Her Maserati
leFrown
- For every 99 times
- You looked me in the eye,
- You looked me in the eye
- And swore you weren't lying
- Well, I was so blind
- I never saw the signs
- You've caused enough of my suffering, oh
- 2012. The year that is the tell all - end all, extinction of man kind. If it wasn't a biblical apocalypse, the world was doing a wonderful job destroying itself through civil wars or invading forces.Technology had improved, and was said to be at its peak. It was available to all who could afford it - who, at this point at time, came few and far between. Those who were luxuriously rich took their technology to Cuba, in hopes to better alliances or help the citizens. Even still, not everyone received such wonderful treatment.
"It's strange, you know?"
Imalia seized the opportunity to look around the small, shabby apartment complex. A beat up coach was propped against the furthest wall of the room, considering that was the wall with the giant hole in it. That hole was their secret stash - stolen goods or whatever illegal items they could get their hands on. The window on the other side was cracked in three places, probably from ricochet bullets or some punk throwing rocks. Used car parts were stacked near the door of the small living space, haphazardly thrown in a junk pile from constant use. Linoleum peeled away from the walls, making it look like the floor was caving in on itself. And that was just the living room.
"We're down here, pretty much rotting, while those highfalutin rich folk sit in there - in their Benz's or whatever, doing whatever it is they like to do on a Saturday night, and here we are, rotting!" Charles ranted, pacing back and forth in from of the window, tugging at his tight red shirt for breathing room. Imalia could have laughed at how much his shirt resembled his face at the moment.
"Yep.", was Imalia's only response. Not that she didn't love complaining, because she knew she could go on for hours, but it was just too hot, and she was just too tired. She slicked back the sticky brown hair from her face, huffing at the amount of energy that took. Talking about the rich people only looked out for themselves and their money really boiled her blood, but since they didn't have any air conditioning, she would have to wait.
It wasn't anything personal, she knew that. They were just out protecting what little they could cling to in a world in turmoil. She just wished her world didn't have to be in turmoil. She couldn't have begun to guess that within the next few minutes, things would ultimately go from bad to worse.
(i hope this is an ok beginning! D: just lemme know if i need to change anything!)
Her Maserati
[[OOC: I liked your intro, silly goose.]]
I want to take you home.
I won't do you no harm.
You have to be mine.
All mine.
"Yes, we have the best health care, but most people are dying on our streets.""They don't care. They never cared." The bartender grabbed across the bar to the scuff of Lamont's collar, ending with Lamont's hand clenched on his arm. Lamont quickly stood, there was a look of slight anger on his face as the bartender stood back from Lamont, "well..." Trying his best to change subjects from the brawl that could stir, "erm. What are you gonna do for this evening?" His voice came out like a drunken slur as Lamont chuckled lightly, fake remorse always made him smile.
"I am going to live." With a light smirk, Lamont departed the cell hole of a bar they were in. Still holding on to the plastic cup with the nation's capital drink, as he took the stroll to his work. The work that beat him up every night, the work that made him the prize target for the rich to throw money to gamble, the work that he hated and loved. This work was fighting, one of the biggest crazes in Cuba since the sixties and with his tall bulky built, there were people who believed he was made for it.
Walking into the overcrowded basketball court that had weeds growing up from the floor. It was dirty, as many knew from coming in there during the day. The floor was cracked under the ring they fashioned above it. Slipping his shoes off as he found a better pair near the front of the establishment. Swift movements as he grabbed the shoes and departed toward the back.
"Stew!" He laughed as he ran behind someone, embracing them in his arms. This figure was hooded until they looked toward Lamont. It was a woman, he was four years her senior, but they looked oddly alike. "Now, I told you to stay with Clara." Fixing the stout woman's hair in a parental way as he continued to hold her. This endogenous, smart a** of a woman was the reason he got through each day. Stew was Lamont's family, the only one left.
I won't do you no harm.
You have to be mine.
All mine.
There are six ingredients to a Cuban Mojito, all six ingredients have to be added at the right time and cannot be taken advantage of. As Lamont watched the liquid seep into together with ease, his mind just flooded with the corruption around his home. The corruption that would be taken care of if treated in this manner.
"Yes, we have the best health care, but most people are dying on our streets.""They don't care. They never cared." The bartender grabbed across the bar to the scuff of Lamont's collar, ending with Lamont's hand clenched on his arm. Lamont quickly stood, there was a look of slight anger on his face as the bartender stood back from Lamont, "well..." Trying his best to change subjects from the brawl that could stir, "erm. What are you gonna do for this evening?" His voice came out like a drunken slur as Lamont chuckled lightly, fake remorse always made him smile.
"I am going to live." With a light smirk, Lamont departed the cell hole of a bar they were in. Still holding on to the plastic cup with the nation's capital drink, as he took the stroll to his work. The work that beat him up every night, the work that made him the prize target for the rich to throw money to gamble, the work that he hated and loved. This work was fighting, one of the biggest crazes in Cuba since the sixties and with his tall bulky built, there were people who believed he was made for it.
Walking into the overcrowded basketball court that had weeds growing up from the floor. It was dirty, as many knew from coming in there during the day. The floor was cracked under the ring they fashioned above it. Slipping his shoes off as he found a better pair near the front of the establishment. Swift movements as he grabbed the shoes and departed toward the back.
"Stew!" He laughed as he ran behind someone, embracing them in his arms. This figure was hooded until they looked toward Lamont. It was a woman, he was four years her senior, but they looked oddly alike. "Now, I told you to stay with Clara." Fixing the stout woman's hair in a parental way as he continued to hold her. This endogenous, smart a** of a woman was the reason he got through each day. Stew was Lamont's family, the only one left.
After all of the years past.
You're still in that house over yonder.
You're still in that house over yonder.
leFrown
- For every 99 times
- You looked me in the eye,
- You looked me in the eye
- And swore you weren't lying
- Well, I was so blind
- I never saw the signs
- You've caused enough of my suffering, oh
- Imalia peeled herself up from the chair, making a sickly tearing sound as her skin separated from the faux leather cushions. Charles muttered and paced, occasionally looking out the window to check and see what others were doing on the outside. Charles had been on edge since his 'permanent unemployment' from the auto shop down aways. Either he was sick, or Imalia was, so he constantly ran in and out of his job, trying as hard as he could to make ends meat. But so were a lot of able bodied young men, who didn't have the baggage of a sickly little sister in tow.
She rose from her prone position on the couch, her stomach rumbling. It was time for something to eat, dinner time or not. Not that she exactly kept normal eating habits, ever since the kitchen table was stacked with books for school, the Mathematics for dummies on top was gathering dust. She swiped her finger across the surface, leaving a large clear streak across the cover.
"You want anything?" Imalia called from the kitchen, opening the barren fridge, and pretended to rummage through invisible food stuffs to hide her despair. Out of food again, she sighed to herself. Yet again, it was nobody's fault, but still it wouldn't hurt for at least one thing in her life to be right.
"Yeah, like we got anything." Oh, so he knows too. Not that he wouldn't, because he went in there as much as she did, but he could have warned her first. She could always pick up something at the small food store down the street. That required leaving the house, which required getting dressed for public.
- And after much tugging and pulling to get her jeans across her humid legs, she was ready to go, albeit unnaturally exhausted.
"I'm going out. Lend me your wallet." That was her way of asking politely. She reached out her hand, in a 'gimme-gimme' way.
"Of course," He laughed, tossing her wallet. She fumbled, finally slapping it down on her leg. Maybe I'll treat myself to a carton of cigarettes if I make it back, Imalia thought bitterly, finally leaving the house to go the the food store. Maybe she'd even stroll around the neighborhood. Who knew?
Her Maserati
[[
]]
]]I want to take you home.
I won't do you no harm.
You have to be mine.
All mine.
With a brief laugh from the hand's owner, the epitome of a bouncer, "you have ten minutes then you're going against Crazy Eyes." With a large smirk, the bouncer tried to liven the siblings up with reenactments of last time. "See? He ducked, thinking you were going over here....and you went BAM! Dude, it was epic." With the final work, Lamont rolled his eyes to the many allusions of trying to be American, another person who believes Cuba can be what it was in the fifties. Was he going to quote Disaster Movie now or start to sing Singing in the Rain?
Finally the bouncer departed after a hoopla of laughter and showing off, with Lamont's sister shortly behind him. Lamont opened the door at the back of the building, taking out a cigarette out of the three-sizes too big hooded jacket. It fell upon his bare body as did his jeans, which were also too large for him. With a small contented sigh, he lit the cigarette. Now eight minutes, he was going to waste all of the time need be. He leaned his head against the cold cemented outside walls as his voice opened for who ever wanted to hear him scat.
"Vision of lifelong wasted meaning,
explaining, please expand upon
Clearing out the closets and nothing’s what we need to build
In the first place you’re all right the way you are,
the way you are
Grabbing all success begins where you thought it would all end
Don’t complain, just clear away
Take off your shades and put them away"
I won't do you no harm.
You have to be mine.
All mine.
Lamont stood, holding this young woman in his arms. It was how he held onto his past, a very warm embrace but not too tight from holding it back. As they began to talk about why she wasn't where she should've been and why he was here again, there was an interruption. Upon Lamont's shoulder placed a hand, the way it clung to him felt like it seeped beneath his clothes. Lamont shooed his sister away as he turned to face his coach,
"I guess it's my turn. . ."With a brief laugh from the hand's owner, the epitome of a bouncer, "you have ten minutes then you're going against Crazy Eyes." With a large smirk, the bouncer tried to liven the siblings up with reenactments of last time. "See? He ducked, thinking you were going over here....and you went BAM! Dude, it was epic." With the final work, Lamont rolled his eyes to the many allusions of trying to be American, another person who believes Cuba can be what it was in the fifties. Was he going to quote Disaster Movie now or start to sing Singing in the Rain?
Finally the bouncer departed after a hoopla of laughter and showing off, with Lamont's sister shortly behind him. Lamont opened the door at the back of the building, taking out a cigarette out of the three-sizes too big hooded jacket. It fell upon his bare body as did his jeans, which were also too large for him. With a small contented sigh, he lit the cigarette. Now eight minutes, he was going to waste all of the time need be. He leaned his head against the cold cemented outside walls as his voice opened for who ever wanted to hear him scat.
"Vision of lifelong wasted meaning,
explaining, please expand upon
Clearing out the closets and nothing’s what we need to build
In the first place you’re all right the way you are,
the way you are
Grabbing all success begins where you thought it would all end
Don’t complain, just clear away
Take off your shades and put them away"
After all of the years past.
You're still in that house over yonder.
You're still in that house over yonder.
leFrown
I'm sayin' what else is there to do besides relax?
Let the problems in your mind become ancient artifacts.
Perhaps these raps can help you alleviate -- the things that's got you trippin' you watch me demonstrate -
First you ignore the nonsense and clear your conscience, let your pen touch the paper -- write verbs and consonants,
As the words become a sentence, you start to feelin' different -- the stress is out your mind you feel like the weight was lifted
Terrific I'm glad we had this time to discuss - I'm outro -- call me if you want to blaze one up.
Let the problems in your mind become ancient artifacts.
Perhaps these raps can help you alleviate -- the things that's got you trippin' you watch me demonstrate -
First you ignore the nonsense and clear your conscience, let your pen touch the paper -- write verbs and consonants,
As the words become a sentence, you start to feelin' different -- the stress is out your mind you feel like the weight was lifted
Terrific I'm glad we had this time to discuss - I'm outro -- call me if you want to blaze one up.
- "What in hell is that supposed to mean?!" an old man slammed his cane down on the cracking cement, glaring at the man barring his entry to the grocery store. The old man's face was drawn and paper thin, which made the dark, heavy circles under his eyes that much more prominent. Compared to the young man who insisted on keeping him out, the older looked like the picture of death.
"I'm sorry, sir, but those who are ill or have been ill in the past six weeks are not permitted to enter without proof of vaccination."
Imalia ducked away, sneaking around back to the loading dock. If the man saw her, in her current state, he'd probably dub her the plague bearer, and call the Meds after her. And being hauled away to some medical institute was not on her daily agenda. She noticed some crates near the loading entrance, and rummaged through the lower end. Usually, only simple goods were left out in the open, on top. But hidden between the boxes, under the crates and supplies, metal lidded boxes held good stuff. This time around though, they'd upped their security, actually placing a padlock near the four corners of the lid."Someone's been catching on", she mused quietly to herself, "Well, no one is going to miss a box of cereal and potato chips."
Unfortunately, someone was about to miss them, and a little too fast for he liking.
She had made it to the alley way, stuffing whatever she could under her shirt, making it look like she was having a square child. Behind her, the workers were rummaging through the boxes, in almost a sixth sense 'something-has-been-stolen' sort of way. She quickened her pace, but apparently they had already caught on.
"Hey, you there!" One of the workers called out to her, and by the heavy clunking sound he was making, he was running towards her. The hairs stood on the back of Imalia's neck, knowing that she would likely go to prison if caught stealing. The only way to prevent that was to not get caught. Adrenaline must have kicked in, because shortly thereafter, she had ran almost as fast as she did when she was healthy.
"I need to get this back to Charles - I need to get this back to Charles." She chanted, as if motivation to keep moving. Ducking a weaving through side streets, she passed what seemed to be a thousand leering eyes and questioning stares. Hopefully no one seen my face, she frowned in an after thought. Finally, she ducked into a back alley, nearly falling on the crate in exhaustion.
- Leaning against the wall, she tried to regain her breath, when she heard a voice rather close. Imalia panicked, thinking that someone had spotted her and was going to confront her...except the words weren't directed at her. She looked up. There stood a man, in perhaps one of the largest coats she'd ever seen. He held a cigarette between his fingers as he rhymed for anyone to hear.
The way he stood near the back door of the building caused her to wonder. Maybe he was sick too? Maybe they won't let him in because of that?
But, if he sees you, he could just turn around and tell someone he saw you with a small crate under your shirt. That's what you should be thinking about, not his state of health! Her inner conscious frowned.
That's if he even seen me! Or if he did...maybe he'll be nice and pretend he didn't?
Nobody's nice in this day and age, stupid girl. Her conscious hissed, mentally slapping her in the back of the head.
(ooc::: my brother was playing this song the other night, so i decided to do a quick change of my layout! D: - and most of this was word vomit, since I got a lot of ideas after helping a friend with her English essay. sorry!)
Her Maserati
[[OOC: I actually liked it. I love putting music into my work. What is that, by the way?]]
I want to take you home.
I won't do you no harm.
You have to be mine.
All mine.
Looking back to the woman, motioning for her to go within the doorway. His mind was wondering why he was doing this. He had a fight, there were people in the court that had much influence. If this woman was real trouble, was it smart to bring her to a place with ones that would pay for a disappearance.
Taking a long drag on his cigarette, looking down to his watch on his arm. Very large and bulky, clear that it shined in one day but with wear it has gotten run-down. The time was getting closer as his second hand spun around. He tried to settle down so if that group ever got here, he could be clear headed for their inane questions.
I won't do you no harm.
You have to be mine.
All mine.
Lamont got lost in his rhyme, moving his hands to the beat of his words. The way that each word trickled out of his lips, he was able to give his scat to the air as his hands played with it. Finally as he ended the last line, his eyebrow raised as he quickly was immersed into the drama around him. He heard the shouting and the rapid stray of steps coming toward him, until he saw the girl.
First thought was not to do a thing but as he saw her figure it was clear that she was sick and hungry.
"You," his voice was light as he opened the door with his heel. He still stood before the door but gave her enough room to go in. His attention returned to hear others running toward him. This drama made him want to continue scat, it was something he could feed off but he onlt had about five minutes until his match. Seven, if he could persuade the bouncer.First thought was not to do a thing but as he saw her figure it was clear that she was sick and hungry.
Looking back to the woman, motioning for her to go within the doorway. His mind was wondering why he was doing this. He had a fight, there were people in the court that had much influence. If this woman was real trouble, was it smart to bring her to a place with ones that would pay for a disappearance.
Taking a long drag on his cigarette, looking down to his watch on his arm. Very large and bulky, clear that it shined in one day but with wear it has gotten run-down. The time was getting closer as his second hand spun around. He tried to settle down so if that group ever got here, he could be clear headed for their inane questions.
After all of the years past.
You're still in that house over yonder.
You're still in that house over yonder.
leFrown
I'm sayin' what else is there to do besides relax?
Let the problems in your mind become ancient artifacts.
Perhaps these raps can help you alleviate -- the things that's got you trippin' you watch me demonstrate -
First you ignore the nonsense and clear your conscience,
Let your pen touch the paper -- write verbs and consonants,
As the words become a sentence, you start to feelin' different
The stress is out your mind you feel like the weight was lifted
Terrific I'm glad we had this time to discuss - I'm outro -- call me if you want to blaze one up.
Let the problems in your mind become ancient artifacts.
Perhaps these raps can help you alleviate -- the things that's got you trippin' you watch me demonstrate -
First you ignore the nonsense and clear your conscience,
Let your pen touch the paper -- write verbs and consonants,
As the words become a sentence, you start to feelin' different
The stress is out your mind you feel like the weight was lifted
Terrific I'm glad we had this time to discuss - I'm outro -- call me if you want to blaze one up.
- Imalia froze, torn. What was worse, getting caught with stolen goods, or going with a stranger in a shady back door of building? Well, if she was caught, it would be straight to jail, if not getting roughed up on the way there, and going in the building with a complete stranger wouldn't probably work in her favor. Not that she really had time to really make a decision. She heard the footsteps thud from behind her, causing her to quickly scurry through the door the man had propped open. Box included. She wasn't going to risk her life for the stolen goods just to leave them at the last second. That's like robbing a bank but leaving the money.
The hallway was dim with the overhanging yellowy florescent lights, held together in columns traveling down the hall. The brisk air -- cooler than outside, which was a blessing -- rushed passed her face, her body temperature must have gotten confused, because she felt hotter than she did outside. She was confused, to say the least. A clock on the wall glowed with the time, the numbers almost reaching out and hitting her in the face.
Holy crap! What should have been a ten to fifteen minute excursion to the store and back took over a half an hour. Considering the store wasn't far away from the apartment, Charles was probably having a bird waiting for her, probably speed dialing the cops. How far away did she run? She heard the door slam; the man who had helped her had shut the door behind them. Her stomach dropped - she wanted so badly to sink into the floor and wake up at her apartment on the couch, this all being some bizarre dream.
God, if this is a dream, I totally get your message, and I will NEVER steal again. I promise.
She turned, box still in hands, and began to apologize profusely.
"I'm really sorry I got you into this. Really! I'd totally make it up to you, and you know, I'm good on my word, but - I - you know, you can just ... like... you don't have to hide me - I should be fine once they leave you know - I'm really really sorry!"
(ooc::: it's called Acid Raindrops, by People Under the Stairs! )
Her Maserati
[[OOC: Ah, looked it up. Really pretty.]]
I want to take you home.
I won't do you no harm.
You have to be mine.
All mine.
Amazed that it actually worked as the people huffed off in the same continuous direction. With a light huff he returned to the door, his hand down at his watch. He knew what time it was but it was a reassurance to his system of how long he had. Four minutes. "What'd you steal anyway?"
He could care less that she stole, just Lamont's curiousity always peeked at random moments. "You can leave as soon as I go into my fight, that way no one will be back here. If you leave now, that idiot," his hand loosely pointed to the door towards the gym, "will come in. And most likely will try to do something with you." With a light roll of his eyes, he shed his hooded jacket so he could get ready for his fight.
I won't do you no harm.
You have to be mine.
All mine.
The commotion of the footsteps began to quicken after he sent her to the gym locker room. Taking another puff from his cigarette, he dropped it, pushing it deep into the ground with the butt of his shoe. The people that were chasing this woman have not given up yet, and as she began to talk to him, he almost froze. The commotion confused him, but his intentions were to take it as the first steps of a fight. He had to make his standing clear, he had to know what he was leading with, and he had to dictate the time.
Turning to her with a friendly smile, one that only his sister ever saw, and quickly closed the door behind him before the group saw her. As soon as they placed their eyes on him, his shoulders rolled back. He was taking position as they began to bombard him with questions.
"Do you really think, talking my ******** ear off, really will help?"Turning to her with a friendly smile, one that only his sister ever saw, and quickly closed the door behind him before the group saw her. As soon as they placed their eyes on him, his shoulders rolled back. He was taking position as they began to bombard him with questions.
Amazed that it actually worked as the people huffed off in the same continuous direction. With a light huff he returned to the door, his hand down at his watch. He knew what time it was but it was a reassurance to his system of how long he had. Four minutes. "What'd you steal anyway?"
He could care less that she stole, just Lamont's curiousity always peeked at random moments. "You can leave as soon as I go into my fight, that way no one will be back here. If you leave now, that idiot," his hand loosely pointed to the door towards the gym, "will come in. And most likely will try to do something with you." With a light roll of his eyes, he shed his hooded jacket so he could get ready for his fight.
After all of the years past.
You're still in that house over yonder.
You're still in that house over yonder.
leFrown
I'm sayin' what else is there to do besides relax?
Let the problems in your mind become ancient artifacts.
Perhaps these raps can help you alleviate -- the things that's got you trippin' you watch me demonstrate -
First you ignore the nonsense and clear your conscience,
Let your pen touch the paper -- write verbs and consonants,
As the words become a sentence, you start to feelin' different
The stress is out your mind you feel like the weight was lifted
Terrific I'm glad we had this time to discuss - I'm outro -- call me if you want to blaze one up.
Let the problems in your mind become ancient artifacts.
Perhaps these raps can help you alleviate -- the things that's got you trippin' you watch me demonstrate -
First you ignore the nonsense and clear your conscience,
Let your pen touch the paper -- write verbs and consonants,
As the words become a sentence, you start to feelin' different
The stress is out your mind you feel like the weight was lifted
Terrific I'm glad we had this time to discuss - I'm outro -- call me if you want to blaze one up.
- The box seemed heavier in her hands, almost if the guilt had snuck its way into the cracks and weighed it down by a few pounds. She quickly readjusted herself so the box pressed up against her chest, cradled by her arms. Imalia could feel herself getting the jitters, feeling suddenly all out of energy. She barely registered his question. She saw his mouth move, yes. And she the words, yes. But somehow, it became a garbled mess by the time it reached her brain. By the way he looked pointedly at the box, she could guess what he was talking about.
"Yeah, I got it from the supermarket up the street. I mean, they don't need it anyway, by the way they practically keep everyone out, but then ya know how it goes, right? OH! I didn't mean it like that..." She paused, hoping she wasn't babbling like an idiot, "It's really nothing much. Just like...cereal, and stuff. Just to get by."
Which was true. Kinda. He didn't really have to know about the dire straights, on-the-last-leg, illegal part of her sticky fingers incident. Probably the less he knew, the better.
The next sentence was much clearer. Something about a guy in another room, and not to leave until the fight started. Got it. The last thing she wanted was to be a victim of abuse after all of this. But something caught her ear and it didn't make sense. He...fought?
"Wait, you-you fight? Like, for money?" She could have slapped her forehead, had she not held her prize. She had stumbled into on of the most profitable businesses in Cuba since the pharmaceutical industry hit, and probably at the worst time ever. Crap crap crap crap crap!
Her Maserati
[[OOC: Ah, looked it up. Really pretty.]]
I want to take you home.
I won't do you no harm.
You have to be mine.
All mine.
At the last remark, he retrieved his jacket. Reaching into the over sized pocket at the front, as a quick zipper movement was made. He pulled out a wad of fives. Not very impressive but he was not going to have her try and survive on cereal. Thumbing out three five dollar bills, hoping that his sister didn't find out. He hated the scolding. He could see her, hands on her hips, yelling at him that was their food money, not some woman.
Lamont laughed lightly to himself, he knew it would come out exactly like that. But returning his eyes back to the thief, he saw his sister. As he reached out for her to take the money, he wished that she had someone. Someone that cared for her as he did with Stew. After a minute's pause he added something quickly, "if you want. You can watch."
I won't do you no harm.
You have to be mine.
All mine.
That feeling when you want to laugh but can't, surged through Lamont. His teeth bit into his bottom lip, as he tried his best not to laugh because of her mannerisms. It was not her fault, he could tell, but the stress catching up to her made him want to laugh heartily. Finally looking up to the door, the one that he had to go out of in three minutes, he thought of a small side plan.
His attention returned to her at her last statement. It was a question but registered in his mind as a statement. With a quick nod, he began to bandage his hands.
"It's a form of boxing, more of a form just to satisfy the people. The people in this area love to watch the s**t beaten out of the poor." He paused as a quick apology for presenting slander before her, "it's something to put money in my pocket and food in my stomach."His attention returned to her at her last statement. It was a question but registered in his mind as a statement. With a quick nod, he began to bandage his hands.
At the last remark, he retrieved his jacket. Reaching into the over sized pocket at the front, as a quick zipper movement was made. He pulled out a wad of fives. Not very impressive but he was not going to have her try and survive on cereal. Thumbing out three five dollar bills, hoping that his sister didn't find out. He hated the scolding. He could see her, hands on her hips, yelling at him that was their food money, not some woman.
Lamont laughed lightly to himself, he knew it would come out exactly like that. But returning his eyes back to the thief, he saw his sister. As he reached out for her to take the money, he wished that she had someone. Someone that cared for her as he did with Stew. After a minute's pause he added something quickly, "if you want. You can watch."
After all of the years past.
You're still in that house over yonder.
You're still in that house over yonder.
leFrown
I'm sayin' what else is there to do besides relax?
Let the problems in your mind become ancient artifacts.
Perhaps these raps can help you alleviate -- the things that's got you trippin' you watch me demonstrate -
First you ignore the nonsense and clear your conscience,
Let your pen touch the paper -- write verbs and consonants,
As the words become a sentence, you start to feelin' different
The stress is out your mind you feel like the weight was lifted
Terrific I'm glad we had this time to discuss - I'm outro -- call me if you want to blaze one up.
Let the problems in your mind become ancient artifacts.
Perhaps these raps can help you alleviate -- the things that's got you trippin' you watch me demonstrate -
First you ignore the nonsense and clear your conscience,
Let your pen touch the paper -- write verbs and consonants,
As the words become a sentence, you start to feelin' different
The stress is out your mind you feel like the weight was lifted
Terrific I'm glad we had this time to discuss - I'm outro -- call me if you want to blaze one up.
- "I can...I can watch? Like, I don't have to leave? You're not gunna kick me out?" Imalia almost stuttered. Was he serious? Or making fun of her?
Besides, there was Charles, too. He was probably worried sick, thinking she passed out in some alley, or got caught by the CDC, or assaulted by some thugs. All of which almost happened, if not for the fighter. So he couldn't be that mean to make fun of her, after he just got done helping her out so much. A thought side swiped her out of nowhere. She was sick, and he was a fighter. Couldn't that put him at risk?
"'Cos, you know, I'm 'sick'." She wrapped her fingers in quotes around the last word. Usually, once someone was sick, people avoided them like the pariah. Not that she blamed them. People were too poor to afford getting sick, and the sick had to fend for themselves. That was the story of her and Charles' lives. Well, for Charles not so much. He was healthy enough to pass off as any other normal person.
She blamed their mother. A few years after Imalia was born, their mother left to go to their Aunt's house up the street, and just never came back. Imalia was sick as a child, and obviously her mother couldn't afford to keep her children. Charles wasn't bitter about it. He worked hard so Imalia could get better and go to school. That was when she got better. Then, their mother came back, and got her sick again, only to leave again without even saying goodbye.
Not that that mattered anymore. More than half the population of Cuba was sick, so it wasn't as if she was the only one.
"I'll-I'll stay, if you don't mind."
(ooc: i know! usually, i don't like this kind of music, but it really got me! :] so does this guy Kid Cudi - Day and Night. It's just so upbeat!)
Her Maserati
[[OOC: Sorry that it took so long.
Been distracted and didn't want to ruin the role play because of it.
x3]]
Been distracted and didn't want to ruin the role play because of it.
x3]]
I want to take you home.
I won't do you no harm.
You have to be mine.
All mine.
He sighed lightly as he walked to his locked, folding his jacket up and adjusting his basket ball shorts to fit perfectly on his hips. His body was slim, with a Cuban tan, but scarred. There was many bruises across his back from previous matches, scratches too. But this did not bother him, he needed the money. He would not work again at that bar. He would not sell random items, steal, nor sell drugs again. He wouldn't allow himself to stoop at that level again.
Finally he returned his attention back to her, wiping his conscious from those thoughts as he heard her comment, "Well I'm not going to hold that against you." His thoughts were crossed because he didn't want to put her down on something that was not her fault. It was not her fault that the nation was not caring for their people. It was not her fault that everyone was dying.
Nodding lightly from her last response, "No, I don't mind. You can sit with Stew." Picking up his towel from the side of the bench, "Stew will make sure that you're fine." He smiled ever so lightly, just to comfort this last spirit.
I won't do you no harm.
You have to be mine.
All mine.
Lamont's mind wondered, he didn't understand what she meant at first. The thought crossed his mind if she was sick, that was the population count, but he hoped not. She was intelligent, that was what he gathered from that short time, but he had no idea of what she talked about. Cocking his eyebrow up at her question,
"Of course you can. I get on in about two minutes. I can drag it to three, but any longer and they'll take it as me giving up."He sighed lightly as he walked to his locked, folding his jacket up and adjusting his basket ball shorts to fit perfectly on his hips. His body was slim, with a Cuban tan, but scarred. There was many bruises across his back from previous matches, scratches too. But this did not bother him, he needed the money. He would not work again at that bar. He would not sell random items, steal, nor sell drugs again. He wouldn't allow himself to stoop at that level again.
Finally he returned his attention back to her, wiping his conscious from those thoughts as he heard her comment, "Well I'm not going to hold that against you." His thoughts were crossed because he didn't want to put her down on something that was not her fault. It was not her fault that the nation was not caring for their people. It was not her fault that everyone was dying.
Nodding lightly from her last response, "No, I don't mind. You can sit with Stew." Picking up his towel from the side of the bench, "Stew will make sure that you're fine." He smiled ever so lightly, just to comfort this last spirit.
After all of the years past.
You're still in that house over yonder.
You're still in that house over yonder.
leFrown
I'm sayin' what else is there to do besides relax?
Let the problems in your mind become ancient artifacts.
Perhaps these raps can help you alleviate -- the things that's got you trippin' you watch me demonstrate -
First you ignore the nonsense and clear your conscience,
Let your pen touch the paper -- write verbs and consonants,
As the words become a sentence, you start to feelin' different
The stress is out your mind you feel like the weight was lifted
Terrific I'm glad we had this time to discuss - I'm outro -- call me if you want to blaze one up.
Let the problems in your mind become ancient artifacts.
Perhaps these raps can help you alleviate -- the things that's got you trippin' you watch me demonstrate -
First you ignore the nonsense and clear your conscience,
Let your pen touch the paper -- write verbs and consonants,
As the words become a sentence, you start to feelin' different
The stress is out your mind you feel like the weight was lifted
Terrific I'm glad we had this time to discuss - I'm outro -- call me if you want to blaze one up.
- Puzzled, Imalia set her box on the one bench located near the lockers. Her arms immediately protested this action, going numb from the missing weight. It was strange, getting kindness from a complete stranger. The kindest person she had met that actually cared, other than her pastor at her church, who had taken her and Charles in at one point in time. Which was a long time ago, let it be noted. Long enough that people seemed to have forgotten how to show kindness and sympathy without expecting anything in return.
"Thanks. To stay, I mean." She noticed him removing his jacket and turned away. It would be rude to stare at him while he was getting ready. The other side of her brain dared her to peek, and she wasn't one to back down from a challenge. He was much more attractive without his coat, well, now that she could actually see his face without it being clouded from the adrenaline. At least he was more attractive that the bullet ridden hoodlums who populated her block. She refused to acknowledge them. She and her brother did what they had to do to get by. They... they just liked the violence, the killing. And that made her sick to her stomach, regardless of actual looks.
Stew, huh? She contemplated the name over in her head. A friend of his? A relative? Would a relative want him to do what he was doing? She knew she wouldn't if it was Charles. Then again, Charles wouldn't be able to swat a fly without feeling sorry for it. She sighed, I guess it will be alright. I don't think he'd let me sit near some creepy...creeper.
"I'm, well, Imalia Ruiz by the way- not that there are many Imalia's running around. But you know, I figured I'd let you know in case, you know...you need to know."
[I know what you mean. I had a chem exam to study for, and I had a 5 page paper to write. ]: Oooooh, but there's no rest for the wicked, eh? xD PS - love you avi, btw! ]