Making a Mess
One day your best fiend who is locked in the suburbs gets released and comes over to your urban pad, aka your mom? house. She and you are very bored, very hyper, and very into blasting the Hole Pretty On the Inside CD you had fought each other for in the store earlier that day. After the first few tracks sink in the reality of screaming and thrashing is ensnared in the soft matter of your skulls, and before you know it the urge to Fuck Shit Up is completely overwhelming.
You turn to that which is closest to you your stuffed animal collection. Why do you still have these. They're kitschy at best, and mortifying at worst; especially when your friends who are over 18 come over to pick you up, see them, and worry that you're too young to be smoking pot and spraypainting with them after all.
You toss a Pound Puppy to your BFF and pick up another, taking the soft fabric between your fingers you pull. An extremely satisfying low pitched ripping noise comes as the head and ears separate from the torso and legs. Enthralled you stuff your hand inside, take the stuffing out and pitch it across your room. It falls too slowly to keep up, and you pick up a pathetic orange muppety looking creature and remove it's limbs. The chest pops open and gnarly plastic Styrofoam beads tumble out onto your bed. You jump on them for awhile and dump the rest on the floor, skidding slightly as you reach for the next toy.
When you grab a crusty Vermont Teddy Bear Factory bear with a triangular head and smooth black plastic button eyes that's punker than you based on how dirty it is, you have a moment of remorse and brush it under your bed with a sweep of stuffing and cut up magazine pages from yesterdays collage project.
The barrage continues and you and she take the dusty bits of your childhood and destroy them: the red fun fur pillow with arms is exploded; the cupcake that you drew a mouth on to practice kissing , then added a mole to match the face of a boy who you liked, is dissected; the small blue friend of Rainbow Brite loses its face, then its guts. All this and you two are jumping on the bed, smiling and laughing.
Your mom comes home from working her second job of the day and finds tracks of fluff going from your bedroom to the front door, you?e not home.
To be out with your youth group at the local amusement park, go here.
To go get high with yr dirty friends, go here
Want to be random and free? Go out onto the internet.
