yebutz

when i was a senior in high school (a long, long time ago), i had broken up with a boy, e.j. (rip). he promptly grabbed up a girl named lisa, banged her, and moved on. lisa, however, did not. i recall her walking around the halls with him...hanging out with his friends after school, bringing him lunch at his table, you know...all the stuff girls did to win a boy's affection back then.

i had also moved on. to an older, cuter guy that offered me more desirable social status and drugs...but i am extremely territorial and this lisa/e.j. situation made me livid. so one day, i approached lisa while she was at her locker. we were acquaintances and had mutual friends, so sparking a conversation wasn't too far out of the realm of possibility.

me: "lisa, honey...love those jeans. are they cavaricci?"
lisa: "um...uh...well"
*note*
lisa was scared. if she could have crawled into her locker, she would have. i'm not a big girl...nor am i 'tough girl'. in fact, i've never been in a physical altercation of any kind. nevertheless, i was intimidating in high school. i ran with a small crew; Georgia, Mary and myself. the three of us were queen shits. the principal loved us, so did the boys. the girls hated us, but hung around us anyway.
*end note*
me: "yeah, so...you've been hanging around e.j. a lot, huh?" (a smile on my face to feign both general and a lack of interest at the same time)
lisa: "yeah, i went his mom's house a couple times and we hung out...and sometimes..." i interrupted
me: "so do you think something might some of it?? oh my, maybe he'll ask you to homecoming!!!" (same smile, words now thick with sarcasm.)
lisa: "yeah, i thought about that."
me:"or maybe he won't. because you're a whore, lisa. and boys don't like whores for more than the 3 minutes it takes them to come. understand??"

i stood there for a minute or two to let this absorb. lisa began crying. she fell to her knees, shoulders shaking, looking at nothing but the linoleum beneath her. i stood over her humiliated frail figure, much like i imagine the gestapo did. i imagine she wanted to become one of those horrible speckles of color that are buried in the tile.

sometimes, i shake my head at the bitch of a person i was...sometimes, i'm still that bitch.
-me