Thursday, December 8, 2011

Luxuriously Linguistic: Don't Fuck With My Brita

Okay. So, this was written last semester around finals week.. I realize now how violent it sounds.. that's my disclaimer. So, don't think I'm a crazy person, please. This is one more post written in the same style as the first Luxuriously Linguistic post. Enjoy.

I violently jostle my key into the ill-fitting lock and twist the door handle with rage. Only the sound of the door slamming open carries through the air as I stare at the back of my roommates’s abhorred, kinky Jew-fro.

My Brita, drier than the savannah, the garbage, more overflowed than weeping eyes.

In one quick second, I snap. Chin in full bottom jut, eyes full of fire and blinded by rage, I “EEEHH” like one who has just had a stiletto driven through his foot, and my roommate jumps in terrified response. He squints and covers his face as I scream my most uncensored insults and simultaneously screech like an eagle, and make the face of the fat girl on Glee when she pretends to be a vampire.

Like lightning, my arms are shot at his head and my clawed and bloody hands dig into his scalp, ripping out sand-dry, frizzy curls as they clench. He screams like that of a girl without a parpouse (Irish accent) and stands up to make an attempted escape.

My hands still in his hair as he tries to run, he immediately falls down and his head is jerked back violently. Instantly, I am upon him. His face is simply disgusting. With one last EEHH I slam his head into the wall. He let’s out a freakish grunt like a wild boar and his head recoils from the wall, bouncing off it in a nasty whiplash.

His unconscious body is limp as a whet noodle. Frothing from my mouth I throw his stale cheerios and almonds on his face and jump out of my first floor window, glass shattering in an icy tail of escape.

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