Thursday, April 30, 2009

random intro to a story.

            There was only one more bottle of Scotch in the cellar and that wouldn’t be enough for Brianna tonight. She planned on drinking and replacing what she’d stolen out of James’s stash so she wouldn’t get caught again. Brianna went into James’s room down the hall and opened the creaky cupboard above his washroom sink to find nothing but Advil and cough syrup. She would have to use her own money for this one. She then tiptoed out of the house trying not to wake Jim, the annoying Jack Russell Terrier that slept underneath the stairs, and shut the door quietly without locking it. She wouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes.

            The sunlight beamed on her face that had been cooped up for too long exposing the bags under her eyes and the bruises on her arms. She couldn’t drive to the liquor store because James had taken her set of keys away last night when he threatened to grind them into her skin if she didn’t sleep with him. She didn’t sleep with him and her thighs got the best of her set of keys as a result. The thought of the pain she felt the night before gave her the chills and made her want to be sick, but her strength blocked it out of her memory and she started walking down the street. The liquor store wasn’t too far, just past the last house and to the left. How convenient.

            Brianna opened the door and heard that annoying dinging sound that made the place seem like a variety store. Because of the noise, the one cashier turned to look at her.

            “Hey, ma’am. Welcome to Bunghole Liquors,” she said in her shrill voice. Brianna attempted to greet her with a smile but it turned out to be more of a disappointed face if anything. Brianna knew exactly where the Scotch was so she went over and grabbed two bottles. She walked over to the register where the employee said, “Identification please.”

            “You gotta be kiddin’ me,” Briana said as she reached into her back pocket. The cashier’s face dropped.

            “I’m sorry, Ma’am. It’s the law,” the cashier said.

            “I’m also 22,” Brianna snapped back as she handed over her driver’s license.

            “Alright, thank you very much. That’ll be $50.00 please,” the cashier ordered.

            “Pathetic,” Brianna said and handed over her last crumpled bill. She grabbed the two bottles before the cashier could bag them and hurried out of the store and stuffed them in her sweater…

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