KATRINA A BRIEF HISTORY

So, Katrina is my stepsis. Mom isn’t around. Dad is at work. What else? Ahm, even the kitten is out.
It’s gross I have this weird feeling. Are you feeling what I’m feeling?
 
You: Dude, try making out with her.
Me: That’s a horrible idea. Where the hell did you get it?
You: Dude, I ain’t think about that.
Me: Dude, you just said, I try making out with her. You are denying it.
You: What the fuck dude? I didn’t say that.
Me: Ok, let’s be honest. You really want me making out with her or her making out with me.
You: Man, I’m just gonna be standing over here. It’s you and your stepsis.
 
Ha, alright. I’ll handle this alone. Back in the kitchen, I’m looking back at you, standing with your back against the wall. Good for you, I’m       just off my laptop floor- wait what?
“Stop reading my thoughts, okay.”
You look at me, annoyed that I’m just another- wait, she’s coming. Shhh.
“What you doing standing over there?”
“Katrina this is my friend, ah, Courtney?”
“Courtney? He looks...forget it.”
"HE? He looks like a girl to me." She scoffs, "What are you doing anyways?"
“So, ahm, we’re playing FIFA, wanna join us?”
Katrina looks at you like a mother cub does to a hyena. “No. I’m off with Sandra. Either way, you guys aren’t cool for me.”
Don’t take it seriously.
 
Alright. We’re in the living room. Here is the playstation. You wanna play FiFA or Dream League Soccer.
“I’m not much of a soccer fan.”
“Ah, I guessed it. What about, ahm, let’s try GTA 5.”
You look flabbergasted.
“Be right back.”
 
I see you in my mind’s eye, wondering why the hell I brought you here. You are scared of Katrina. You think she’s rude.
Luckily, we’re not going to see her for some good time. Relax.
Your legs are sweaty.
“You want some coca-cola or milk?”
You look at me indecisive. “Nah, I’m cool.”
You say, and definitely, you are not. I can help you out, you know.
“You like watching movies?”
 
Katrina walks in. “Hello, Courtney, you are the first friend this fucker has ever brought inside my house. So, better look after him well.”
She moves out, doesn’t she?
And you look at her legs. The red lips. Her thighs. The mini dress.
The bras.
You take it all in.