Kent smacked his own forehead with the palm of his hand. The sound of it punctuated his frustration. “Oh you’re right. My bad.” The tone of his voice was biting and caustic with sarcasm. “Thanks little bro. For waking me up in the middle of the night to bail your piss soaked ass out of jail so you can compliment my continuing good looks. Real considerate of you.”
He charged ahead towards his car while his brother mounted a weak defense of his chosen activities that night. Kent scoffed and snorted at each point grumbling curses under his breath. Something like “Real fuckin’ nice brother I got here. Real fuckin’ joy mom and dad.”
Kent moved around to the passenger's side of the car and opened the door wide. He grabbed Holden by the upper arm with a grip that meant business. It was meant to bruise -- not that one would necessarily be able to see the bruising given his brother's tattoo sleeves. Manhandling his brother, Kent effectively stuffed the man into the seat. “Roll the window down and stick your head out if you’re gonna puke you shitass.” He instructed and slammed the door shut.
He entered the driver's side and cranked the engine. Kent put the air conditioning on full arctic blast although the evening was cool enough to ride without. Although he’d instructed Holden to do so, Kent took initiative and rolled the passenger window down as a reminder that if chunks were to be blown they would be blown out the window please.
Despite the fact that his brother’s stomach may have been queasy from the drinking, that did not stop Kent from driving aggressively as a sublimation for his anger. He accelerated an excessive amount for reverse and whipped the car out of the parking spot. “How about something to soak up the barrel of alcohol you drank?” The offering of food was less a suggestion and more a warning that Kent would shove greasy french fries down his brother’s throat to sober him up if he had to.
Kent pulled into the nearest fast food drive-thru and ordered several burgers and large fries and water, water, water. The car idled in the parking lot as Kent distributed some of the hot foodstuffs and a bottle of water forcibly at Holden.
“Eat.” He ordered and shoved some fries into his own mouth as if demonstrating. “Guess what motherfucker, you have to stay with me while your legal shit gets worked out. I’m essentially your guardian right now. Doesn’t that sound like oh so much fun?” He mocked and proceeded to eat some more of his feelings about the matter. He was not in a hurry to get home and announce this to his wife. Kent would allow her another, oh, half hour or so of peaceful sleep while they ate greasy food before he’d take Holden home and hit her with the bad news.
He charged ahead towards his car while his brother mounted a weak defense of his chosen activities that night. Kent scoffed and snorted at each point grumbling curses under his breath. Something like “Real fuckin’ nice brother I got here. Real fuckin’ joy mom and dad.”
Kent moved around to the passenger's side of the car and opened the door wide. He grabbed Holden by the upper arm with a grip that meant business. It was meant to bruise -- not that one would necessarily be able to see the bruising given his brother's tattoo sleeves. Manhandling his brother, Kent effectively stuffed the man into the seat. “Roll the window down and stick your head out if you’re gonna puke you shitass.” He instructed and slammed the door shut.
He entered the driver's side and cranked the engine. Kent put the air conditioning on full arctic blast although the evening was cool enough to ride without. Although he’d instructed Holden to do so, Kent took initiative and rolled the passenger window down as a reminder that if chunks were to be blown they would be blown out the window please.
Despite the fact that his brother’s stomach may have been queasy from the drinking, that did not stop Kent from driving aggressively as a sublimation for his anger. He accelerated an excessive amount for reverse and whipped the car out of the parking spot. “How about something to soak up the barrel of alcohol you drank?” The offering of food was less a suggestion and more a warning that Kent would shove greasy french fries down his brother’s throat to sober him up if he had to.
Kent pulled into the nearest fast food drive-thru and ordered several burgers and large fries and water, water, water. The car idled in the parking lot as Kent distributed some of the hot foodstuffs and a bottle of water forcibly at Holden.
“Eat.” He ordered and shoved some fries into his own mouth as if demonstrating. “Guess what motherfucker, you have to stay with me while your legal shit gets worked out. I’m essentially your guardian right now. Doesn’t that sound like oh so much fun?” He mocked and proceeded to eat some more of his feelings about the matter. He was not in a hurry to get home and announce this to his wife. Kent would allow her another, oh, half hour or so of peaceful sleep while they ate greasy food before he’d take Holden home and hit her with the bad news.
Bitch, I'm limited edition.
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Bad Apple [private] - by Kat - 09-23-2016, 11:24 AM
RE: Bad Apple [private] - by Kat - 09-23-2016, 01:05 PM
RE: Bad Apple [private] - by saronym - 09-25-2016, 05:34 PM
RE: Bad Apple [private] - by Kat - 09-26-2016, 07:54 PM
RE: Bad Apple [private] - by saronym - 09-28-2016, 09:17 PM
RE: Bad Apple [private] - by Kat - 10-15-2016, 09:43 PM
RE: Bad Apple [private] - by saronym - 10-22-2016, 01:13 PM