hoped to avoid the subject of the location of her new home, and decided to lighten the mood a little before breaking the bad news. She was not going to be happy with the states choice of lodging.
"Would you like a Pepsi Tagg?" He almost choked on the name as he spit it out. She cocked an eyebrow but said nothing of the sudden subject change.
"Sure James." He cringed at the mocking tone in her voice and handed her the bottle over his insanely tiny desk. He often complained about the size of it, but his boss pointed out that it was the only one that could fit in his office. The walls seemed to be drawing inward with every messy paint job in the hideous army green that James hated. Only two chairs other than his own could fit inside without blocking the doorway, and though he was normally a very organized person, papers and manila folders were scattered about the room on precarious perches; some he had even gone so far as to file, inside the fireplace. Luckily it was too old to be used, and hadn't probably seen an actual fire since somewhere in the mid twenties.
"James, you never answered my question." Tagg pointed out before taking a messy slurp of her soda.
"I know." Came his curt reply. Her eyes fired and he could see that she knew it wasn't going to make her happy.
"Tell me." She ordered icily and he averted his eyes. Normally snarling fifteen year olds wouldn't have any affect on him, but she had a certain level of danger about her that made his skin crawl. He knew anything she said with words, would be backed up with actions, and he had no doubt that any threat from her would put him in a bad position. "C'mon James, where am I gonna be livin' for the next month and a half of my life?" He couldn't help but smile at that.
The kid was smart. He didn't like, or take pity on her, but at least she knew the score. At least she realized and admitted that she was trouble.
So many kids he had dealt with before he transferred to this god awful office in Washington had been impossible to deal with. They all denied ever doing anything wrong; whether it be slapping their foster parent, or whatever it was that got them sent back, they wouldn't admit it, and she would. That was what made her case so easy; it was her attitude that made it hard.
Just by the look on her face he could tell that stalling the answer any longer wasn't going to be a very good idea.
"Oklahoma." He blurted and awaited her outburst of anger. It didn't come. Her face fell almost in…pain? No, that couldn't be right.
"What? Why are they sending me so far away? That doesn't make any sense." Her voice was on the edge of shakiness, though he could tell she was trying her hardest to hide it.
"The state feels that you might do better in a new environment." Her face paled, whether from anger or grief he couldn't tell.
"Oh, you mean if they get me far enough away from my home that I'll be shocked into behaving?" She spat venomously and cocked an eyebrow dangerously, daring him to say otherwise.
"Well Christine, you do have a mighty long track record. The state feels that if we put you in a new state, away from all of your previous homes, you might be able to start anew, re-evaluate your life." She didn't even bother correcting him about her name; at that point it was merely a formality. She could deal with one or two states over, but all the way across the country, that wasn't going to be an easy transition, and James could tell.
"We've found you a very nice family in Tulsa, their son was just drafted into the war and they were hoping to find an older sibling for their younger son Tommy. He's about five years old apparently. We got all of those pictures from your previous homes with your younger foster siblings, and you looked so at home with them. We thought this might be a good opportunity for you." The minute the words were out of his mouth he regretted them. The way he had put it, it sounded as though the family was shopping for a new kid. But then he realized, that's all foster care really was. The so called 'eligible parents' would come and pick out the child they wanted, and if the kid did something unsatisfactory, or not to the parents liking, they would be sent back almost immediately. It was like shopping he realized, and it made him sick to his stomach.
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