Angry Girl...: By Artimis
Disclaimer: I do not own sunnyday or anything from the BtVS universe or from Angel. I
As I look out of the gritty window of my transport The Greyhound lurches to a stop, not mine. If only I hadn't signed up for this stupid semester gig then I'd still be at home, hangin out withmy friends and drooling over the hot farmer boys in the area. Home being a rather boring rural town in northern Kentucky, but at least I know people there instead of these psychos in Cali.
The job shouldn't be too hard though, my grandmother got it for me. Probably just stocking shelves and taking invantory for the older man. Grammy lives in Cincinnati you see, where I take my classes, and she thought that it was becoming to dangerous for a girl like me to be living alone. Not that I'm weak mind you, it's not that.
Its just that we've had a few deaths in the family recently, a few second cousins, and a great uncle or two. Car-crashes and old age by everyone else's standards, but dear old gram has it in her head that someone's out to get us. So.. Seeing as I'm her youngest granddaughter, she called an old friend of hers, and got me a job at some shop clear across the country. Might as well have been the world...
The Magic Box, that's what Grandma called it. She said I'd like working there seeing as Mr. Giles studies demonology for a living. I took a class on demonology once last year, an interesting field. But hardly of any use in real life, unless of course i wanted to become a proffonal exorsist. If it was then at least I'd be prepared. At least I hope so.
"All off for the Sunnydale stop!" the elderly driver announces. As I get off of the practically empty bus a nice, if slightly green, man in a loud suit helps me with my luggage. Seems he was getting off at this stop as well. He tips his hat to me after I thank him, and I can't help but notice two somewhat pointy bumps on his forehead that were otherwise covered by the hat. Must be a skin condition..
I'm suppose to meet this 'Mr. Giles' at the Magic Box on the corner of Main Street and Vine. He was somewhat peculiar to talk to over the phone, as if he was engaged in other activities. That is to say I could distinctly hear another mans voice in the background complaining about watching a bloody soap and Mr. Giles responded with "If you don't shut the hell up I'll gag you again and chain you back in the tub!" his voice was muffled, since I suppose he covered the phone. But the conversation as a whole made me a bit uneasy.
Whatever the reason for the strangeness I guess I'll just have to deal with it until the summers over, and hope that granny didn't send me to my undoing. California shouldn't be so bad. Besides, I could always go up to Los Angeles if these Sunnydale people are a bit too freaky for me. My cousin Cordeila is living up there now I hear, and I'm sure I could always crash with her...