The "Coke" Addict

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Just a ten minute story I wrote. I haven't edited it yet, though I'm not the best editor. It has a lot of dialogue I know, more than the actual story itself.

Submitted: January 08, 2012

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Submitted: January 08, 2012

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None of it would have happened, if the door hadn’t be left open. Nothing would have happened, and everything would have remained the same. But yet, without that open door there would be no story to tell.
 
 It was late on a Friday night, of course the wind rattled on the windows outside, though the heat inside was enough to endure the shivering cold outside. No one dared to open a window though, even though there was no snow, it was the middle of winter, and the temperatures were deathly cold outside. Inside though, it was toasty warm.
 
 Think of a normal family, because that was the type that lived here. A strict yet warm mother, a busy goofy dad, a younger annoying sister, and an older ‘leave-me-alone’ teenage boy.
 
It was in this house where our story begins.
 
 Tyrone Phillips wasn’t having a party ‘so to speak’ but more or less a small gathering with a few buds up in his room. Goofing off playing Grand Theft Auto, talking about chicks [both the cute and the ugly,] and more or less just having not a single care in the world. Though it happened they left the door open in one of their conversations...
 
 Mrs. Phillips was busy doing the laundry, gathering up all the clothes from the hampers that she had told the other family members to place in the hall by their doors, as it would be easier to collect. She had gotten her’s, her husband, and their daughter Anna’s, whose room was on the second floor, like her parents. Now Mrs. Phillips was climbing up the stairs to the house’s third floor, which could more or less be considered an attic though it was where Tyrone had decided to make his small nest-of-a-room. 
 
 Making her way up the stairs, she saw the large white hamper that lay outside the door. She could hear the boys laughing inside. She would have offered them a snack though she had heard the same responses way to much ‘mom get out, we’re not hungry.’ Or, ‘mom we’ll eat when we want to.’
 
 Opening the hamper with a sigh, she began to back-track to when Tyrone was just a little boy, he had been so friendly and nice, and now he seemed to want to have nothing to do with her. What a horrible thing...
 
 Though her thoughts were cut loose when she heard what the voices were speaking, through the opened door.
 
 “C’mon man, seriously, coke? You really think that’s the best?”
 
 “Duh,” it was Tyrone’s voice now. “If I could have some on me the entire time, I would.”
 
 Mrs. Phillips was in shock, her little boy... Was doing drugs...?
 
 “TYRONE JAMES PHILLIPS!” She pushed the door open, and it flung open startling the boys. “HOW DARE YOU USE DRUGS?!! DON’T YOU KNOW WHAT THEY’LL DO TO YOU?!!”
 
 “Mom, it’s not like that it’s” -
 
 “You’re father is going to want to have a word with you, and so am I! Don’t you realize how bad those things are for you?!”
 
 “But mom” -
 
 “And you all!” Mrs. Phillips continued her rant, as she looked at the other boys. “How about if your parents found out? I’m sure that they’ll be furious to know! Get out of my house now before I call them and tell them that their kids are planning to become nothing but scum!”
 
 “Mom! Hear me out we were”-
 
 “OUT. NOW.” She ordered, as the terrified boys piled out of the room, not getting out quick enough.
 
 “And you...”
 
 Her eyes were both raged and sad as she looked at her son, “come with me, now.”
 
 “Mom can you let me” -
 
 “NOW!”
 
 Tyrone gulping got off the spot on his bed where he had been sitting and walked over to her, he opened his mouth to speak, but his mother quickly grabbed onto his collar of his shirt and pulled him away from his room, and down the flight of stairs.
 
 “Kurt! KURT!” Mrs. Phillips began to shout, as they reached the second floor, as a very puzzled middle-aged man stepped out of one of the floor’s rooms.
 
 “What is it?” He asked, looking confused at his son and wife.
 
 “Our son has been using drugs behind our backs!”
 
 “No, mom! We weren’t” -
 
 Mr. Phillips looked enraged. “How could you?!” He interrupted his son. “I thought we had the say no chat with you like fifty times?”
 
 “You did, and”- 
 
 “And now!” Mrs. Phillps cut off her son, “you’re using drugs? How long has this been happening?!”
 
 Tyrone wondered if he should even speak.
 
 “Tell us!”
 
 “Mom, it’s not like that, I wasn’t using drugs. We were” -
 
 Mr. Phillips narrowed his eyes, “tell us son. A date.”
 
 “Never! I never used drugs!”
 
 Mrs. Phillips then began to cry. “How could you Tyrone, there were so many hopes and dreams you could have had...”
 
 “Mom, I didn’t” -
 
 “Go up to your room Tyrone,” his dad sighed. “Now.”
 
 Tried of trying to argue with his parents, his mother let go off his shirt collar and he marched up the stairs and into his room.
 
 
 The next day, Tyrone was woken up with a yell of his name, it was Saturday, and yet he was being called on? It didn’t make sense? Though most of the last twelve hours had made zero to no sense to him.
 
 “What?” He moaned, as he pushed himself out of bed, and opened his door, to see his mother and father standing there.
 
 “Get dressed. We have an appointment with you with your School Consular.” His mother looked as if she had been crying though had a strict look upon her face.
 
 “But it’s Saturday.” Tyrone complained, “at..” He swung his head back to look at the small clock in his room. “Nine thirty.”
 
 “Well yes, but we had his number from when your sister was being bullied, and we called him and explained what was happening. He said that we could go see him.” His mother continued.
 
 Tyrone sighed, and closed his eyes. “Mom.” She said in a droned voice. “I am not using drugs. We were talking about”-
 
 “What? Plans to use them in the future?!” His mother peaked her voice to stress what she was saying. “Get dressed. We’re going now.”
 “But mom...”
 
 “Now!”
 
 With a another sigh Tyrone closed his room door, and began to get dressed.
 
 No one spoke on the ride to the school, Tyrone had given up trying to talk through to his parents, and was lazing back, in the back seats. He knew that with what his parents were going on about this wasn’t going to be a good meeting.
 
 Getting to the school, and opening the doors, they walked into the vacant building, or it seemed so. It was still mildly dark in the school, and the only light came from a office which Tyrone knew to be on the lower floor.
 
 Walking - or more or less being pushed by his parents, they walked down the five or six steps to the bottom floor of the school, and down the hallway until they came to a room near the end. The door was open and the light hit Tyrone’s still sleepy eyes painfully. He groaned as he walked into the room with his parents.
 
 “Please take a seat.” Mr. Windsor the guidance counselor motioned to two seat and a bean-bag chair. Tyrone was quick to take the bean-bag chair, and sat down with a plop.
 
 “So exactly why are we here today?” Tyrone knew Mr. Windsor knew the answer, though he figured he would like to have it repeated.
 
 “Well we’ve found out our son has been using coke.” Mrs. Phillips began to tear up. “Illegal drugs...” She was comforted by a hand-grip from her husband. 
 
 “Mom it’s not like”-
 
 “And every time we try to talk to him, he seems to deny it.” She choked on her words.
 
 “You know son,” Mr. Windsor looked at Tyrone. “Admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery.”
 
“But I don’t do drugs!”
 
 “See?!” His mother cried. “He denies it!”
 
 “MOM!” Tyrone snapped and suddenly everyone was looking at him. “Can I please get to tell my story?!”
 
  Before either of his parents could say anything Mr. Windsor spoke. “Go ahead son.”
 
 “I am not doing drugs. When you over-heard us, we were talking about what soda we liked the most. Coke or Pepsi. I like coke more, and so I said so. None of us do drugs, we have more sense then that ma, and the fact that you think that we would even consider doing something like that is offensive.”
 
 The room was silent.
 
 “But...” His mother whined.
 
 “Did you ever see him use drugs? And or hear the entire conversation that was happening?” Mr. Windsor narrowed his eyes slightly.
 
 “Well.. No..”
 
 “Well then this has all been a misunderstanding!” Mr. Windsor had a smile on his face. “No harm done!”
 
 After some more small talk, Tyrone decided he’d leave the room, and go to the bathroom, which he was dying to use, considering he hadn’t had a chance all morning.
 
 As he walked out of the room, and closed the door behind him, a smirk fell on Tyrone’s face. Because in truth,
 
 he was more of a pepsi person.
 


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