#but this IS a snippet from a longer somethin somethin im workin on!!

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

Um um maybe you remembered and I'm just being inpatient but dont forget about tidbit tuesday

Sorry if I was just being inpatient

blog runner with the worst memory known to man try to keep a consistent upload challenge: impossible (in other words guess who forgot it was tuesday again) (thank you god send angel light of my life)

Darry’s got a death grip on my bicep ‘cause it’s the closest I’ll let him get to holdin’ my hand like I’m a toddler. Though I know he’s about to stop carin’ about my sensibilities ‘n probably wack me a good one too if the way his fingers are diggin’ into my shirt sleeve are anythin’ to go by. It really ain’t my fault. He’s picked up Mama’s old habit of runnin’ into people ‘n just standin’ there shootin’ the shit for twenty minutes. 

Today’s victim (other than me) is Tim, havin’ had the misfortune of runnin’ into Dar when I’d been tryin’ to plead Soda ‘n I’s case that fish sticks were vile (‘n really not winnin’ that case at all). I try to twist out of Dar’s grip again ‘n he knocks my head with the heel of his hand without even lookin’ away.

“Knock it off, Pone. Sorry, what were you sayin’ Tim?” I scowl, lean forward enough I know Dar can see it out a the corner of his eye. He pointedly ignores me. 

“Naw, you’re good. Kid brothers, huh.” But he shoots me a wink so I only half-bother to roll my eyes. “I was sayin’ I got this guy rollin’ into town in the next day or so. Needs, uh, a place to lay low.”

He shoots Darry a pointed look ‘n Darry narrows his eyes, glances down at me, back at Tim. Asks him somethin’ without sayin’ nothin’. I feel Dar pull me a little closer to his side without thinkin’ about it, finally take his hand off my arm, ‘n lay it around my shoulders instead. I shiver in my track shorts as someone opens one of the nearby freezers, grabs out the last pack of fish sticks. This time I keep my triumphant grin to myself. 

“I don’t got details right now. But it ain’t, like, a murder wrap or nothin’.” He lowers his voice, leans back against the big commercial fridges ‘n shifts around the too-big jacket. I recognize it as somethin’ Two does when he’s shopliftin’. But I keep my mouth shut. Ain’t my business that I can see the corner of a bag of dry pasta peekin’ from the inside pocket. “It cool if I tell him about y’all’s couch?”

Darry runs his free hand up the back of his neck ‘n sighs. “Sure. But he ain’t allowed to bring no trouble with him, got it?” 

“Yeah, Curtis. Since when have I ever brought trouble?” He puts his hands up plactingly ‘n Dar snorts a laugh at him. 

“Sure, Shepard. You ain’t never brought trouble to nobody.” ‘N he grabs the edge of Tim’s jacket cooly, readjusts it, ‘n in one smooth move, shoves the pasta back where it can’t be seen against Tim’s side.