Chapter two:
Flashback in Ireland:
"OOO, what's this lovely drink?" I asked, my words slurred from my drunkenness. What the heck was I doing here? I'm drunk, I know that much, but how did I get that way?
"That, my dear, is a very expensive scotch," the man that had been buying my drinks said. I was still sober enough to know that he definitely had something planned with getting me drunk. Oh well, drink up.
"Scotch, you say? Very," I paused to search for the word, "sophisticated." I had another glass. Now I couldn't tell who's feet were mine, let alone right from left.
"Let's git outta here," he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the door.
"OK, Mister. Where are we goin'?" My words were now far too slurred to be interpreted. We were in the street now.
"You'll see." His voice was husky. We walked for about three blocks. I think three, but I was too drunk to care. He gave me a nudge towards a dark alley. I walked in. We walked just out of sight of passer-bys.
He pressed his half-rotted mouth to mine. I should have protested, but there wasn't enough blood in my alcohol stream. He was slipping my dress down my shoulders when I blacked out.
When I woke up, there were a few bills beside my and my skirts were up to my thighs. My dress top was pulled all the way down to my waist, exposing me. I fixed my shirt before I stood. My legs ached and my head hurt. My clothes were dirty and my hair mussed.
I bent and grabbed the money. I went back to the pub and bought myself a few drinks. Before I knew it, the tender had cut me off. It was dark outside, and once again, I was drunk. I still had some money left.
I went to the docks and bought a ticket for the next boat to America. I boarded the ship, went to my 'room', and slept. When I woke again, the boat was far out to see, no land in sight. I wandered out on to the deck.
"Sir, can you tell me where I am?" I asked the first man on the deck.
"Oh, a Brit, didn't know we had one of those on board." He immediately was pointing out my accent. Just like I could have pointed out his Irish accent, but didn't. "This be the S.S. Mary Sue, bound for America on this trip, she is."
I nearly fell down. America? I must have been more drunk last night than I'd originally thought. I can't remember anything but the pub from the last two nights.
"By the looks of ye, you won't last three days in New York City." Oh, now he's challenging me. Note to self: get on different boat to go home. I'm gonna need a job to get there, won't I?
"No, I'll do just fine," I spat. If there's anything I hate more than someone pointing out my British-ness, it's them thinking I can't do anything because I'm a girl.
"What ever ye say, girly." He doesn't believe me. I'll show him.
Two weeks. Two long, hard weeks. Over that time I pieced together the events of the past two nights. I came to the conclusion that America would be just the place to make myself forget what had happened.
When we reached our destination, my only dress was ruined, and my hair was badly matted. I had no idea what to do. Just then:
"Extra, Extra!" Some idget calling out headlines broke my line of thought. I stared for a moment. He saw me and walked over. "You's from Ireland?"
"No, England," I said, attempting to cover my accent.
"Oh, a British goil. What a cute little accent." Wonderful, the cocky newsboy was making fun of me. I made an attempt to just walk away, but the boy stopped me. "What, I'm not good enough for you to talk to?"
I just kept on walking. He stopped once to sell his last paper, and followed me. No matter what I did, I couldn't shake him. I walked around one block three times. He caught up to me and asked if I had a place to stay.
"No," I said under my breath after a long pause.
"Den you're stayin' wit me." He said it like I had no say in the matter. And I didn't.
___________________~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~____________________
So that's Gidge's story. I told you it wasn't a Mary Sue story. So whatchya think? Please review. I's like to know what you think.
Flashback in Ireland:
"OOO, what's this lovely drink?" I asked, my words slurred from my drunkenness. What the heck was I doing here? I'm drunk, I know that much, but how did I get that way?
"That, my dear, is a very expensive scotch," the man that had been buying my drinks said. I was still sober enough to know that he definitely had something planned with getting me drunk. Oh well, drink up.
"Scotch, you say? Very," I paused to search for the word, "sophisticated." I had another glass. Now I couldn't tell who's feet were mine, let alone right from left.
"Let's git outta here," he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the door.
"OK, Mister. Where are we goin'?" My words were now far too slurred to be interpreted. We were in the street now.
"You'll see." His voice was husky. We walked for about three blocks. I think three, but I was too drunk to care. He gave me a nudge towards a dark alley. I walked in. We walked just out of sight of passer-bys.
He pressed his half-rotted mouth to mine. I should have protested, but there wasn't enough blood in my alcohol stream. He was slipping my dress down my shoulders when I blacked out.
When I woke up, there were a few bills beside my and my skirts were up to my thighs. My dress top was pulled all the way down to my waist, exposing me. I fixed my shirt before I stood. My legs ached and my head hurt. My clothes were dirty and my hair mussed.
I bent and grabbed the money. I went back to the pub and bought myself a few drinks. Before I knew it, the tender had cut me off. It was dark outside, and once again, I was drunk. I still had some money left.
I went to the docks and bought a ticket for the next boat to America. I boarded the ship, went to my 'room', and slept. When I woke again, the boat was far out to see, no land in sight. I wandered out on to the deck.
"Sir, can you tell me where I am?" I asked the first man on the deck.
"Oh, a Brit, didn't know we had one of those on board." He immediately was pointing out my accent. Just like I could have pointed out his Irish accent, but didn't. "This be the S.S. Mary Sue, bound for America on this trip, she is."
I nearly fell down. America? I must have been more drunk last night than I'd originally thought. I can't remember anything but the pub from the last two nights.
"By the looks of ye, you won't last three days in New York City." Oh, now he's challenging me. Note to self: get on different boat to go home. I'm gonna need a job to get there, won't I?
"No, I'll do just fine," I spat. If there's anything I hate more than someone pointing out my British-ness, it's them thinking I can't do anything because I'm a girl.
"What ever ye say, girly." He doesn't believe me. I'll show him.
Two weeks. Two long, hard weeks. Over that time I pieced together the events of the past two nights. I came to the conclusion that America would be just the place to make myself forget what had happened.
When we reached our destination, my only dress was ruined, and my hair was badly matted. I had no idea what to do. Just then:
"Extra, Extra!" Some idget calling out headlines broke my line of thought. I stared for a moment. He saw me and walked over. "You's from Ireland?"
"No, England," I said, attempting to cover my accent.
"Oh, a British goil. What a cute little accent." Wonderful, the cocky newsboy was making fun of me. I made an attempt to just walk away, but the boy stopped me. "What, I'm not good enough for you to talk to?"
I just kept on walking. He stopped once to sell his last paper, and followed me. No matter what I did, I couldn't shake him. I walked around one block three times. He caught up to me and asked if I had a place to stay.
"No," I said under my breath after a long pause.
"Den you're stayin' wit me." He said it like I had no say in the matter. And I didn't.
___________________~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~____________________
So that's Gidge's story. I told you it wasn't a Mary Sue story. So whatchya think? Please review. I's like to know what you think.
