Brice plopped on the sofa. He flipped between the channels on his floor model television. His thoughts ran wild. Lesson plans weren’t written. He wanted help, getting caught up on his schoolwork. Reaching under the lampshade bypassing the tassels, he clicked on the light. It was time to make this house more masculine. The floral carpet exchanged for a black one had been a good place to start.
Brice watched The A- Team, sinking into his sofa. The music and the bullets kept his eyes from blinking. He struggled off the sofa to stand. He took his breakfast plate with him into the kitchen. Even after all the bullets Face shot off while Mr. T sped off with them in the van, nobody died. Kids should be given TV bullets.
Brice’s foot bumped the cardboard box filled with jerseys. This box was supposed to be in the rec center. He scraped his leftover breakfast into the garbage disposal. Decorated roses and branches surrounded the plate. Yasmine cherished his dish set. He picked the close roses that mirrored their love. He continued to wait for his love to bloom without fear.
“It resembles our love, connected forever,” Yasmine had said, leaning her head into his shoulder. I’ve got to end this torture and stop thinking about her. She went back to Shawn.
Brice backed away from the sink, dropping the plate. Chippings flew into the sink compartment. He noticed his calendar stuck to his fridge. He whispered as he counted the remaining school days. He paused when he exceeded twenty. He rearranged his You’ve Done Your Best and Great Work magnets to either side of the calendar, as he clicked his silver-colored radio on.
“Where it pays to have the lunatics run the asylum,” the DJ said.
Lunatics should run the world. He darted across his carpet. He took his time going upstairs to his bedroom. The railing wiggled when he gripped it. Crawling on his bed, he spread his arms over his gray quilt. He slid his oversized pillow under his head.
Brice dialed Shawn’s number from memory on his rotary phone, avoiding his dumbbell. He kicked his gym shoes off, onto his rainbow straw rug with Mines written in the center, Yasmine’s stripper name. Shouldn’t trample her feelings.
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