Nicoletta

Lord, how tired I am!

I spent so much time on the report, but these pigs are ungrateful and don’t even want to pretend that they are just a little interested. Quite the contrary, it seems to me. They all make it clear that they wanted to spit on all my efforts. No one even looks.

Well, except, perhaps, Sanders's stolidity.

This one was all hunched over, his fists clenched. And everything buravit and buravit me with his gaze of the released gorilla. No, it seems, will not accept the idea that he was so shamelessly turned off. Well, I admit, it turned out a little rough. But on the other hand, what did he even count on?

No, learn Mr. Muskul to explain himself not only with interjections, he could even at least interpret at the very least why I am not going to put a big deal on my reputation when dealing with all sorts of non-proofs of the local spill. Yeah. That hurt the boy now. In the vulnerable soul spat. Okay, survive, poor thing.

The local contingent, of course, deserves special mention. What is the best word to describe a student? The swamp. Impassable, rotten, oozing with apathy and apathy in miasmas.

I glance at the audience.

Over there, from the right edge, a tribe of ever-rebellious overgrowths in their baggy shapeless sweatshirts “Say no to the system”, mixed with indefinite sex creatures like snails, carrying their entire scrub in hefty backpacks, which they do not even bother to take off sitting. Sometimes I catch myself thinking that they are asleep, quite likely in them. Behind all sorts of painted rock idols gathered, probably still living in the garage of their parents, and suffering from a terrible cognitive dissonas. In dreams, they have long sunbathed under the fire of spotlights, performing another immortal hit, but in the harsh reality you have to wash the dishes at some local eatery. There really only in the light of washed plates you can soak up. Losers, in general. Those and others. Nothing interesting.

Oh yeah, there is still homegrown Achilles Greg Sanders with his brave Myrmidonians. But all these time they chase the ball on the field, then hug the dubious kind of girls on the benches, looking at how the ball is being kicked by others. Once again, forgive me, swift-footed, you will have to find yourself another Briseis.

By the way, if we are talking about girls.

Representatives of the "beautiful" (if I may say so) sex are divided here exactly into two camps: beggars with greasy hair, hiding yellowish faces battered by a rash. These eternally clustered individuals and people who are crying about the injustices of the world would rather die than decide to make an effort to lose a couple of pounds. In order to start using perfume and brush my teeth at least occasionally, I certainly don’t even condemn it. I'm not a fool any. The wrist is still dislocated from the habit. I know, I know, say, out of indulgence to other people's weaknesses. Itself koryu, believe me. But what to do? Not everyone is like me. Understanding is necessary.

Well, the type number two: representatives of the younger shift for the oldest profession in the world. About these and say something really nothing. The collective appendix of football players, giggling at their silly jokes.

High up this painted support team Drew Nilsson. With which I already had the trouble to meet. I still regret it. That still mrazota.

I look at this whole farce, and I don’t understand where there are so many disputes about the missing link between a man and a monkey. What is there to argue? Here they sit. A whole bunch of these damn missing links.

***

- How was your day?

Mom, as usual, is radiant with optimism, faith in tomorrow and a market economy.

- What do you think? Wonderful. Perfectly. Delightful.Why? Maybe something else?

I believe in harmony. In emotional Yin-Yang. It is necessary to dilute its sugary-sweet "Prozac" with a bit of its vitriol.

- Nicole, well, maybe that's enough, huh? How many times do I have to repeat, I really, really wish that I had to move. I understand perfectly well that all your friends stayed there. Brian. But understand me too, if we had stayed in England, everything could have been much worse. Much worse.

For greater expressiveness, it shakes the index finger.

- Yeah. Of course. Here we have a fairy tale.

- What does not suit you? I give you money, I believe, enough. You do not need to earn money. As many, please note your less fortunate peers.

- Yes, money is not the point!

My blasphemous remark she prefers to skip past the ears. Okay, even though the baptismal flag does not dawn on the cross In our family business is always in money.

- You have no idea what position I was in. How many assets have burnt out because of this naughty Marlowe! And the rumors spread ...

It is necessary to interrupt the tirade.

- Mom, I'm already sick of this little town.

- Nicole!

- What? Couldn't it have been better? I am here, as in hard labor.

- Enough! I was offered a job here. Conditions more than favorable. I try for you, understand.

- If you are so worried, think about how I feel among all these villages. I'm starting to degrade soon! What should I do here? Go wood chopping? Mom, please, I want to go home.

- We have already discussed this many times. Please do not start again. We cannot return to England now. Maybe in a year, when everything settles. Maximum two. I promise.

Confidence. Skepticism Balance. My habitual mantra.

In the inner pocket vibrates cellular. Who could be there? Brian? He will always understand. I'll cry though. Not. Even close. Drew nilsson Lord, what's up again? When will this scum leave me alone? Last money is already given. What else does she need from me? Renounced with the natives and confused on you. If you break the principles, then you will not end up.

Pondering whether to respond or not. I decide that a lot of honor will be. Will perebёtsya.

After a couple of seconds, a message arrives. I open it. And hastily pressed the phone screen to his chest. Glance at mom. Watching the road. Does not look at me. Slowly translate the view on the phone screen.

Good Lord, what am I doing this for?

I feel, I'm starting to paint with the image sent. I still do not believe that I do not dream about it.

The blackmailer does not let up - “ding-ding-ding” - images are streamed one after another.

Then text.

"Once again you try to ignore - send photos to mommy."

In the stomach, everything is compressed. Damn damn damn blackmailer. How did you get it!

I gather it and mentally gather strength. Talking with this reptile - the pleasure of something else.

Hooters go almost a minute. He wants to torment me.

Finally, the hateful “Hello, Shmara” is heard. It jars on me from such vileness, but I swallow a reprisal insult that is already ready to break loose from my lips and make my voice sound cold and detached. Extremely businesslike.

- Drew, is this something important? I'm a little busy right now.

- Listen here, prince, are you completely stupid? I explained to you incomprehensibly? I called - say "Yes, Mrs., your cunt is in touch and waiting for instructions." Got it?

Juggles me. I won’t get used to the fact that every second word in her sentence is some kind of dirty curse. Yes, and in my address.

I am silent. What can I say to this? I would now with great pleasure put this redneck into place. But damn photos ...

- Yes ... - I pull.

- What the fuck "yes" ?.

I turn away to the window. It still lacked mom to hear these dirty screams. Although, I think, the fact that I have to lead this humiliating dialogue, there is also a share of her guilt. Make friends, make friends, that you are all sitting alone. That started. Now, no "Riddeks" will not display.

- Drew, please, let me call you back? - I try to reach the beginnings of sanity of this telephone hooligan. “I really can't talk now.”

The voice sounds unfamiliar ....