Disclaimer:Don't own (Breakfast Club), don't sue...
Author's note: I plan to have something happen with ''the club'' soon, keep reading.
I wake up to the sound of police sirens passing by... My head hurts like hell and my throat does too. It was a cold night, and I'm glad it's over. For now, I just focus on the day ahead of me.
I plan to steal a car and get down to Florida. I should arrive by Monday. The holidays should be starting soon. I hate the holidays. With all the faggy decorations, some fucking dildos singing stupid Christmas carols. And him. ''Smoke up Johnny!''. At least he's gone to hell. Maybe Santa should too.
I walk around a bit just to clear my head. I try to avoid the store I robbed last night. I find a small parking lot and see a nice ride. It's a 1969 Mustang GT, and I must have it. Whatever shithead owns it is going to have some trouble getting home.
Surprisingly, the douchebag left it unlocked. I get inside and hot-wire the thing and I'm on my way. It's a privilege to ride this thing, one that I gave myself.
It's nice and sunny outside, a perfect day. I feel great and nothing can ruin it. My father is gone, there's no dumbass teachers tellin me what to do. I'm as free as a bird now, and nothing can change that.
I stop at some run-down motel in Alabama and plan to head to Miami tomorrow.