They cramp my style

No means no. No, I'm not talking about the band. Cool band, by the way. I'm talking about you and me.

My mother didn't caught the joke, of course. "Go to your aunt's house and do what I told you to do. And after that buy the onions in the market or I will beat the fuck out of you". She is talking seriously.

My math thesis lies dormant on the drawer. My dreams of being recognized with fifteen years old are a joke to them.

Baldfaced Lie

We will take care of you, her parents said three years ago, when she came back home. Always stoned, pregnant and tired of sucking cock for some crack cocaine, she believed in them. In the church, blackmailed by the priest, laying down on the dirty floor, she remembers the best times of her life, four years ago, before all the shit happens, when she was eleven yers old.

A night like any other in any so-called small peaceful town

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Two years ago

Damon beat them up with the billy club when he arrived at home and saw them fucking in the kitchen. His best friend, an old history, sounds ludicrous. The blood dripping from her curly hair reminds Damon the day both of them lost their virginity. All policemen, of course, testified to help to drop the charges against him. He is so innocent today than he was back then.

Teen idol

Somewhere out there, a lot of girls are dreaming of him, thinking about a fantastic marriage. Meanwhile, he is stoned in a motel, fucking a travestite.