So what if the shit was stolen!

[izeveryboyin]

My cousin Vin (I know, I know) called me today to re-up w/me about how my mtoher was enjoying yet another trip to her favorite city--- California (w/out me, of course). Vin (short for Ravihna but don't tell her I told you, she'll kill me) asked how I was faring being the sole care-giver of my young brother while our matriarch was away. "miserable" I told her "you get rid of one tike and fuck, here comes another one". She laughed at me, and called it restless youth. I called it not being able to smoke or curse around him, thus driving myself insane as nicotine and profanity both equally essential parts of life. To put it sweetly, I called it shitty. If not for my nicotine addiction and my wayward lust for obscenity, I suppose it wouldn't be so bad. "you're just whining, Squeaker" she said to me. "Tracey'll be back soon". I flinched at the sound of that horrible nickname from--- well... let's not go there. The pot on the stove was boiling over, and I was wating for John to come over to see if he couldn't fix my shit of a computer and loan me a few bucks to get a landline put in. (No, and no.) When the buzzer rang, or rather--- flickered, I rushed over in my joe boxers and almost fell ass-down on the hardwood floor w/only the TV and playstation to break my fall. When John came in, he smelled like Jonus. Ergo, he was only getting a hug from me, no cheek kissing, b/c I was more than sure that skin of his had been participating in dubious activities w/his lover of choice. After tinkering, and a cig I snuck and had in the bathroom I remembered I'd left Vin on the phone and hadn't told her what happened. "Shit!" I cursed, rushing over to my cell and checking to see what I already knew would be there--- a notification that the call had ended. Just then I saw John pouring through several contents he'd presumably dropped out of his bookbag. "What the hell is all that?" I asked. "Valuables." He mumbled. I shook my head, hippie-curls flopping ever slightly as I did. "And put on some goddamned pants!" He shouted. "It's fuckin freezing in here." "Yes Daddy." He was right, it was freezing and there I was in a cami and boxers. (classic glutton for comfort syndrome). "Hey John?" I called, remembering a piece I'd seen on the chaise chair (my only piece of furniture). "John where'd you get that necklace?" "Uhhh, eBay" he said. "It looks like Crystal's necklace, did you notice that." There was a puase. "What? Oh, no, not really." I'd slid into a pair of jeans and was walking into the living room as he spoke the last sentence. "She wears that thing everyday. In fact, she just lost it." I remarked, arms folded. "Calling me a theif girl?" "Only if it's true." I smirked. Then he and I burst into the most ridiculous bout of happy laughter that every two good friends have shared. "Christ she's gonna be pissed." I said, still trying to stifle my giggles. "I know. She always hates our 'surprise' birthday pranks"