BAD GIRL
 
 
The first person you’d ever meet at Cafe Javas in the early mornings doing something like reading when in fact they’re just on a porn site, is Carthy.
 
I’m one hell-a porn addict myself, but yeah, Carthy wins the gold. The same goes with chocolate berries. And the same thing with yellow boys.
I love savage, sturdy, muscle flowing idiots. Those without any sense of retrogression.
Kissing you like a bad boy, and yet they’re not intimately lazy in taking off your pants when you feel dizzy.
 
I want the yellow ones. I really do.
“Play the first one. Yeah, that over...wait.” The porn site was either docile  or just running out of use. So boring. Which reminds me of Churchill, our warden.
 
Mr. Melody Landhill Churchill Winston was a lame asshole. He not only sounded Canadian when having a low belch,but also  for being the most boring warden we had ever seen, he became popular: infamously popular.
 
Sounds horny? Well, Mr. Dickinson wowed us, puny kittens, announcing as a way of savage instinct, “Welcome, the new warden of your school dormitory, Mr. Melody Churchill. Ritah and your stubborn friends, and the rest of you, ought to respect him!”
 
There was obviously three reasons this was happening. First, dad thought this was the best school in town.
Then he screamed and mumbled and drifted over it.

And for no good reason...like the same kiddish attempt he made when I started dating someone next door.

Mom is the next reason.
 
The third?: Well, everybody thought it worthwhile little for me to be in this school parade.
Courtney and his ugly buddies stand in the far peak. It makes sense they’re not uglier than me. Which is a bit of a stretch so to speak, because that was what Madam Jolly said in one assembly. That of all the most disciplined girls in school, I took the last place.
Such an ugly statement.
In that accord, I was to obey school rules, or would I?