Disclaimer: The characters in this blog are almost purely fictional.
Staring...
I can feel it- the hair on the back of my neck quiver, something kicks me in the a** as I feel her eyes upon me.
In this case the 'she' being mum, more's the pity..
Family's annoying. Clingy. And unbearable.
Contradiction becomes the name of the game in this irritable, irritating house of self styled intellectuals- this ode to the tower of Babel. If ever there were a way to catch useless random thoughts floating about in a house, crumple it and hurl it at the first person one sees, I'd patent it right away.
Oh the staring....
In lumbers SR, his pot belly preceding him, trying its best to rip his T Shirt and nearly succeeding. He's been to the gym apparantly.. His nephew (ahem ahem) snorts and then hurridly coughs to avoid being caught...
And oh the staring....
This time its me. I'm staring.
At Pot belly. Only lower. Because adorning....nah...clinging to his not-so-light frame is a black trackpant with 'licence to kill' embroidered on a pocket. Did I mention its mine? Right now, one can see both OO and 7 clearly. Gross!
'Can I have a....' he asks.
A pair of spectacles looks up- slowly, unhurridley.....
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