Polyblank
Bloody Amateur
"A reminder that non authorised personal are not permitted within staff facilities."
"Really, I had no idea."
Beth sat in the gift shop, her feet on the mahogany counter. The shop's barely functional lighting flickered frequently as though it was a club, the difference being instead of creeps and hookers there was an ample layering of silence. It was a welcome change. she flicked the nearest product at the light grilling, a small wooden zebra. The toy hit the protective cage around the light and fell to the ground, breaking one of the ears.
"You do know that we're- you're going to have to pay for that, right?"
The loudspeaker spoke coldly, her tone critical.
"I'm sure I can scrounge up something." Damned thing always sounded like her mother, didn't need to start acting like it. She pressed the register open with a foot and picked up a ten dollar bill between her toes, letting the bill fall idily to the ground after she dropped it over the counter board.
"That was twenty dollars, not ten." Her tone didn't change, loud intrusive and clear so even the stupidest fucker would be able to get the command in her head. Pretty fortunate given that Beth was the only one around.
"Good god; you're practically my mum now. When do I have to come in for dinner?"
"Whenever you're ready dear. Dinner's waiting out the door."
Beth shivered. That cut closer then it should have.
"...Don't do that."
"Nobody's stopping me but you. You're the one saying this."
Beth groaned as best she could, drawing it out. Sometimes it was best just to shut things down before they made her think too much. Last time she'd thought too much it had ended with her pussying out of killing herself, something looking pretty attractive right now. She couldn't do it though because something inside her thought it was a good idea to live in a fucking tourist drain. getting off the swivel chair and putting her feet off the table, she picked up the wooden zebra off the ground. It wasn't too bad for the force she'd thrown it at, a chipped ear the only sign of being past sell-able garbage. Beth studied the little toy, turning it in her fingers. The cool wood was pleasant and smooth. She continued to rotate it until the surface became strange and bumpy. The underside of the horse as she observed, was inscribed.
"Really, I had no idea."
Beth sat in the gift shop, her feet on the mahogany counter. The shop's barely functional lighting flickered frequently as though it was a club, the difference being instead of creeps and hookers there was an ample layering of silence. It was a welcome change. she flicked the nearest product at the light grilling, a small wooden zebra. The toy hit the protective cage around the light and fell to the ground, breaking one of the ears.
"You do know that we're- you're going to have to pay for that, right?"
The loudspeaker spoke coldly, her tone critical.
"I'm sure I can scrounge up something." Damned thing always sounded like her mother, didn't need to start acting like it. She pressed the register open with a foot and picked up a ten dollar bill between her toes, letting the bill fall idily to the ground after she dropped it over the counter board.
"That was twenty dollars, not ten." Her tone didn't change, loud intrusive and clear so even the stupidest fucker would be able to get the command in her head. Pretty fortunate given that Beth was the only one around.
"Good god; you're practically my mum now. When do I have to come in for dinner?"
"Whenever you're ready dear. Dinner's waiting out the door."
Beth shivered. That cut closer then it should have.
"...Don't do that."
"Nobody's stopping me but you. You're the one saying this."
Beth groaned as best she could, drawing it out. Sometimes it was best just to shut things down before they made her think too much. Last time she'd thought too much it had ended with her pussying out of killing herself, something looking pretty attractive right now. She couldn't do it though because something inside her thought it was a good idea to live in a fucking tourist drain. getting off the swivel chair and putting her feet off the table, she picked up the wooden zebra off the ground. It wasn't too bad for the force she'd thrown it at, a chipped ear the only sign of being past sell-able garbage. Beth studied the little toy, turning it in her fingers. The cool wood was pleasant and smooth. She continued to rotate it until the surface became strange and bumpy. The underside of the horse as she observed, was inscribed.
