The Lemonade Stand - Ch.1 (Read description first)
In this story I talk to a voice in my head. The voice is represented by the italics obviously, but my responses, even though they are in quotation marks,are not said aloud. During out loud dialog there will be "...she said...." or "...he said..." or something of that sort. The reason I'm explaining this is because the lack of font creativity that can be shown makes me have to use quotes both when talking to myself and when talking aloud. Thanks for taking the time to read this and enjoy the story ^^
-Vicky
"Hmmm." I studied my ceiling with great consideration. It seemed to be as dark and dank as the rest of my shitty loft. I looked around the stark one room apartment and tried to visualize it being anything but a shithole with a bed and clock. No such luck. I sighed as I came to the realization that I was going to be living here for the next couple of years. Well Vick, what'd you expect working at minimum wage? "Shut up Steven." Steven had been the name of my inner voice ever since my tragic bowling accident in '08. The doctors say that I sustained a massive concussion and that Steven was some sort of figment of my imagination or something. I really wasn't paying attention because of how much Steven was talking. I stared angrily at my forehead, or at least in that general direction. I'm just saying. If you would've ACTUALLY finished college you might not be here. I gave up arguing with him and got out of bed. I checked the clock as I pawed over to the closet to get dressed. You know you're going to be late right? It's 12:30. "Shut up Steven. I'll make it." I slid the wooden door open and grabbed a shirt and the only pair of pants I own: a pair of grey baggy cargos. I slipped on the clothes along with some socks and my pink Converse. I walked into the bathroom and examined my fur in the slimy piece of glass that was my mirror. Well even though you live in this shithole, at least you have your beauty. "Aww. Thanks Steven." I had always been admired for my symmetry, from my face down to my grey stripes that came to a point and stopped on my belly. Personally though, I loved the splashes of blood red on the tips of my ears and the end of my tail, as well a triangular mark on my chest just above my 30E tits. I sighed out loud, admiring my tigress self. You need help...You know that, right? I paused to think about that. "Shut up Steven."
I finished brushing my teeth and put on my Beats, cranked up some Rise Against, and walked down seven stories to the street below. I checked my phone. Comon Vicky. It's 1 o'clock. At least TRY to be on time. "Shut up Steven. I told you, that I'll make it." Really? Well that's good. When are you supposed to meet this guy again? I drew a blank. Damn his intelligence. "1:30. Duh." Good guess. Try 1:15. "Close enough." You have fifteen minutes to make it two miles. How do you wanna do this? I scoffed at that. "I'll just grab a cab" Forgot your cash. I quickly checked my pocket and as it turns out, he was right. "Damn you Steven. Why didn't you tell me that before!?" His response was calm and collected as always. You were too busy being an egotistical bitch. "Well fuck you too." I shut him out of my head and picked up the pace toward the coffee shop that I was expected at in 10 minutes. "Well, fuck."