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High School Glimpse
The following short fiction is rated M. for mature. So if you're a panzy go read something else.
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“Hey Pace, what’s goin’ on?”
“Heeeyyy Ratty!” Pace stood up gave Ratty a quick hug. They both sat down on the bleachers, admiring the cheerleaders.
“You coming to the party Saturday night,” Pace asked. Ratty raised an eyebrow like a question mark.
“What party?”
“Sam Malone’s party, bro. There’s gonna be hot bitches there. You in or out?”
“In…what’s the occasion?”
“Man its fuckin’ Malone! Don’t need a reason,” Pace said.
“Right, I gotcha,” Ratty said. His hair blew over his cold blue eyes and Ratty swatted it away absently.
“You feel that breeze man? Fuckin’ Nor-Easter about to bitch slap us,” Ratty said.
“I don’t give a fuck, do you?”
“Nah, let it hit us,” Ratty said.
“Oh my God, there she is,” Pace said. He stood a little before realizing how it looked, he sat back down trying to imitate cool.
“Who? Your girlfriend Julie?”
“Shut the fuck up…and don’t I wish,” Pace said.
“Yeah you do wish,” Ratty said. It was Pace’s turn to lift an eyebrow. He turned to Ratty, indignation playing on his face. Ratty delighted in that look a moment.
“She’s fucking the mascot, dude,” Ratty said. At first Pace didn’t understand him. Then it occurred to him that the mascot was a boy named Ralph that nobody messed with, but nobody knew why they didn’t mess with him.
“I just lost all respect for that hoe,” Pace said. Ratty chortled and slapped Pace on the back.
“See you Saturday fuck wad,” Ratty said. He rose to his feet and jumped off the bleachers. Pace gave him the middle finger when Ratty turned to look back.
They had a strange friendship.
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