Vintage Vera

“Vera!” Morgan yelled from across the house, deliberately waking me up. I groaned and lifted my face off my drool-drenched pillow. How the fuck am I in bed?!

“Vera! Wake! Up!” Morgan called out louder making her sound ripple through the air between us. I moaned into my pillow as I smothered my face in it. I gradually got off the bed, immediately remembering my bruise. I lifted my white tank top and pulled my biker shorts down. I examined its colors and found that they were the same as yesterday’s night.

“Chingao, Vera! Levantate! Necesito tu ayuda!” Morgan howled out in Spanish. In my experience, that translates to: ‘Damn it, Vera! Get up! I need your help!’ I can understand what she says, but I can’t pronounce it. I find Spanish really difficult. You have to roll a bunch of letters on your tongue to sound a perfect letter. Morgan doesn’t help much either. She just laughs at my attempts.

I dragged my feet out of my room and lazily head to the kitchen. My limp was gone….that’s for sure! Morgan sat at the kitchen table in her yellow onsie with white polka dots scattered all over. Her hair was pulled back into a loose French braid and she stared at me through her black cat eye eyeglasses.

“What?” I plopped myself carefully into the chair next to Morgan. I grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl that lay in the center of the table, while she continued to stare.

“What should I be? A fairy, werewolf, vampire, witch, or ghost?” she beamed with excitement. The banana I was about to bite into, hung in my open mouth, as I tried to understand what she was saying. Then I realized she was talking about her, absolute, most favorite game of all time, The Sims 3.

“Human.” I said sarcastically.

“I want to be a fairy. I’ll be a fairy!” She clicked the laptop and waited for the game to load. “Ah! Flapperpatties’! What should I name her?” She looked up from the screen and her glasses slid to the tip of her nose, showing her grey-teal eyes.

“Human.” I said again, this time, a little more annoyed.

Her eyes lit up a sparkly silver and her lips curled up from ear to ear. “That’s so ironic, I’m just gonna’ have to name her that.” Her fingers flew across the keyboard excitedly.

I folded my, now empty, banana peel and rolled my eyes. “Did you seriously just wake me up for your Sims?”

She looked at me for a long while and the corners of her smile frowned and began to shake. Her eyes flooded with water. My brain burned fumes, extensively, trying to grasp the reason for her sudden sadness. Then the fumes finally got the cogs working in my brain and then I realized. Morgan is wearing her onsie…

“Why are you so darn mean to me!?” Her tears burst out, like water falling from a waterfall, her cheeks blushing.

“Morgan? Calm down please. I didn-” I tried saying as calmly as I could, kind of how a dentist would talk to a scared toddler, but she interrupted me.

“I just wanted you help, Vera! You don’t have to be so bitter and sarcastic about it!” She dove her hand into the bottom of the fruit bowl, fished out a package of rainbow Twizzlers, and accidently let the apples and peaches roll across the table.

“Morgan!” I yelled, catching her attention. She stared at me with her teary eyes and watered cheeks. “You are on your period. You’re being irrational, so please think about why you’re crying. I do apologize, but calm-your-tits!” I quoted her infamous quote.

She started to laugh and pulled out a green Twizzler from the package. “You’re right,” she bit into the Twizzler and picked up the scattered fruit. “Them raging hormones. L! O! L,” she text-talked. She laughed a while longer, but continued to play her game.

Morgan was real messed up when she was on her menstrual cycle. Her hormones were all over the place. No joke, but it can get scary… She can be crying one minute and laughing the next. Or vise-versa. She craves food like you couldn’t believe! She’s worse than a pregnant lady and, to top it off, she eats like a total pig! She always wears her yellow onsie when Mother Nature’s gift comes by. If you sat down and watched her, as if she were a reality TV. show, it would be hilarious! The things she comes up with is ridiculous, but if you actually were there interacting with her…. She can not only be scary, but annoying.

After a while of hearing her complain about her game slowly load, I asked, “How did I get in bed last night?”

She stuffed a Twizzler in her mouth and mumbled, “Avery and I found you there.”

“Avery?” I realized it must have been Michael, but didn’t mention it.

“Yeah.” She stared into the computer screen and chewed on her licorice. I knew she wasn’t going to be saying much with that screen in her face, but still, I continued.

“Did she stay ove-”

“In the guest room.” Morgan cut me off already knowing the answer. I’m convinced she mind reads when she’s on her period. I swear… She looked up sharply and spoke, “you’re gonna’ tell us what happened last night. Even the part where that fucking idiot hurt you!” She poked the bruised fingers on my arm as she said that last part.

“Ouch!” I jerked and slapped her hand away. “Fine. But later…”

Morgan’s phone lit up with life and vibrated against the wooden table. She slid her finger across the screen and pulled it to her ear. “Morgan’s City Morgue, how may I assist you today?”

I heard someone laugh and talk into Morgan’s ear. Without saying anything in reply, she handed the phone over to me, “it’s for you.”

I stared out her lingering arm and decided to take the phone. “Ummm… Hello?”

“Why didn’t you answer your phone? Let’s go. I’m already outside!” The man’s quickly said into my ear and abruptly hung up the phone.

Guys..! If you have any constructive critiscism,

please tell me! My mom read over my story and

she more than critiqued it... XD If you see anything

wrong, please, tell me.

PS: She even offered to be my editor! >:O