Hey there! My name is Karissa Preston. You can call me Kara, Kari, or Kris, or Karissa if you really want to. I answer to just about anything, once I think I even answered to Hey you. Right, sorry, I'm gettig side-tracked. I'm going to apologize now, I do that a lot, and I mean a lot, a lot. But you can blame that half on my dumbass mother, and half on me. It's my mom's fault because she went a little crazy on caffeine when she was pregnant with me. From what I was told, she constantly drank Vaults, Red Bulls, Amps, and Monsters, and a whole bunch of other stuff. All that crap led to my birth defect. Well, technically, it's a mental defect where I'm almost always hyper, spazzy, and kind of twitchy. But that's only if I drink caffeine...which I do all the time...against doctor's orders. But come on, you really expect a twenty-three year old women to not drink some form of caffeine. Come on, that's crazy! Okay, my I'm exaggerating, a little. But that is besides the point. To be honest, I kind of enjoy being jacked up on sugar and shit, it's fun!
Well, you know my name, my age, and about my mental defect. How about I let you in on what I look like? Let's see... I'm around 5'7, 5'8, umm, I weight around 150 pounds, give or take a few. But then again, I'm mainly muscle. Last time I went to the doctor I think he said I had around 4% body fat...I think. I'm straight, and single...Woo hoo! Please note that I say this with sarcasm. I mean, personally, I don't entirely care that I'm single. But people, I'm sick of dating assholes! Or being cheated on, so for the time being, I'm good with not dating...Not saying that I would say no if a nice, attractive, sweet, non-asshole, guy decided to ask me out...Hint hint. My body type, I guess is considered tall, atheltic, curvy, and a little pale. Now, I'm going to admit, I have big boobs. However, they are as notas great as everyone would think. Justing walking quickly can be a hassle, scratch that, I do have to run for it to be uncomfortable, but other than that, they're not that bad. I would say 34D. My hair is...wow, umm, bright ass colors. The base is freakin' dark as night black. Then I have these lime green streaks, not to mention lime green undertone, and I have to say, it looks kick ass! Also, my hair is super straight, and really long. It reaches a little lower than mid-back, so I usually have it up in a high ponytail, but I leave my bangs down. My eyes match my hair, sort of. To explain, my eyes are two different colors. My left eye is lime green, and my right eye is this super bright, holy shit, electric blue, also, very kick ass! As you can tell, I have a very colorful vocabulary. Okay, continuing... Next, how about my tattoos and piercings. Tattoos are as follows, lime green star outlined in black on my right shoulder blade, electric blue star outlined in black in between my shoulder blades, a neon purple star outlined in black on my left soulder blade, and finally, a solid black star in the middle of my lower back. Following those are my piercings, now this may take a minute. Let's start with my face. I have three rings on the outer side of my left eye brow, one ring in the middle of my right eye brow, single onyx stud on my left nostril, snakebites with rings instead of spikes, and a single ball tongue piercing. Moving to my ears, I have eight piercings going from my cartilage to my lobe on my left ear, and a single ring in middle of my right ear. Next I have a single ring on my belly button, and that concludes my piercings. All together I have...eightteen piercings, most of which I think are on my left ear.
Do you care about what make up I wear? If so, why? All it is, is heavy black eyeliner, black eye shadow, dark purple lip stick, and clear gloss. But I have to say, I love my lipstick because it looks almost black! Now you get to hear the clothes I wear...ready? I wear black spaghetti strap tank tops, long-sleeved black fitted tees..well, only if it's cold, black wife beaters, and my favorite pair of jeans. Actually, all my jeans look the same, faded, torn up, low rise, flares. And I would beat someone if they took my jeans. My shoes are my sad, faded, torn up, low top, Chuck Taylor's, or converse. But then again, I bought four pairs so I would never run out of my shoes. Or, if I'm in a really good mood, I wear my babies. They started out as brown and light blue checkered Vans, but now they look more like tan and black, also I colored a single square on each of them, one is blue, the other red.
Stuff that I wear that aren't clothes. My guitar pick necklace. It's two guitar picks molded together, red on back, and black on the front. And there's a red pulse line going across the front. That's it actually. Oh, my belt, I always forget because I almost never take it off. It's black, leather with three rows of silver studs on it.
Now I get to tell you about my electronic babies. Starting with Felipe the Second, my cell phone, a black Krzr. And you pronounce it, Phil-E-pay. Next is KarmaBella, neon purple, 4th generation iPod, she's amazing. Last, but not least, my pretty black, Gateway Notebook, Fredward. Do not judge or mock the name, got me!?
Finally, you get to know the random crap about me. Like my family...HAHAHAHA, sorry, they're all dead. As you can tell, I really don't give a rat's ass. My parent's treated me like shit my entire life. From the time I was two until I turned fourteen those bitches abused me. Broken bones, bruises, scars...so many scars. They would actually sit there, and cut little designs into my skin. Including the star on the left side of my forehead, but I can hide it with my bangs, which are lime green and go straight across my forehead, curving slighty, and stopping just at my eye brows. I have a bunch of star scars, and other shapes, hearts, diamonds, but mainly stars. The way they treated me like that might have something to do with my fascination with scars, and stars. My personality, is hard to explain, you'll just have to see they way I act. How I grew up is pretty obvious, I let you figure some of it out. And the rest of the shit about me, well, you'll just have to wait and see.
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Okays, and yes, the s at the end is supposed to be there. You'll eventually get used to the way I talk... I guess I should start with me waking up, that's usually around three in the morning. Don't ask why, it's just a habit. I guess I do this so I can get in some work out time. You know, stretching, running, kicking the holy hell out of the punching bag in the gym below my apartment. Wait, I never said where I lived, did I? Well, I live in Gotham City, fun fun, huh? Right now, I think just about everyone is scared shitless of the Joker. Apparently he's some crazy dude, who likes blowing shit up and slicing and dicing, and leaving scars. To me, sadly, he sounds like someone I would hang out with. But, he's never bothered the apartment complex I live in, or the tattoo parlor I work at, so I guess I'll never know. Okay, back to the punching bag. I do this every morning for about an hour, practicing my kick boxing, Krav Maga, MMA, and let me tell you, all that shit is one hell of a workout! In that hour alone, I'm completely drenched in sweat, so I have to go take a shower. Once I do that, I smell like green apples, you know, they real juicy, yet sour taste you get, yeah, I smell like that. Blow dry my hair super fast, not bothering to use the straightener I bought, since my hair's straight as a board as it is. Swipe on my eyeliner, not feeling like wasting my time with the rest. I throw on my black bra, and thong, yes, I do occastionally wear thongs, so sue me. Next I grab a spaghetti strap and a pair of jeans. Next are my awesome socks, they go to about mid-thigh, so you can see them through the holes in my jeans. They're black, but they have neon colored stripes on them. Grabbing a pair of shoes, I grab a pear and a Vault and head out to work. Checking my phone, I make sure it's close to five, before walking all of three blocks before going into Forever Scarred. That's the name of the tattoo parlor, cool, right? It's only me and Jayson, the coolest gay guy you will ever meet, working there. I'm forever greatful for him letting me work at his shop. I've known him since pre-k, no lie, I've basically known this mother fucker my entire life. He's the only one that helped me keep what little sanity I had left from my parents.
Alrighty, it's been four hours since I've gotten to work, I've had two Vaults and I'm currently drinking a green Monster, and it's amazing. Walking back to the mini-fridge, I grab a pear and start munching on it. As you can see, I love my caffeine and fruit. Well, right now, there's no one in here, so I take the oppurtunity to lay down on one of the tattoo chairs, backwards...mainly cause I'm bored, and because they're really comfy. However, it does make my shirt rise up, and I know if you walk in the door you'd see my black star, and several of the scars my parents left.
"Jayson," I whine from my chair as I grab my iPod from the table next to me, and put it in my back pocket.
I can barely hear him grunt from the back room.
"Get your fine ass out here," I growl, jokingly of course, feeing my phone move around in my other back pocket.
"What if I don't want to," he teases.
"Too damn bad, I'm jacked on caffeine, and you're my bitch, so get out here!" I yell, explaining things in my own weird way.
But before I even hear movement from him, the guitar pick I glued to the doorway runs across the strings I attached to the inside of the door, which makes a screechy, yet pleasant sound. Which tells me that someone just walked in.
"Hello, random person who walked into Forever Scarred. In what way would you like me to creatively, and colorfully forever scar you," I greet and ask this to everyone that walks in, well, when I'm sitting in the chair and can't see them.
"Kara," Jayson yells.
"What," I grunt.
"How are you not bouncing up and down," he asks.
"I give it another thirty seconds before I'm totally jacked," I tell him.
However, my thirty seconds is interrupted by someone putting their hand over my mouth, and everything goes dark.
Last thought, 'I better get some damn pears and caffeine!'
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As I start walking up, I realize something, HOLY CRAP I ACTALLY JUST SLEPT! Sorry, but you have to understand, I'm an insomniac. Earlier, when I said I woke up, that means I just got out of bed at that time. So right about now, I'm freakishly happy, and I really feel like hugging the crap out of the person who knocked me out. And I know just how strange that sounds, but you try going for a really long time with only getting a few minutes of sleep a day, or only sleeping due to pills. Let me tell you, it's not easy. However, my good mood goes away when I realize, I'm sitting in a chair with my hands tied behind my back. This might work on somebody, if they weren't double-jointed in their shoulders, such as, I don't know, someone like...me. I will admit, it hurts like a bitch bringing my arms around, I'm basically popping them out of placing and then putting them back in. It takes all of ten seconds for the stinging sensation to stop, and the caffeine to finally kick in. This does me no good since I can't use my hands... Unless, I can get Frankie or Eddie out of my pockets. Allow me to explain, Frankie is my trusty, and shiny lighter, while Eddie is my equally trusty and shiny pocket knife. I've had both these objects since I was seventeen. And as you guessed, I'm having to put more lighter fluid in Frankie and making sure that Eddie is still sharp. To test Eddie for sharpness, I run him across the inside of my left hand. I have lots of criss-cross lines on my hand, and if I stare at them long enough, they start making shapes...but that's beside the point.
Since I really want Frankie and/or Eddie, I reach to my left as far as I can, and slip Eddie out of my back pocket. Yes! Then, I flick the blade open, and turn it towards me. I slowly start cutting the rope, trying not to get myself, mainly because I really don't need anymore cuts at the moment, and the fact that the way I'm holding the blade, I would most likely get a vein. It takes me about a minute, but none-the-less, I get out. I start doing my happy dance, but I'm interrupted as the door in front of me starts to open. So I put Eddie back in my pocket and sit back down in the chair, trying to look as innocent as possible, but with me...it doesn't work so well. As I look at the door, I see a tiny bit of faded lime green hair, and I smile.
Then it hits me, I've been fucking kidnapped by Joker! But thanks to my screwed up life, this doesn't bother me as much as it should. He finally steps in the room and looks up at me, he seems surprised that I'm already awake, or the fact that my bonds are laying by my feet and I'm sitting on the back of my chair. Quickly, he moves towards me and kicks the chair from underneath me, and I slam back, head then back, then the rest of me into the floor. Instead of a normal reaction, I start laughing my ass off. Now, don't get me wrong, it hurt like a bitch, but I've done that to myself God knows how many times, and usually it's to get away from some guy coming onto me. Or me just randomly falling off the back of the chair I'm sitting on, half the time I shouldn't even be able to but I do. So, do you see why I'm laughing myself to death?