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Stories
Deforested
A boy enters a college fraternity, but is coerced to follow the rules by the residents and his own family.
Author(s): mrsimple | 5 Warnings!
Content Keywords | Status: Completed | To Disqus!
MyReviews: 0

Chapter Two : Toothache
Posted: 2018-10-31 21:01:02 | Updated: 2018-11-01 08:37:30
Words: 681


I felt the car slow down before we pulled up in the driveway. That is an odd sensation to experience.

I'll explain.

We slowed down for the floods, drive-thru, stop lights and signs, and even for those sharp turns. Yet, I wake up when we slow down close to home. It is like something in my subconscious rang a proximity alarm.

Soon as we pull up, I pull up on the seat. When at a stop, I hop out, turn around to grab the bag and drink for my mom, and round the car to struggle a couple fingers in the door for its handle before letting my mom out.

She can work on getting the front door unlocked and open. My hands are too full for that juggling act.

When inside, I deposit her meal on top of the bed's foot. Her drink ends up by the computer she has set up. Yeah, she's a bed-troll who plucks away at the keyboard before dropping dead on the bed.

I head out of her room and find my solace in the one across. It isn't my bedroom, but my gallery. I have a number of projects. None complete. I can't find it in me to work on something I know is coming out wrong.

I don't trash them, but they are still cluttering up space. Hence, a gallery.

My room doesn't look much different, except there is a bed there, but I seldom use it. I prefer using the couch out in the living room. This gives me a view of the sun shining in when I am suppose to be awake.

Not to mention, I never miss deliveries this way. They ring the doorbell, there is no excuse of no one being at the door. I don't have a car.

My mom does and I borrow it. If that happens to be the case, she's always at home, and still the delivery guy is left without excuses. I've enjoyed seeing their expressions change when I explain it to them simply, "You never knocked, let alone rang a bell," right when they are trying to walk from the house with that damn sticky-note on my door.

Why does it always seem like everywhere I go, there is someone, somebody, trying to fuck me over?

Well, no one at home to do that.

I crash on the couch for a little bit. I was planning to sleep, but my mom calls out to me.

"Are you packed?" Is the call I dread.

"No... Tomorrow?" I ask, cross my fingers, and wink some sleep back in just in case she approves.

"Get packing," nope, time to wake up and get those bags filled.

For the next couple of hours, that is my duty, a luggage filled with my clothes for the next half of this year. Everything else will be credited as I go.

Afterwards, I make a landing on the couch once more for a good night's sleep.

| | |

Oh God, that was not a good night's sleep. I have a terrible headache and my jaw is swollen.

I did lose a tooth.

My mom already made a dentist appointment to get the crown fixed and for any other damages to be x-rayed in the visit.

Again, I excused this for rolling in the mud, but I had to blemish it with slipping and cracking my jaw off a slippery rock.

So, missing one molar in the far back of my mouth. They gave me a nice injection that could last a few hours, but the moment it does, I feel like my head is splitting in half.

Of course, I can't take my luggage to the school now. No heavy lifting with a wound in my mouth.

The only thing my mom ends up having me do that day is take a shower. Apparently, she was rather livid to find out I had gone straight to sleep last night after my 'mudslide.'

After that, I crashed on the couch. Eating that day wasn't exactly on the top of my list either.


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