Amossoma543
Student
- Jan 31, 2020
- 116
I was a kid in the 80s and my older brother was in high school. He was into the "new wave" punk sort of movement...bands like O.M.D and Pet Shop Boys and The Cure...he dressed in all black, long tails coats, pointy black boots, eye liner, spiked hair, brooches on his lapel, baggy black pants...I hated it, because he was such a snob about it. He clashed hard with the jocks in the school, and I was always the invisible kid, tried to blend, blend, blend...and he would criticize me because I was just a "nerd" to him. The point of this was that he once lit up this nasty brown cigarette outside our apartments, he was around 15...and it stank so bad. He told me it was a clove cigarette...and it's been over 35 years since, but I still loathe clove cigarettes because of that association. "It's a clove cigarette" he sneered at me, looking down with his shaded eye lids, heavy mascara, dangly cross earrings, black nails and smelly old thrift store wool sport coats that he refused to wash.
Also, today I have this urge to just take the pistol, stick it behind my ear and pull the trigger. All it would take is 3 steps to where it's sitting right now...cock it, raise it to just behind my ear...and then see what happens. It's a .32 caliber revolver police pistol.
Also, today I have this urge to just take the pistol, stick it behind my ear and pull the trigger. All it would take is 3 steps to where it's sitting right now...cock it, raise it to just behind my ear...and then see what happens. It's a .32 caliber revolver police pistol.