Hey ppl!!! Just another idea comin outa my cra-zy crack-smokin mind… that's what the guy at cups coffee told me this morning!!! Hope ya like it!!!!
BlackEyedSusan
Before I actually write the story I want ya to read this loverly song I wrote… it's a Christmas parody…
You better watch out
You better not cry
You better not pout
I'm telling you why
Santa Claus is comin' to kill.
He's makin' a list
He's checkin' it twice
Gonna find out who he's killin' tonight
Santa Claus is comin' to town
He sees you when you're sleepin'
He sees you at work too
He sees you at the grocery store
Cause he is stalking you
Ohhhhhhhhhhhh…
You better watch out
You better not cry
You better not pout
I'm telling you why
Santa Claus is comin' to kill.
He has got a shotgun
He's also got a blade
He's known throughout the country
So you'd better run away…
He sees you when you're sleepin'
He sees you at work too
He sees you at the grocery store
Cause he is stalking you
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh…
You better watch out
You better not cry
You better not pout
I'm telling you why
Santa Claus is comin' to kill.
Hahahehehe, isn't that great?????!??! Now one w/ da story!!!!
ME AGAIN
So one day I was just walkin' down the street, mindin' my own business, when this ugly old guy came up beside me.
"You wanna buy some beer?"
My initial reaction was 'get away from me you old druggie,' but my mom always taught me to be nice to old people, so I simply said, 'no thank you.'
But this old guy was persistant.
"My wife's dyin'," he said, "I've got no money. My kids are all flyin' down here in a couple of weeks, but we don't have enough money. We can't check her into the hospital." He looked real pathetic. I felt sorry for him. I was extremely reluctant, but I took the beer. Gave him ten bucks for it, too. I was thinkin', 'I'll give it to my dad or somethin',' but of course, that's not what happened. I went to a party. I took my six-pack with me, and I drank. I drank my heart out. It felt good then, but I wouldn't be half the loser I am today if it hadn't happened.
My name's Randall Adderson, but the larger half of the population calls me Randy. Everyone except my Aunt Grace, who insists on calling me 'Randall Glenford Adderson, III,' all the time. Luckily she lives in Boston. I live at 3522 Beechwood Lane in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I've got a fairly good life, nothing to complain about, really. I'm pretty high on the social status ladder, or at least, I was before… well, I'll get to that later. I'm what they'd call a Soc, a jock. Socially elite. A.K.A rich kid with a big house. Me and my friends, we had a lot goin' for us, you know? We had the looks, the wheels, the babes… a big hunk of land was the cherry on top. Robert Sheldon, my best friend, an I were almost of superstar status in our school, an we had seemingly perfect lives. We went to wild parties on the river bed. We dated cheerleaders. We drank hard. It was a great life.
The only thing keeping our city from being perfect was the greasers, Aka the poor kids with no future who greased their hair and dropped out of school. They seemed like the only obstacle between us Socs and our perfect lives. So we battled it out. Them for their pride and dignity, us for the good name we deserved. We never gave it a rest, and we're just lucky no one got seriously injured. At least, not very often.
Right now I'm sitting in a Court House, looking up at the presiding judge, going over my testimony. It's a murder trial. Guy who did it's dead, but seems we drove him to it. Long story. I don't really know where to start. Only beginning point I can think of was a few months ago, in late September…
Flashback
"Hey Randy?" Bob's hand quivered on the wheel. "Any beer left?"
"Nup, pal, you drunk the last one," I said, my own words rather slurred, "What we gonna do?"
"We're gonna find us a little bit o fun," he said, grinning crazily. "You see that?"
I looked out his window. We were in the middle of greaser territory, and right in front of a large abandoned looking lot. In the middle of the lot was a small guy, a few inches shorter than me, but a whole lot thinner. He was kicking around an old football. I saw the look on Bob's face and didn't even have to guess.
"You game, Randy?" I nodded. "David? Sam? Y'all up for it?"
We were all drunk as the devil as we unloaded Bob's little blue Mustang. The guy didn't see us until we were within twenty feet of him, then he threw the football to the side and started backing away. Bob was glinting his rings in the sunlight, and I saw the look on the kid's face. He was terrified. Bob reached toward him, cussing him out in a low voice, and took a swing. The kid swung back. Probably could have held his own against Bob if none of us ha been there. But he was by himself, and there were five of us. He didn't stand a chance, but that didn't stop us. We were all over him, and even though he was putting up a good fight, he couldn't hold us off. He was bleeding all over everywhere, and I was beginning to think we'd killed him…
"Come on. Let's get out of here." Bob's voice called us off. I stood up and looked at what we'd done…
End of flashback
Turns out, I'm about to testify for that kid's murder trial. He killed Bob. Not in cold blood, though. He was provoked. And since no other witnesses are going to testify and give the truth, I'm going to do it myself. All the other guys are too selfish, they all lied and said we weren't doing anything. But we were, and no matter how hard I try, I can't shake the damn truth. The other people testifying are Bob's girlfriend, Cherry, and some greaser that was there. We almost killed him. We were drunk, we were looking for a fight, and, unfortunately, we got it. Sometimes the truth hurts, but all in all and I can't bring myself to say anything else.
Chapter 1
Sooooooo…
Howdya like it???? I need reviews, people, or I won't update!!!!!! Comeon, I know you got like a minute to spare!!!!