Miser Brother
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"Why are you such an ass?"
"I'm not an ass."
Mitchie Torres glared at Shane Grey, erm-super celebrity pop star- Shane Grey.
Who was he to insult her Christmas wishes? Why was he going through her belongings in the first place?
Sarcasm, when PMS-ing, is never to be taken lightly. Must it be now that Mother Nature comes along?
Shane and his stupid black hair and perfectly pink lips and wonderfully brown eyes, he was nothing special.
He insulted her Christmas wishes so he had no particular worth in Mitchie's eyes.
"I'd rather it be a green Christmas where no kid can enjoy the wonders of snow."
"Why? Who are you, Scrooge?"
"I prefer Miser Brother."
"Which one, wait let me guess, Heat Miser?"
"You got it baby."
"Don't baby me."
Mitchie had another wish to add to her list, a manual on How to Shut Shane Grey Up.
Shane reached for Mitchie's arm but she stood firm.
"What are you doing?" She was bitter, Shane Grey was like a Black Raspberry Warhead, bitter and falsely sweet.
"Waiting for you to melt."
Mitchie scoffed, who in Helsinki would melt at the mere touch of Shane Grey?
"Wait, what?" Mitchie was lost; he meant something by that didn't he?
"I'm Heat Miser, whatever I touch, starts melting in my clutch."
Mitchie rolled her eyes, "You're too much."
Shane smirked and walked away.
Wait a second… that was a pickup line.