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the-blackest-spider · 3 years

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Revisiting History, Part 2

Pandora’s Box

@specialagentace

When she had left for New Jersey, Natasha hadn’t made the decision where to go from there. Back to New York? Back to the facility where Germaine was? Natasha knew, when she couldn’t make a decision, precise and sure in her head, then she needed to go with her gut.

A small, by the highway motel, one of those chains that offer a rewards program, that families like because they’re cheap, but still decent. Other people like them, because it’s unassuming. Not too fancy, but not so run down that it’s an obvious hiding spot. She takes whatever they offer her, paying in cash of course and settles into the room after raiding the vending machines. She’s definitely not going to use their free, shitty wifi, it might work for a Mother of three uploading pictures to Facebook for relatives to leave various tones of comments on and like or whatever else one did to posts on there, but for this, Natasha had her own means of wifi, secure, multiple VPNs, one for her laptop, another for her cloud storage, one that was used between her and Isaiah, one for SHIELD and so on. None of them seeming particularly connected, but all reverting back to one hub, which was her current laptop as her previous was now brick and she wasn’t going to use the cheap one she got for questionable things, this was not a questionable device. This wasn’t going to leave some nasty virus. But all the same she’s still very wary of it.

Nick Fury was never known to be a man of sharing more than he had to, which was often not a damn thing. Natasha got used to it, she understood it being cut from similar cloth as she was. However she had somehow still been naive, believing she was in his loop only to learn that she was not. He didn’t trust her. Not to the same degree she did him. That had hurt more than getting shot again by the Winter Soldier. It still ached now, like a scar. It’s always the ones you can’t see that hurt the most.

It was a hefty drive and cold to the touch. It had been sitting there now on the little nondescript table that had probably seen way too many Happy Meals over the years and board games its technically too small for. But it fits her laptop fine and the coffee from the in room maker, the fancy type with the little pods which are in her opinion not the best, but a heck of an upgrade from the tiny pots with the super cheap packets that just turn the water brown. This at least has some flavor.

On the bed next to her is a collection of vending machine fare, a glorious haul that Clint Barton would be proud of. A variety of chocolate bars, some pretzels, those big soft cookies, spicy chips that coat your fingers in red dust that is really the appeal of them because licking your fingers clean is the best part and nuts. Twenty bucks in some areas could still go a long way.

She had once she arrived showered, having hid her tacsuit with a trench coat. Now she was comfortable in a pair of yoga pants and a tank top, bare feet settled into the other chair, making herself comfortable as she held the drive up, looking at it as though she expected it to just start talking, telling her things.

It’s not going to open itself Romanoff.

She thinks to herself, but she’s leery of what she may find on there. She both did and didn’t know what Fury had sent her to truly lift off of the Lemurian Star so many years ago now. The flash drive had to be big, custom and she felt a little like Pandora staring at it, feeling the weight of various emotions of what could occur if she open’s it.

“Should’ve picked a hotel with a mini bar…” she itches for a drink, but she’s going to have to be satisfied with just coffee for now.

A breath and then she slides the drive into the dock and waits. Her screen comes to life and the first thing she does, is deal with the tracer programmed into it. Disabling it, she wasn’t going to take chances. Once that was handled, she let it finish loading, rather glad she hadn’t had time to put much on to her new laptop as file after file continued to appear.

While she waited for the transfer to finish, she reached over, small fingers digging through the junk pile on the slightly faded floral blanket until she located a candy bar, unwrapped it and took a bite. Beyond the picture window next to her, curtains drawn closed of course, Natasha could hear the sound of children padding barefoot for the pool area, yelling, laughing and chatting, parents or older siblings tasked with keeping track of their younger brothers and or sisters so Mom and Dad can have some alone time yelling at them not to run and other warnings. A life she will never know and finds that she doesn’t really feel anything anymore about missing out on.

By the time she finishes the candy bar, the transfer is done and she sets up, bare feet on the worn down carpet that somehow never stains, but is rough from being over cleaned. She both did and didn’t know what she was looking for.

“Might as well start with the obvious.”

In the search, she typed in “Burn” which she figured would bring up a lot of things she didn’t need, but she could wade through that to find what she did.

#saving private germaine #SHIELD 2.0 verse #mcuverse

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kitcheninteriordesignideas-blog1 · 4 years

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Evenflow Interiors and Unequalled New Jersey Interior Design Assistance

World-class Garden State Interior Design Assistance

Designing a house can be a satisfying project for anybody. Regardless if you reside in New Jersey or thousands and thousands of miles away on a distant region. It can be a true pleasure to put together a living space which makes you feel content, proud and secure. Thankfully, you won't need to try to do this yourself. That's because getting professional interior design services is simpler than in the past. No matter whether you're thinking about thorough bathroom renovations for your house. It's even more than fine if you are considering bedroom interior design and kitchen interior design Ideas matters too. Skilled and qualified interior designers can help you with all parts of your home, plain and simply. If you wish to secure living room interior design work that can impress your guests and household members, then help from a professional can be priceless.

The Intricacies of Expert Home Interior Design

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Bathroom overhauls cover numerous angles. If you want to improve your bathroom in your house, an interior designer can help you substantially. Interior designers help make decisions regarding bathroom floors, countertops, floating shelves, storage containers and shower doors. If you wish to design a bathroom that looks clean and modern, then teaming with a specialist can be a major game-changer.

Interior design work could be amazing for kitchen areas. If you want your kitchen to look like a vision of charm and convenience, you could talk to specialists about islands, booths, flooring materials, cabinet styles, backsplashes and beyond. If you want your kitchen to be the best combination of visually welcoming and functional, then there are not numerous things that could top advice from a good interior designer.

Bedroom design matters quite a lot. That's because all people must prioritize sleeping environments that are good for peacefulness. If you wish to be able to unwind and rest in a space that's appealing yet quiet, then help from an experienced interior designer can go a long way. Interior designers understand all about bedroom hue schemes that can motivate pure comfort. They know about bedroom furnishings that could encourage ease as well. If you want your bedroom to be a real haven, then the help of the right interior designer can be priceless.

Interior design could make your family area look incredible. It can allow it to feel remarkable too. If you want to enhance your interior design approach in New Jersey, then it's up to you to drop the Evenflow Interiors team a line. We are a Brick, New Jersey favorite within the interior design industry. We have been building homes all throughout NJ look incredible, polished and contemporary for quite a while now. If you're on the lookout for professional guidance that pertains to lighting fixtures, remodeling work, accessories and detailed interior design overall, we won't fail you. Our team members could help you choose furniture items that are cozy yet streamlined and cool. They can help you choose carpets and flooring materials that are the perfect mixture of sturdy as well as easy to maintain. If you wish to streamline interior design, then working with our firm can simply help you do so.

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kitcheninteriordesignnj-blog · 4 years

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Evenflow Interiors and Unparalleled New Jersey Interior Design Services

Outstanding Garden State Interior Design Help

Designing a living space could be a satisfying project for anybody. No matter if you live in NJ or thousands of miles away on a far continent. It can be a pure happiness to construct a house that makes you feel content, proud and secure. Fortunately, you won't have to try to do so by yourself. That's because getting professional interior design services now is easier than ever before. It doesn't matter if you are interested in in depth bathroom renovations for your residence. It is even more than great in case you are considering kitchen interior design and bedroom interior design matters as well. Experienced and qualified interior designers could help you with all parts of your home, plain and simply. If you want to secure living room interior design work which could impress your household members and guests, then assistance from a consummate specialist could be priceless. The Ins and Outs of Skilled Home Interior Design Expert interior designers can aid you with all sorts of relevant tasks. If you want to pick strong yet trendy furniture pieces for your living room, then the advice of an interior designer can help you significantly. Capable interior designers pay attention intently to their clients' desires. They take their specific preferences and goals into consideration as well. That's the way they can help them pick furniture items that could work easily within their living spaces. In case you are a huge lover of rustic interior design approaches, a professional can help you make well-balanced furniture choices. In case you are a huge fan of interior design approaches which are streamlined and fashionable, a specialist could help you perform the exact same matter. Bathroom overhauls deal with numerous angles. If you want to upgrade your bathroom in your house, an interior designer can assist you significantly. Interior designers help make choices about shower doors, bathroom floors, countertops, floating shelves, and storage containers. If you wish to design a bathroom that seems clean as well as fashionable, then teaming with a specialist can be a big game-changer. Interior design work could be remarkable for food preparation areas. If you wish your residential kitchen to seem like a vision of charm and convenience, you can talk with a kitchen interior design expert regarding islands, booths, flooring materials, cabinet styles, backsplashes and beyond. If you want your kitchen to be the ideal combination of functional and visually welcoming, then there aren't numerous things that could top assistance from an adept interior designer. Bedroom design matters a great deal. That is because all people must prioritize sleeping environments that are conducive to peacefulness. If you want to be able to unwind and rest in a room that's appealing yet quiet, then the aid of an experienced interior designer can go a long way. Interior designers know all about bedroom shade schemes that could encourage real convenience. They understand everything about bedroom home furniture that could encourage ease as well. If you want your bedroom to be a true haven, then the help of the best interior designer can be invaluable. Interior design can make your living room appear incredible. It can allow it to feel remarkable as well. If you wish to enhance your interior design approach in New Jersey, then it's up to you to drop the Evenflow Interiors team a line. We are a Brick, NJ favorite in the interior design industry. We've been making homes all throughout NJ look polished, contemporary, and incredible for many years at this point. In case you are looking for professional guidance that relates to remodeling work, accessories, lighting fixtures and in depth interior design overall, we won't fail you. Our team members can assist you pick living room furniture items that are cozy yet cool and streamlined. They can help you select flooring materials and carpets that are the ideal blend of tough and simple to keep. If you wish to simplify interior design, then working with our firm can simply assist you to do it. Get in touch with Our Renowned NJ Interior Design Agency With No Delay Are you trying to find New Jersey pros who could increase your living space substantially? For more information visit us at https://www.evenflowinteriors.com/services/interior-design/kitchen-interior-design/ Give us a call : (732) 458-9571 Address : 760 Herbertsville Rd, Brick New Jersey 08724 CONNECT WITH US: Kitchen Interior Design | Evenflow Interiors on Facebook Kitchen Interior Design | Evenflow Interiors on Tumblr Kitchen Interior Design | Evenflow Interiors on Twitter

#kitchen interior design

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jamshomeandgarden-blog · 5 years

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Evenflow Interiors and Unmatched New Jersey Interior Design Services

World-class Garden State Interior Design Help

Designing a living space can be a rewarding task for anybody. Regardless if you reside in New Jersey or hundreds of thousands of miles away on a distant continent. It could be a real pleasure to construct a house which makes you feel proud, content and secure. Luckily, you won't need to try to do so all by yourself. That is because getting professional interior design services is much easier than ever. Regardless if you're thinking about comprehensive bathroom renovations for your residence. It's even more than fine if you are considering bedroom interior design and kitchen interior design matters too. Experienced and trained interior designers can help you with all aspects of your house, plain and simple. If you wish to secure living room interior design work which can dazzle your household members and guests, then assistance from a consummate professional could be important.

The Intricacies of Skilled Home Interior Design

Expert interior designers can help you with all sorts of relevant projects. If you want to choose sturdy yet trendy pieces of furniture for your family room, then the assistance of an interior designer New Jersey can help you significantly. Skilled interior designers pay attention closely to their clients' requests. They take their particular choices and wishes under consideration as well. That's how they can help them select furniture items that could work seamlessly within their living spaces. If you're a big lover of rustic interior design approaches, a professional can help you make well-balanced home furniture selections. Should you be a big fan of interior design approaches that are sleek as well as modern, a specialist can help you do the exact same matter.

Bathroom overhauls include numerous bases. If you wish to enhance your bathroom in your house, an interior designer can help you considerably. Interior designers make choices regarding bathroom floors, countertops, floating shelves, storage containers, and shower doors. If you wish to design a bathroom that looks clean as well as fashionable, then teaming with a specialist could be a big game-changer.

Interior design work can be remarkable for kitchen areas. If you wish your kitchen to seem like a vision of convenience and charm, you can speak to specialists about cabinet styles, backsplashes, islands, booths, flooring materials and beyond. If you want your kitchen to be the ideal combination of functional and visually welcoming, then there aren't numerous things that can top guidance from a good interior designer New Jersey.

Bedroom design matters a great deal. That's because everybody need to prioritize sleeping areas that are good to serenity. If you wish to unwind and rest in a place that is appealing yet peaceful, then the help of a certified interior designer can go a long way. Interior designers know all about bedroom hue schemes that could promote genuine comfort. They know everything about bedroom household furniture that could encourage ease as well. If you wish your bedroom to be a true sanctuary, then help from the best interior designer can be important.

Interior design can make your family area appear remarkable. It can allow it to feel incredible as well. If you wish to improve your interior design approach in New Jersey, then it's your decision to drop the Evenflow Interiors team a line. We're a Brick, New Jersey favorite within the interior design division. We have been doing homes all over New Jersey look polished, contemporary, and incredible for quite a while at this time. In case you are seeking professional advice that pertains to lighting fixtures, remodeling work, accessories and comprehensive interior design overall, we will not fail you. Our team members could help you pick living room furniture items that are beautiful yet cool and streamlined. They can assist you to pick flooring materials and carpets that are the best blend of sturdy and easy to maintain. If you want to simplify interior design, then working along with our firm can simply assist you to do so.

Reach Out to Our Distinguished New Jersey Interior Design Agency Without Delay

Are you trying to find New Jersey professionals who could improve your home significantly? Call the tireless Evenflow Interiors team whenever you want for more information.

#interior designer #interior designer nj #new jersey interior designer

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carpetcleaningnjus-blog · 5 years

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Professional Carpet Cleaning Services For Your Needs?

Carpets and rugs are quite useful household commodities with a number of benefits other than making your house look cozy and good. If you really want to benefit from the carpet, make sure to maintain the cleanliness of the carpet. Your carpet is full of germs and bacteria and as you step on to the carpet, the allergens and bacteria work into the deepest layer of the carpet. Vacuuming your carpet can help in cleaning the surface clean and helps in giving a tidy appearance but the real bacteria still skulks underneath. Though vacuum cleaners have proven to be a treasure for cleaning, yet even they don't have the power to pull out the dust and pollutants lurking.

This is when you contact professional laundry services to get carpet cleaning services. Here are a few reasons why you will choose a professional service:

• Special Equipment- Let's admit it that stains are stubborn sometimes and you have a limited power to get rid of them. The professional services have specialized equipment which has more power and vacuum to get rid of stains easily. Moreover, they use more advanced methods to extract the dirt from the carpet.

• Different type- Professionals understand the type of carpet which has to be catered. Many carpets are so delicate that they cannot be washed with heavy pressure vacuuming machine. Others won't be able to bear the heat of the hot water if hot water is being used for extracting dust. A professional service will take special measures according to the requirement of the carpet.

• Types of Stain- Now, the professionals are experienced and they handle different types of stains on a daily basis. This is the reason they will clean all of them differently. They have different chemicals for different types of stains.

Carpet Cleaning

• Training- Now only they have special equipment and chemicals, but they also have special training for handling different types of carpet. Moreover, experienced staff gets to handle delicate carpets while new ones get normal carpets. With years of training, these professionals understand the equipment and chemicals which they possess for cleaning the carpet.

• Save Time- Taking a professional service will help you save a lot of time. First, you don't have to spend time washing the carpet. You can do something else at that time. Another way they save your time is they use special equipment which accelerated the drying process. If you dry the carpet at home after washing, it takes almost two to three days.

• Guarantee- Good professional cleaning services guarantee their services such as Professional carpet cleaning services in Dubai. You don't have to worry about the quality of the carpet getting ruined. Moreover, you can claim your money if the stains are not properly removed or your carpet has been damaged. You can even give them back for a redo if not satisfied. Look for carpet cleaners who have a proper license though since it means that an authoritative figure trusts them as they have a well-trained staff.

Though, choosing a carpet cleaning service can be a little tricky. The only hustle in the way is taking the carpet to the cleaner and dropping it there. There are a number of services which offer pick and drop services. Look for the one which saves your time since you are taking the service for saving time.

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#carpet cleaning

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tutti-writes · 6 years

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Let’s Play a Game of Ghost or Hallucination

You’re dead.

You’re gone. You’ve kicked the bucket. You saw the light. You are no longer alive. Alive and you are now mutually exclusive entities. You have run out of time. You are six feet under. You gave up the ghost. You went out for a pack of smokes and ended up in the gutter. You pulled the trigger and it worked. You are dead. You are a once was. You are a has been. You are fucking goddamned wasted.

You’re dead.

There’s a lot of living people do without ever being alive.

FUCK! Another wasted hour on a deadbeat score. I sit up and crouch over the steel bench, warming the goosebumps popping on my arms with the rub of my hands. I cannot say I am particularly surprised. I pushed the embalming fluid through Mortimer Saperstein’s blotchy purple shoulder almost four days ago. The effects of the fluid wear off by day two; day three if the person really fucking believed in something. No, Mortimer was a goddamned Catholic. You can’t get a day three out of shoulder tapping and breadcrumbs, let alone a day four.

A huff and a sigh expel from my lips causing a white puff to form as I shove the frozen Mr. Saperstein back into the freezer once more. My dry cracked fingers squeeze my temple as I turn around to scan the area for who could quell this ache. Fuck, I needed a fix and I needed it bad.

I take a spin around the room, opening and closing the metal bins in search of some morsel not gone stale of fridge aftertaste and rotting innards….

Now for the ever-popular Morgue Styles of the Stiff and Lifeless, featuring Hedy Lincoln, Rose DeMastris, and Leeroy Ginkin. Hedy was an art teacher from Pekin whose rollover time in the peace movement of the sixties earned her a fine for doping it up in the oncology bathroom just before she croaked. Rose studied English Literature in Chicago until a wealthy proctologist persuaded her into mastering the domestic life. She died surrounded by family, without a book in sight. Lastly, poor Leeroy. Leeroy led his life fighting the good fight. From becoming a respected black soldier in WWII to being beaten by police at a peaceful protest. What a hero! He froze to death alone in a back alley, homeless.

Goddammit! Fuck! Shit! Damn! Hell! Fuck on a stick on a brick none of these yesterday’s headlines will work. Hedy and Rose will get their time in the casket spotlight tomorrow morning, a week after their arrival. I’m not going to risk fucking up my work for a less than ten percent chance of a high, no matter how devout Rose was. It’s been two weeks since Leeroy came to join us and we still can’t find his family. Three weeks since the subzero temperatures petrified Leeroy’s feeble shivering body causing his organs to shut down one by one until not even a last breath was left.

BAM! The sound of my slamming Leeroy’s slot shot through the room. I glance up at my metallic reflection in the locker. Dark brown twists matted and rested in waves of a tangled nest of unwashed, unbrushed hair. A complexion paler than beach sand barely reflected against the white walls behind. White walls are my tiny body’s camouflage. The most prominent feature beyond the dip in the bridge of the nose was the dark smudging circles encasing the startling light green eyes. Part of the bruise looking came from unwashed eyeliner, the other half from four nights without sleep.

This is what you did with your life. You took the heaping piles of money your fucking Romeo and Juliet parents left you and bought a fucking funeral home. Not a pony, not a car, not a goddamned Italian Villa….but a hearse and a mortuary.

BEEBOOPBEEBOOOP…..

The sound of my cell phone breaks me from my moment of pity. I dig the rectangular device from the black hole of a pocket in my charcoal colored smock and swipe over the scratches on the screen several times before it allows an answer.

It’s Cadence.

“Yeah?” I ask.

“Got one for you. Coming in around back in five minutes,” she says and immediately hangs up.

The tension releases from my shoulders and I race up the stairs to tell my apprentice to get ready for a new arrival.

“C’mon Marley! We got an un-live one!” I yell reaching the top of the stairs. Marley’s obnoxiously large suede shoes appear in the kitchen entryway a second before the rest of his towering gangly self catches up. His tan skin appears darker in the shadowed entryway as he stands peeling a banana, shoving it whole into his mouth before speaking.

“Y’know, I did not find that funny the first time you said it. I still don’t.” he manages to clearly say amidst the mushy chomps and hint of a British accent, the result of his living in London for twelve of his childhood years. He came to live with his aunt after his parents died in an accident. Maybe that is why I took him on as my first apprentice; some orphan bond or orphan hood or something. We both have dead parents, just his did not involve matching revolvers.

“Look, I don’t have time to argue if Brits even have a sense of humor. Cadance has a new client for us to meet. Should be arriving any minute. So please, swallow your banana in your unusually large throat and make yourself useful.” I say, emphasizing the double entendre of his throat size until a red flush grazes over his modelesque cheek bones. I swear, if death did not fuck people up, he’d be in Hollywood.

Marley rolls his iridescent mahogany eyes and shrugs his squared shoulders as the buzzer rings. His robin’s egg blue polo ripples catching the whites of the overhead light as he makes his way past the four tables adorned with fake flower arrangements. I stare down at the just flung grey patterned carpet to avoid the wind of the doors Marley just flung open. I chose grey to mask any stains, and carpet to muffle sounds of feet and falling. People are so unaware of how many of their loved ones tipped over like wine bottles being carried in.

“Ms. Hugh, I believe we are going to need your help. This fellow is rather large.” Marley says.

“Will you fucking not call me….” I begin.

“Darcy.” He grins as a child in knowledge of their own mischief.

We roll in our new resident, who Cadence calls Jason Malone. I ask how he bit the dust and she explains he literally bit it on a back road on his motorcycle. Not necessarily the smoke and glory most riders aim for, but I guess it is better than my last rough rider who died of dysentery in a men’s stall in Jersey. Cadence and I tuck Jason Malone in on top the of the cool metal frame of the morgue car before she departs. She waves through the thin window of as it shuts with a thud. Cadence hates how clinical the morgue smells so she always leaves quickly, but frosted guts and Lysol is the odor of home to me.

“48. Wife. Children. Bloody hell grandchildren. Geesh, what a mess.” Marley exclaims flipping through the police and coroner reports, breathing deep heaving sighs. He keeps his empathy as a family crest, or as the only family he has left I’m not sure which. The iridescence in his eyes flicker to a dark, almost reaper black, as he turns to put down the file and pick up the disinfectant.

“Marley, it’s late. Why don’t you call it a night? I got it.” I say, giving him an out to escape.

“I’d rather stay and learn…” He begins.

The grit of getting past the tinge of loneliness lingering on every syllable he spoke and getting to my oasis outweighed any faculty of loyalty to his teaching. “This is going to be a solo job, tonight. Got it?” It is past six in the evening. The family shouldn’t call for arrangements until tomorrow. Marley can compose himself tonight and deal with them tomorrow.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. If I’m to learn anything you’ve got to let me help sometime…” He said, drifting off in defeat as he saw my shrug of an care when the door drew shut.

I begin the process and make Mr. Malone a sparkling gem, certified clean by scientists and moms everywhere. The needle goes into the artery of his right shoulder next to his chivalrous and patriotic tattoo of an eagle emerging from the American flag with U.S.S. Navy written underneath. The deep crimson and purplish hued blood drains and pours from the body like nectar in a sieve. When all the life juice finally drips from his veins I fill him back up with the fluid that makes people look like people and not rotting masticated meat from Thanksgiving dinner. I finish through the veins and replicate the procedure through the abdomen. And there lay Jason Malone, safe and soundless.

Washing up I barely kept my fingers from twinging in anticipation. The lock clanked as I chained the door and dimmed the lights to where everything was barely detectable. Grabbing a syringe from the cabinet next to the washing station, I held it to get a reflection and smiled openly at the prize before extracting some of the embalming fluid from Jason’s tattooed shoulder.

What do you believe? What is your life after death? Do you stay in your memories and relive your childhood and children? Do you anal fuck twelve virgins because you deserve it? Do you reach heaven’s gate? Do you stay here on earth reliving your homerun over and over? Do you find the cure to cancer? Do you sit with Buddha? Allah? God?

This is what I find out. What you believe is what I get off on.

I sit back in my frigid chair and use my teeth and my right arm to wrap the tourniquet around and tie to reveal my vein. The needle pierces the already circular red marking and I breathe in relief.

They ask:

How does she know what music my grandma likes?

Why does she know the names of unknown corpses?

Why does she seem so familiar to my brother/mother/aunt/sister?

I’m not a fucking psychic. I’m not a fucking medium. I’m fucking high.

I’m tripping balls on grannies’ memories. I’m getting fucked up on grandpa’s Jesus juice. I’m walking next to fucking John Lennon on a bed of clouds with your acid dipping uncle. I am watching your priest blow David Bowie dressed in feathers and glitter.

This is my stage and I must perform. In front of the bereaved I am the goddamned ringmaster and I light up the show. But here? Behind the curtain, I am the hallucinogenic spectator with popcorn and a beer. You die, I get fried.

The rooms clinical atmosphere begins to shape shift as I hear the chain stretch and I jolt up with a start. The cart in front of me crashes and the needle spins into unknown places.

“What the fuck!” I shout, looking heinously at the idiot who dared to disturb me.

“Sorry Ms- I mean Darcy. But…the Malones just arrived.” He stammers.

“Who?” I manage to say amidst the fluttering orbs of light around me.

Marley points to the corpse on the slab. “Mr. Malones family is here to see about him.”

The hallucinations pour from a liquid state to a solid and I freeze, staring wide-eyed back at Marley’s casual overcoat. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. An infinite amount of fucks for this situation. I am at the tipping point of nonsense and about to enter the green fields of Jason Malone’s eternal happiness when my own eternal damnation personified in Marley’s earnest voice slashes the whole illusion to pieces. I’m running in strides back to the reality line…

“Darcy? Darcy? DARCY!” Marley’s voice turns to an almost hysteria as the clanks of him tying to barge through the door snap me to the present. “Darcy open the damn door!”

“Alright, alright. Jesus, Marley, who knew you even had a pair of anything.” I assure him of my state of being in my own quip nature as I pull the chain out of it’s lock. Marley treads back a couple steps and looks me up and down, studying.

“Are you alr-“He begins to ask.

“I’m fine.” I bat back quickly.

“But your eyes, they’re dark and your pupils are…”

“And Oh My, grandma, what big teeth you have!” I reprimand sarcastically, cutting him to a place that makes him wince back in hurt.

“Well, you look like shit and you smell ghastly.” Marley manages to say with a singe. I am actually impressed by his tone, but not enough to show it.

“What I am is considerably irritated. I’ll use the back way and shower quickly, change, and be back in ten. Just stall, okay?” I state, and Marley begrudgingly offers a nod of adherence. I know he wants to ask more but there isn’t the time. He couldn’t have seen everything, but he saw enough to warrant an inquiry. Thank the godless I installed the chain on the door.

Once Marley sways his dancers’ hips around and disappears to the upstairs I return to my state of frenzy as before he called my name. The door sweeps my hair behind me as I fling it as fast as it can open, searching the floor with eyes for any sign of the needle. Five fucking years of painstakingly careful execution of hiding my high ended at my own foil. Good job, Darcy, your common failure of crash and burn now comes to your favorite hobby.

On this episode of: Dude, Where’s My Needle? I hit the floor on hands and knees and scour the place to find my evidence. The jagged edges of my fingernails extend out in marks along a black tar highway. Wind brushes through my arms and around my waist as I stare forward to the dreamy fuchsia, orange, and burning yellow sunset horizon….

Shit. I shake myself and the horizon fades black into the marble flooring. With a push, I jump from the floor and look at the standard doctor’s office plastic clock. Three minutes I lost on Mr. Malones highway ride. There’s no fucking time to find the damn needle.

A shine gleams off Jason Malone’s nose as I shut off the light. My fingers flip the switch back on and I walk in inches towards the corpse. There, atop the corpse like a birthday cake for a funeral, the needle stands up. The tip of the needle stuck directly in Jason’s wide bridged nose. I poke the top of the injector and it waves back and forth like a metronome. It’s real, I’m sure of it I think, as I grab it and fling it into the wastebasket before heading upstairs to my quarters.

I don’t stop to turn on the light and illuminate the catastrophe that I call my upstairs apartment. Trudge through, shower, move the fuck right along. No amount of makeup will ever cover the hollowness incased in a shell of a tiny little pale whiny bitch such as myself. Suck it up, fucker, you’ve got business to do. You do your best work while being barely alive.

The echo of grinding my teeth ricochets in my brain as I stomp down the stairs. Fucking high cock blockers, this family, coming in here unannounced after hours. The dead may not keep hours, but I sure as hell do. I curse Jason Malone’s nightshade blue motorcycle and put on my “condolences” face as I enter.

Action! Time for the scene. Sweet docile funeral director enters stage left with a woeful demeanor and a basket full of tissues. She assures them their dearly departed is in the best of care while handing the grieved a napkin to wipe their fresh and relieved tears away. The director keeps decorum and shows the best salesman review of how to usher the dead a final farewell…

“It’s about damn time you get here!” croaks a raspy male voice.

Marley chimes in ahead of me, “Ms. Hugh, this is the Malone family. Everyone, this is Ms. Hugh, our director here at…”

Each of the family members give me their names. Old lady grey-fro is first to tell me she is the poor Jason Malone’s mother, Blanche. To the left of her sits her leather clad biker gang appearing eldest daughter, Marie, who despite her appearance talks in a delicate voice. Next to Marie, pen and paper ready for notes and blonde hair disguising her face, a girl who says her name is Roe. Across the table Jason’s older daughter Mona attends to two children while her husband Brent introduces them. Seated to my right in a barely audible voice a petite woman tells me she is Jason’s wife, Diana.

“Okay,” I say, “Now that I know at least your names, I think we can begin to talk about the arrangements if you are ready.” The quiet of reluctancy puts everyone to a silent moment. It’s the type of silence I hear nearly every day. The silence that screams, “No we’re not fucking ready!” No one is every fucking ready, especially not this crowd.

An overpowering scent of musk chokes me as Grandma Blanche leans over passed any personal space and plants her bosom on my shoulders, adjusting her silver spectacles to look. “You see,” Blanch points… “right there…I want that one and….”

“Jason….JASON….are you even listening to me? Bet you can’t hear a damn word I’m saying on that motorbike of yours. You love that motorcycle than you do your own mother! You hear me! I’m done!”

I’m blinded by bright lights and the honking of a large vehicle……AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

SMACK!

“Mom doesn’t want that package, Grandma, she wants this one.” The voice said dragging me back to reality with a jolt. It was Mona’s manicured finger with I am sure some polish titled, “Slutty Pink” or “Tit Juice” or some other obnoxious name for fucking pink contrived by the bored and corporate. Tit juice nails Mona’s colored her thin lips in with almost the same color lipstick and rouge for her cheeks. She talked like a reject eighties popstar from New Jersey with hair to match.

Blanch places a hand to her heart as if she’s a thespian of a great Shakespearean work in the deep south., “But, I am…”

Mona cocks her head and points her index like a trigger, “I don’t care who the hell you think you are, but that’s my dad and over there is his motherfucking wife, so if you don’t just back off…”

“I AM HIS MOTHER!!!!!” Blanche exploded, throwing both her hands in the air like this expression should render awe and applause from the audience instead of eye rolls. “Fine, fine, FINE! I can see I’m not wanted here. None of my kids care about me. My grandkids don’t care about me. I’m leaving!” Blanche’s hair ignites in a grey fire as she leaves the room, but I know that’s just the hallucinogens…I think. Marie and Diana chase after her, but no one shouts, “FIRE” so it’s just me tripping balls. I can deal with their fucking crazy, I just have to keep my fucking unreal crazy separated from their crazy. Sometimes reality is more batshit than tripping balls on highway to heaven.

“Now, mom, no one wants you to go anywhere. We want you here. But we..” I hear Marie tell her mother in as calming a tone as possible.

“I don’t think my poor heart can take any more, Marie! No one knows how hard it is to be me right now. I’m his mother!” Blanche says in sobs that put the Academy to shame. The award of the night, however, did not fall to her, but to Mona. She leapt up, leaving behind a mist of hairspray and face powder behind her and shuffled out the door.

“Oh, hell the fuck no!” she exclaimed as she walked out, her black dress flowing behind her like a cape in heroic flight to the villain. I don’t think I’d have a better vision stoned in the basement. Super Tit Juice rushed towards her grandmother followed by her sister and husband who ran passed me to hold her back. I went to the entrance to calm down the commotion when I felt a tug on the back of my skirt.

I turn around to see a girl no more than five looking up at me. Her features were barely grown but enough to know she’d always have dainty features. She looked down and tugged at the hem of her floral dress before she asked, “Aren’t you the funeral lady?”

“Yes, yes I am.” I say sweetly.

“Where does he go now?” she asks genuinely. Her bangs tread around her eyeline giving the impression her eyes are twice the size than their normal state as the sea blues begin to flood with burgeoning tears. Fuck, I had to come up with something. Luckily, my extracurriculars make this occupational hazard easy.

I bend my knees to reach her level and place her hand into mine. “You see, there is a bright green field and a never-ending stretch of highway, and he never has to get off his motorcycle. The skies are always clear and never rainy. And every evening has the most beautiful sunset where he can ride and never get weary.”

“Are you sure?” she questions, pursing her thin lips together.

I smile almost completely sincerely, the top of my overbite protruding over my lower lip, “You know what? I had a lot of those same questions when I lost my parents at a young age. It is one of those questions if you focus on too much, you’ll miss every real thing right in front of you searching for the afterlife. But I can assure you almost one hundred percent, he is where he believes is the happiest place for him.” The happiness shining on her face suggests she understands as much as a five-year-old can. The girl giggles and skips down the hallway.

My head throbs as I turn back around to the screaming match between Blanche and Mona. Here we are ladies and gentlemen for another round of Family Smackdown! Here in the first corner sporting her turn of the century musk de old person and fanny pack, It’s Our Fair Lady Grey-Fro with the dramatics to keep you sighing and the pacemaker to keep her going, going, going.

In the adjacent corner, wearing her patent ant Pepto-Bismol colored and decades old everything, is Super Tit Juice! When she’s not busy fighting for family justice, she can be seen at the local dollar mart getting a fresh manicure for those cat scratches!

One-Two-Three- Let’s go! First strike comes from Grey fro with a swift, ��I’m your grandmother you won’t treat like that!” But Super Tit Juice recoils quickly with a, “You’ve never been there for us!” Grey fro takes a few paces back to recover but then comes from behind with a “I’m not going to be around forever, you know! “Super TitJuice is no fool and grabs Greyfro by the head and body slams her with a, “It’s not about you right now! It’s about our dad and he’s dead!” One-Two-Three-Four-Five-Six-Seven-Eight-Nine-Ten. Victory!

“If you all are finished, we can adjourn back in the room. Otherwise, the police can escort you out.” I say, causing everyone to file in silently to the conference room.

Once seated, I begin, “Everyone here is very passionate, and that can be a good and bad thing. Sometimes it allows us to show those who have passed how much we love them. Sometimes it makes us say things we regret…And sometimes you can’t take back what you say before it’s too late,” I pause on my words and Blanche settles a little lower in her seat and looks away, “But what we can do now is sit here and decide together what Jason would have wanted. Jesus Christ, this little girl here acted with more common sense than any-“ the looks of bewilderment on everyone’s faces stopped me in my moment of rally.

“Uh, Darce..” Marley interjects quizzically.

“What” I asked.

“What girl are you talking about?”

“His granddaughter.”

“Darcy, Mr. Malone only has grandsons.”

Fuck.

#short story #fiction #writing #chuck palahniuk #funny #satire #fuckmywritingteacher #words #death #funeral #drugs

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letsnewjerseys · 2 years

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johnscarpetcleaningbricknj · 1 year

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“Why It’s Worth It for Brick, NJ Residents to Have Their Area Rugs Cleaned By Experts.”

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carpetcleanersbricknewjersey · 2 years

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https://carpetcleanersbricknj.blogspot.com/2023/03/the-top-benefits-of-professional-carpet.html March 24, 2023 at 11:54AM

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geminicblue · 6 years

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20 Galaxies: Legend in the Sky Ch 3

I’m not going to be keeping a daily posting schedule, but I just want to repost the first four chapters real quick. Chapter 4 will be up tomorrow, and then I’m not sure when the next one will be. Guess it depends how easily I get 22 done

Traffic picked up as Ru made her way home. She weaved into drainage ditches to avoid passing cars, ignoring the cool rainwater that trickled through her sneakers and socks. Sparrows chirped, a lawnmower sputtered and roared in a yard across the street, and yet they all seemed miles away. She was lost in the onslaught of questions her mind asked, dreading the answers. She didn't notice how close she was to home until a shout sent her thoughts scattering.

"Hey Ruster!"

Ru glared down Plover Road. The Hadley house was second on the street, a two-story tucked away inside a miniature forest of maples, crabapple trees, and blue spruces. Its walls and roof were a dark brown that reminded her of topsoil, with splintering window frames and faded brick accents. A walk made of uneven stones led to a concrete porch. There was a thin petunia garden that followed the edge of the walk and porch. One of Ru's after-school chores was to water the flowers, but she wasn't going anywhere near them with Jayson and Randy sitting on the porch, grinning in the shadows. Her brother she could deal with, but the sight of Randy Fresnel made her want to go back to the park and keep wallowing.

"Don't call me Ruster!" she shouted at them.

"Geez, OK. Sorry, Prudence," Jayson shouted back.

The mention of her full name made Ru as prickly as the spruces. She stormed up the driveway and loomed over the two snickering boys. Her looming, as usual, had no effect. Only Jayson's sly grin could be seen under his beloved White Sox cap, the only thing he ever wore that showed a hint of age. He was wearing a new baseball jersey and dark blue jeans without a speck of dirt on them. Randy was the opposite, his clothes riddled with holes and grass stains. He had more bandages crisscrossing his limbs than he had fingers. His hair was vivid red, despite the filth that streaked each short cowlick.

"Don't call me that either," Ru snapped.

"Can we call you Rude?" Randy asked eagerly.

"No."

"Dense?"

"No!"

Randy swept away from Ru, his ever-present rollerblades clattering across the front walk stones. "Ruster it is then!"

Ru huffed and stomped into the house as the two boys started singing. They knew far too many songs about roosters as far as she was concerned. "Go home, Randy!" she hollered at him before slamming the door.

"Jayson?" her mother called from upstairs.

"No, he's outside with Randy!"

Ru set her bloated backpack on the kitchen counter and glanced at the clock. As she'd predicted, visiting hours for Breckenridge were over. At least phone calls were accepted until nine. Her mother came down the stairs, wearing far more jewelry than usual and a frilly blouse that reminded Ru of orange pulp. "There you are," she said, giving Ru a quick hug. "I've got an interview tonight, so I won't be back until late. Kelly's coming by in a little while.

Ru frowned, less than the scowl she'd given her brother, but an intentionally weary look that made her feelings plain. "I'm twelve, Mom, we don't need a sitter."

"She's just coming by to clean." Her mother gestured to the living room and set an envelope on the counter. "This is for her. Tell Jayson to come inside when she gets here. I told her she could bring pizza."

Kelly wasn't really that bad, especially when she showed up with some of her ultra-cheesy homemade pizzas to share. She was a college freshman Jayson described as "stuck in the 80s," citing her neon accessories and huge curly hairstyle. The problem was she was always coming by to "clean," but ended up staying long after the house had been deemed spotless, until whenever Ru's mother just happened to come home.

The garage door hummed shut, and Ru picked up the phone. Breckenridge's end had barely begun to ring before it was scooped up and there was a breathless, "Hello?"

"Hi, is Colleen there?" Ru asked.

An impatient sigh, puffed into the phone. "She can't talk right now." A muffled "It's not him," followed, just barely audible.

"Well, is one of the house mothers there?" Ru persisted. "I have to give Colleen her homework."

"No. She's in the hospital." Someone snickered in the background, and Ru gritted her teeth as she recognized who was speaking. "They're not sure if she's going to make it, so I don't think she's worried about homework right now."

"Shut up and put her on the phone, Ronnie," Ru growled.

There was a click and a dial tone. Ru slammed the phone in its cradle and pressed redial. After four tries, she did manage to give her message to a very irritated house mother, who confirmed that Colleen was actually sick but was in no danger.

That done, Ru lugged her backpack to the living room. Once her eyes adjusted to the dimness, they nearly bulged out of her head. The shorter of the two couches was overturned, its blue, flower-specked cushions in a pile by the fireplace. Paper and mounds of baseball cards blanketed the carpet, and a faint aroma of cooked salami hung in the air next to a pair of saucers slick with brown grease. Most mothers Ru knew would be furious about a mess like this, but a shuffle through some of the papers revealed half of this was Ms. Hadley's own doing. The story about Kelly cleaning was more plausible now.

Ru righted the short couch, then lay back with her head and ankles propped on the armrests and her nose buried in her new textbook. Golden sunlight trickled in through the kitchen patio blinds, illuminating the pages. The myth for the weekly essay was about the Aurora Pools. Before she knew it, she had read through the Legend of the Cameraman, the Angel of Leaves, the Midnight Sun, and the Storm Owl. Her eyes strained for more as the room grew dimmer and dimmer.

A silhouette appeared in the corner of her eye.

It seized her shoulders. Its nails dug through her shirt as it shook her, howling, an unearthly wavering shriek. Ru shrieked back and wrenched away. She scrambled over the armrest and backed up against the wall before recognizing Jayson. His eyes were wide with amusement, gleaming in the deep shadows formed by the brim of his hat. "You didn't even hear me walk in."

Ru threw her book at him. "What is your problem?"

Jayson ducked away from the book. "You want the last can of ravioli?"

"Kelly's bringing food."

"It's seven-thirty already," Jayson pointed out.

With a shock, Ru glanced at the clock on the VCR, then went to the patio door and nudged the shades aside. A pair of stars winked at her from a darkening indigo sky. Her stomach growled loudly, as if it too was just realizing the time.

She stumbled as a head rush momentarily blotted out her vision. The answering machine on the kitchen counter read 0, and Ru could not remember the phone ringing, though to be fair, she really hadn't noticed Jayson walk in either. "She's usually here by five."

Jayson shrugged. "She got stuck in traffic or something. You want the ravioli or not?"

Ru shook her head and went hunting in the cabinets for her own dinner. "Where'd Randy go?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw frustration spread across Jayson's face. "Grounded. Joe Ackerman was messing with him at recess and Randy gave him a black eye."

"He's going to get kicked out of school if he keeps getting into fights." Ru didn't feel all that bad about the prospect.

Exasperation broke through in Jayson's voice. When he was upset, he had a very brisk way of speaking, just like their mother. It made Ru feel like she was the younger sibling. "I know. I keep telling him that, but he doesn't believe me."

"Joe probably deserved it," Ru said. "He'll get kicked out before Randy does."

"Joe was going to prank the new girl in your class."

Although Quarterhill Middle School was a fairly large, Ru was not surprised Jayson knew who Kenna was. He had friends in all grades. He looked disgusted as he tried to work the manual can opener. "You can tell a new kid anything about the park and they believe it."

"Not Kenna." Ru waffled between a can of macaroni and cheese and a small box of cereal. "She asked all the tough questions."

Jayson snorted. "They're only tough for people who believe those stories."

Ru didn't respond. This was not one of the times she found Jayson's cynicism comforting. His words stung as they repeated in her mind. It was so easy for him to brush the legends off as a marketing ploy, and it was so easy for others to believe every word of the stories was real. Ru felt caught between the two, a lonely place.

Her father had been right along with her. She hadn't realized it until later on. He was looking for proof. She only remembered him in flashes, his smiling face peeking over the top of her stroller on a warm summer night. Her mother had a photograph of the two of them in what Ru was certain was the same moment. He looked like an older version of Jayson, but then again, not. Same inky black hair, same White Sox cap, same pointed chin and small, round nose. On the other hand, his face was full of stubble, his clothes wrinkled and grin uneven. He was a lot more relaxed than her mother, who stood behind the stroller with a dignified smile.

Something flashed.

Ru's heart jumped. There had been a light in the darkest corner of the cabinet, small but too bright to be a simple reflection, almost bright enough to sting her eyes. Static shock? It hadn't touched her, if that was the case.

Another head rush came on, worse than before. She groaned and eased herself away from the counter. Jayson eyed her, but she barely noticed. The shadows over his eyes stood out more, the sharp, curled shadows in the dark rooms around the kitchen. They formed shapes in Ru's spinning head. Her stomach tied in knots. Static cleared from her vision, but the tingling in her head remained, grew stronger. She swallowed hard and tried to get a grip on herself with pure logic. She was probably hungry, or maybe sick. If Colleen was sick, she could have caught something from the same place. She should go lie down. The thought became more and more appealing each second. Not resting or eating, but leaving the room.

Now.

"Jayson." Her voice quivered, distant.

Jayson opened his mouth upon seeing her expression, but whatever he had to say disappeared in the buzz that filled the room. The sound came from somewhere overhead, focused on the kitchen light. A violin, with crooked strings and a bow full of thorns. The louder the sound became, the more pressure Ru felt on the top of her head. Her knees trembled with the effort of standing.

Don't stand. Run.

Jayson stared up at the light. The dull disc of a lamp seemed ready to burst under the pressure. Ru couldn't tell if he was looking at it because her eyes were already on it, or if he could hear the noise as well. It was hard to tell by his face, eyes wide but not quite alarmed.

A chill streaked up her spine.

Run, her mind screamed. Now!

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

#20 galaxies #original fiction #original characters #fantasy #magical girl

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jeffreyqeaf421 · 4 years

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When cement hydrates, a considerable quantity of calcium hydroxide is developed. A response happens in between the calcium hydroxide as well as co2 (from the air) to form water insoluble calcium carbonate, called efflorescence. Efflorescence does not influence the structural efficiency or toughness of concrete pavers. Eagle Bay consists of admixtures in their concrete pavers to assist reduce efflorescence, but efflorescence is an all-natural incident in all concrete items.

Efflorescence may show up instantly or within months following installment. It may remain for months as well as several of it might use away. Deposits may be removed from the concrete paver surface area by utilizing proprietary efflorescence cleaners. Prior to purchasing or using any type of chemicals to get rid of down payments, please consult your neighborhood Eagle Bay dealership for efflorescence elimination chemicals.

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Please visit http://www.icpi.org or http://www.ncma.org for even more details on installment specs. This warranty does not relate to any kind of damages resulting from an all-natural disaster or from an intentional and/or negligible act on the component of the purchaser, proprietor of the structure, installer or any kind of third party. GrandCay Cobbled, Sahara & James River (Sahara is unique order only) Eagle Bay pavers with dimpled or distinctive surfacesEpicStone, GrandCay, CircleStone, SF Rima, CottageStone, Chatham Stone and also EssexStonehave low and high points on the surface which lend a more naturally visual attract the pavers.

As a result, these paver kinds need to constantly be compacted with place compactors that include a safety floor covering or various other tool in between the plate compactor as well as the surface area of Eagle Bay pavers. This system will certainly aid to ensure that paver surface area scuffing is maintained to a minimum. These safety mediums consist of: rubber matting, slim carpeting, Mirafi 500X or cardboard.

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For further info on interlocking concrete paver details, technical information as well as advised building techniques, go to ICPI (Interlacing Concrete Sidewalk Institute) at http://www.icpi.org. Likewise, snow elimination tools must have the appropriate spacing, bumpers and also rubber blade guards to protect the surface of the pavers. Eagle Bay will not be delegated damages brought on by the misuse of compaction or snow elimination devices, leaving scuffmarks or burns on pavers.

Do not over apply deicing chemicals; follow the suggested dose. Do not use deicing chemicals instead of snow elimination yet reserve them for melting ice formed by freezing precipitation or freezing snow thaw. When making use of magnesium-based deicing chemicals, ensure the pavement is extensively cleaned in the springtime, as these deicers will remain to chemically degrade all sorts of concrete sidewalk throughout the year.

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Additionally, usage ICPI recommended sand jointing products to reduce water infiltration into the pavers. This will certainly also aid keep salts from entering and also collecting in the jointing and bed https://www.platinumpavingnj.com/ linen sand that can at some point weaken the pavers. ICPI also advises appropriate pavement slopes (commonly a minimum of 2%) to help with surface water drain and also to assist eliminate deicing materials.

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beatmyaudio · 4 years

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I Think They Like Me Song Lyrics – Dem Franchize Boyz Featuring Jermaine Dupri Da Brat And Bow Wow

I Think They Like Me Song Lyrics

I Think They Like Me Song Lyrics From Popular Hollywood Artist Dem Franchize Boyz Featuring Jermaine Dupri Da Brat And Bow Wow from Album.

This song is sung by singer ” Dem Franchize Boyz Featuring Jermaine Dupri Da Brat And Bow Wow ” in Year 2006.

Lyrics of I Think They Like Me :

in background yup scratch 1 2 3 as this is plain to see i go by the name of jermaine dupri dopeman fresh in the place to be and uhhchorus ohh i think they like me x16jd oh i think they like me when they heard me on the other one so its only right that i hit you with another one repeat 2xverse 1 yea these niggaz like me haters want to fight me yea these niggaz mad cuz i came up over night b yea i switched it up i got 9 kuffed tightly so you betta do the right thing like spike lee yep im superclean rock jeans wit a white tee niggaz round here soft but like niggaz want to bite me if you had some figures you would be just like me yea these niggaz mad cuz i shining like a light b niggaz talking bout yep in there muthafuckin throwback it aint real you know dats muhammadz where dey sold that we stepping on these niggaz like a muthafuckin door mat when i hit the scene they take pictures call me kodak these hoes goin crazy like think they need some prozac we the hottest thing in tha market and you no dat yo bitch chose us and she dont want to go back we stackin big faces cuz we still spending throwbacksjd now when i do it its something like thrilla and manilla man known as a killa man fresh from the dealer man so so niggas aint no crew illa than 10 acres of land and i got about a million dollars worth of cars in my front yard im from a place in atl where young niggas stomp hard ooo i think they like me when they heard me on the other one so its only right that i hit you with another one remix we get busy over here no sleep niggas stay up on they grizzie over here we young young we fly fly and we gon stay flashy till the day that we diechorusverse 2 they dont want 2 fight me im snatching ya ass up first nigga act up first nigga get bust majestic gettin shredded while im twirlin n switchin up tshirt stravaganza franchize the white tee boyz self made self paid we lounge around in our white tee ashy black shirt well get down in ya brown tee muhammed throwback whod sport a jersey by ali and if he make one hell naw dat dont excite me im all about my cash ride around wit a nice peace ear piece icy they straight up like me you heard pimpin playa they shine so brightly dont stand so close vision blurs when ice blings respect my whole squad kno you cant even touch us cuz role out the red carpet high 5 and show us love carry barretas count cheddar we transedda im a franchize niggga have a mil or bettada brat check it out 60644694 blow dro with the windows up on duece fours purple candy paint brand new think i aint same chick same click mo bricks in the bank no now no hoe rounds no down like brat it aint no showdown for no crown im holding that face all over vh paid great till this day been in love with the mic since run dmc walk this way talk this way cause im gangsta a chitowns legend im not ordinary people its a star in yo presents so icy that my earlobes hurt but what its worth dont test me i got the four fitfth under the skirt thick in the thighs can tuck that i stay on my grind i buss back if i must act i empty the sack its b to the rat trust that im crazy jd pays me im such acting ladybow wow im bow weezy prince of the otown just got the wheels clean so im riding slow now im in a fast car something like a nascar if you wanna know how much it cost you should ask pa as far as the rocks in chain i dropped some change its easy for me to copped them thangs and i dont stop i got rocks in rings you know the same size as a boxing ring swimming pool in the front and the back yard i aint got to act hard im under 21 with a black card yea i know that was kind of a low blow but the dough for the so so dont come slowchorusjd oh i think they like me when they heard me on the other one so its only right that i hit you with another one repeat 2x

I Think They Like Me Song Lyrics

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pendesvoyage · 6 years

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Midas Touch (Chapter 1)

"Kiss me."

Kris' heart pounded hard in her chest. Her breathing felt ragged and she couldn't seem to keep her blood from rushing to her toes. He cupped her face in his two hands. His big, soft hands. She unconsciously leaned into the touch with a small smile.

"Please, kiss me. I've been waiting to kiss you for ages."

His voice was so convincing. And this was something Kristalyn has been dreaming of since she found out what kisses were. She nodded and leaned up towards his lips. He smiled and pressed his lips to hers. Sparks flew. Butterflies in her stomach. The whole lot. She was flying and swimming and tasting and kissing. He ran his hand down her arm gently, his fingers finding their way down her jacket sleeve. She was so caught up in the way he was opening her mouth with his lips that she barely even felt it when his fingertips brushed against her wrist, dipping just under the cuff of her warm glove. But she did feel him go stiff, his limbs melding into heavy bricks. His lips stopped moving and she pulled back with dread painted across her features.

"No. No no," she pleaded even though she knew it was useless. "No, please, no no no." She put a shaky hand to his face and felt the cold, smooth surface flecked with shimmering gold. "God, no. I'm sorry." Tears rippled down her face, twinkling their sunset color as they trickled over her flushed cheeks and off her chin. She kissed him one more time. He didn't taste like anything now- because gold doesn't have a taste. Her feet were stepping back before she knew it and soon she was turned away from her first kiss and running down the New York streets into the dark where color was muted and gold didn't shine.

***

Kris startled awake, shooting up in her bed. She looked down at her hands, covered with shear white gloves, tied tight at the wrist with ribbon. She reached up to her face and felt the tears that she thought she'd only dreamt. When she brought her hand back in front of her face her gloves were wet with golden flakes of color. Her sadness turned to anger like it always did when she remembered, kicking off the blankets and pushing to her feet. She swung her hand forward and knocked the lamp off her bedside table. It crashed to the ground and the lampshade crumbled in on itself, but the light bulb still burned, filling the room with a golden glow. The entire room was washed with the color and she wanted to rip the walls down at the sight.

She turned her anger to the dimly lit lamp, "You think that's gold? I could show you gold," she poked herself in the chest and spat at the object while she screamed, "I know gold!" Suddenly her body felt tired and weak as she slumped to the carpet and wrapped her arms around her knees. "I could show you," she repeated softly to no one.

This was her what, third? Fourth? Place to live in five years. Ever since she woke up in her warm bed at her childhood home with what looked like hands dipped in luxurious gold paint. At first she tried to wipe it off on the sheets. When it didn't clean off, she went to the sink and tried soap and water. When that didn't work she ran downstairs to find her mom making breakfast in the kitchen and held her hands out in front of her like they weren't even hers. She'd begged her mom for help getting it off and that was when she committed her first murder. Her mom had reached out to take her hands and when those long, delicate fingers wrapped around her palm the gold spread across her skin and coated her body until she was frozen, statuesque. Her mom shimmered like she'd been washed in golden watercolor. Not as vibrant and metallic as her own hands but shining nonetheless. Kristalyn tried to pull her hands out from her mother's grasp, but it held firm. She wrenched and twisted until her hands squeezed through the holes and she fell backwards a few steps.

Her father came in a few minutes later to find Kris staring at what she'd done and he reached around her to hug her and calm her tears but she flailed and and swatted his hands away, making him freeze in place as well. She screamed and cried for hours, hitting the two golden figures and begging God to help her. By the end of the day she had a backpack of things and an urge to flee. She hadn't seen her Pennsylvanian small town since. And her brother, that was away for school when she ran, got the call that something tragic had happened to his family. He'd tried calling her a hundred times, but she never answered his worried voicemails. She assumed he thought she was dead. Or maybe he knew she did it, she killed them and fled. Maybe he hated her and wished she was dead. She'd never know.

She'd stuffed her hands in her jacket and refused to be within ten feet of any living thing. She couldn't take the bus, for fear someone would sit next to her. Instead she walked and walked until she reached the closest bank. She went straight to an ATM and withdrawled every penny she'd been saving for her friend's Spring Break road trip in a couple months. Hotel after hotel until she found an apartment that a bunch of college kids were renting. It lasted a while, until she hooked up with one of the girls in the house. They'd taken her glove off and meant to lead her hand downwards, but instead was caught mid motion and frozen in time. She ran off in the dead of night, taking only her backpack of stuff and the money she'd hidden in a box under her bed from her part-time gig.

Next was New Jersey. People were wilder there than she'd ever met. They were all strange, so the fact that she wore the same pair of gloves everyday didn't faze them. She made friends fast that let her move in, lucky she had a quick mouth and pretty smile. She got along swimmingly with everyone but one guy. Mick. They fought regularly; she put it down to him being an asshole. One night he was in a particularly sour mood, and wouldn't let her be. They scuffled and he ripped off her glove, stumbling backwards and reaching for her instinctually so he wouldn't fall. She withdrew her hand sharply and he fell to the ground. She didn't kill him, but it scared her so much that she left that night.

Then she figured maybe big cities weren't such a good idea. Too many people. So she took a bus out until she saw more fields than buildings. Turned out, New York isn't just bright lights and cigarettes. She came to an abandoned farmhouse and settled in with her thick blanket and not much else. A couple weeks later an elderly couple found her and took her in. She worked on the farm and earned her keep happily. They'd lived too long to be bothered that this seemingly harmless girl preferred to keep her hands warm, even in the sweltering heat of summer on a farm. The woman even took to knitting and sewing Kris a pair of gloves every chance she got. She'd leave them on her dresser every once and a while. Kris would find them and smile a little more than she usually did each time. She thought maybe she'd never leave here. Grow old and take care of the farm until she left this Earth. But when the husband died, the woman couldn't care for the farm, even with Kris' help and had to sell. She offered to take Kris with her where she was moving into town, but Kris didn't feel right invading of her new life. Instead they parted ways with a careful hug and fond smiles.

New York City seemed like her best option. She hated the idea of so many people, but if nothing else, she wouldn't be noticed. She'd worked hard for her pay, selling jams and cheeses at the market near the farm, but had nothing to spend the money on, so she had enough to pick out an apartment of her own. Finally some privacy. Maybe this was what she needed. Now, she was twenty-two and had an entire bag inside her backpack filled with gloves of different colors, lengths, and designs. Since she got there about seven months ago, she'd landed a job as a help line operator and was living fairly comfortably. She didn't need to leave her apartment for work so she could seclude herself.

But then he'd found her three months into her life there and stolen her heart. He didn't push her, didn't even try to hug her when they went out. It's like he could just tell she wasn't ready. Most men would run without the prospect of physical contact, but he was so patient and willing. It took two month for her to warm up to touching him. She made sure to wear extra long gloves around him. The first time she wrapped her arms around his waist, he'd froze. She freaked and scrambled away like he'd burned her, afraid she'd somehow touched him with her bare hands. But when she looked up at him he was smiling. He'd pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her shoulders while she buried her head in his chest. From that moment they were inseparable. He never asked about the gloves, said he didn't care why. They'd cuddle together and watch movies, eat greasy pizza, find new music. But she rarely let him take her out, she never let him sleep over, and she wouldn't let him kiss her. She just wasn't ready.

Until she was. He'd convinced her to go out. Made a reservation and everything. He let her order whatever she wanted and paid for it all before taking her to Central Park for ice cream. They walked until they found a spot with no crowd, holding hands, arms swaying gently between them. She was nervous holding his hand because she wasn't wearing her normal tall gloves. She'd gotten complacent and lazy in his company. Something she'd regret for the rest of her life, but she couldn't be bothered to worry about that when he stopped her in the middle of the park and asked her to kiss him. She always had the kiss of death.

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