Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. It's Complicated by KittyKat5.0 (best manga ereader TXT) 📖
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It had been 8:30 when I went down there, and I was crawling, literally, into my room at – I looked over at my nightstand for my alarm clock. It wasn’t there. I remembered I threw it into the corner of the room. I looked at it, hoping by some miracle that it was still working. It was in pieces, with bits sticking out here and there. I looked back at my nightstand and spotted my phone. I continued to crawl forward, reaching my phone. I flipped up the cover, and looked down at the time, 11:45. My friends are coming over in fifteen minutes. I flopped down on my butt, my legs underneath me, and looked at the mirror. My hair was still defying gravity, my were even redder – if that’s possible, my skin was flush from working on the kitchen, my pajama bottoms – still twisted in a very uncomfortable angle – were rolled up past my knees, my shirt even lower and twisted to the side of my body. Everywhere had food somewhere. And to top it off, I still hadn’t showered.
Being the lazy ass I was, I dialed the house phone from my cell. It rang and rang and rang – it rang so much I was tempted to answer it myself, but that would be pointless. Finally, someone picked up, “What do you want, bitch?” an annoyed Conner asked.
“I’m calling to tell you that I am going to shower. My friends are coming over it,” I paused as I looked down at the time, “ten minutes. If I’m not out by then, please let them in. And be nice… And don’t rape them. Please relay the message to Toto and QB. Thank you.” Before he could even get a word in, I hung up the phone and crawled over to my closet, looking for clothes to wear. I couldn’t see anything but my shoes from the floor, so I slooooooowly stood up – so slowly, a turtle could’ve beat me if it were a race.
Once I was on my feet, I pulled out the top drawer – I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I thought it would’ve been easier to have all my clothes in one place, so I had QB build drawers into the closet and nail a shoe rack in for, obviously, my shoes – and pulled out: a bra, a sports bra, underwear, some short biker’s shorts, boxers I stole from… Toto I think, and a wife beater. I pulled out the second drawer and pulled out a tight short-sleeved black shirt that stopped right above my belly button. When I pulled that out, I opened the top drawer back up and put the wife beater back in. Lastly, I opened the last drawer and pulled out some long cargo pants that fit tight around my hips but were baggy everywhere else. I went back into the top drawer and pulled out some black “No Nonsense” socks. I looked at my shoe rack and grabbed my black converse.
I left my shoes and socks by my bed but brought everything else with me into the bathroom. I turned the shower on and let the water run. I looked at myself in the mirror before the fog shielded my vision, like I always did before I showered. I looked at my cherry red hair that went down to the top of my butt – well, it used to be flaming red. My mom likes to say I “destroyed my beautiful locks” that looked so much like hers, but I just died it. I left the top red, but died the bottom a bright orange with hot pink streak. ‘I actually like my hair mother, and that’s the only opinion that matters,’ I thought with a sharp nod of my head, my eyebrows furrowed. I looked at my amber eyes, tilting my head to the side, smiling as the gold flecks caught in the light. I looked at my petite nose, freckles splattered over the bridge of it, and my full, red lips. I stepped back and looked at my figure. I was slim in the waist, but had… a lot of me at the hips and breasts. I looked down the length of my long legs and wiggled my toes, I giggled at the silliness of toes.
I looked back at the mirror but couldn’t see anything, fog in my way. So I turned and hopped in the shower. I looked at my selection of shampoo and body wash. Use the men’s 3-in-1 body wash and smell like a dude, or use the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash for women and smell like flowers. Being the lazy person I am, the choice was easy. The 3-in-1, hands down.
After stepping out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around my wet hair, and dried my body off. I lotion-ed up and clothed. I looked at my reflection and smiled. ‘Teeth. Brush those things,’ I thought to myself, scrunching my nose up and looking away. After brushing my teeth, I let my hair down and blew it out. I straightened it and looked back at my reflection. I don’t wear that much make-up, I was lazy and I didn’t have pimples to cover up. I leaned into the mirror, lips puckered and applied and thick coat of clear lip gloss. I closed one eye, applied a thick line of eye liner and mascara to my long eye lashes. I did the same to the other eye.
I walked out and turned my back to the door, leaning down to put my shoes and socks on again, hoping that no one would walk in while I bent over. But me and my jinxing mouth, just haaaaad to say that right when my door was pushed open, “Hey, your…” Connor’s words trailed off as he caught sight of my underwear.
“Uhhhhhhhhhhm… … … Well, this is awkward… … …” I said as an attempt to break the tension, but only created more.
“Why the fuck are you wearing my boxers?” Connor asked, his face red with rage.
“Oh, these were yours? Huh, I guess you learn something new every day,” I said, dead serious.
“Take them off… Take them off, right the FUCK now!”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, take my fucking boxers off, right now,” he said slowly, as if I were a child that refused to understand something.
“Hell no! I’m wearing them, and am not about to take them off. So you can get over yourself,” I said harshly as I tried to brush past him.
But he caught me roughly by the arm and pushed me up against the wall, “Take them off, now, or I will take them off for you.”
I shoved against his chest, vaguely noting that he wasn’t wearing a shirt and was slightly wet, ‘He must of just gotten out of the shower,’ I thought stupidly. I didn’t say anything, so he must have taken that as the cue to take the boxers off me himself, because next thing I know, he’s unbuttoning my pants. I push against his chest harder, trying to get the bastard off me, but he wouldn’t budge, “Damn giant, get the fuck off me before I scream rape,” I threatened, glaring at his hateful ass.
He chuckled at me – he CHUCKLED at ME, damn bastard – and put a hand over my mouth just as my pants hit the floor. My eyes widened as he reached for the boxers just as Toto, QB, Alice Fay Johnson, Christina Bloom Sanders, and Carter Blake Sanders rounded the corner. Connor and I looked over at them… They looked at us… and started laughing. I got mad, “Don’t just stand there laughing! Get this giant off me before he rapes me!”
At the word “rape”, QB, being the over-protective brute that he is, stopped laughing and tackled Connor, sadly bringing me with them. So, instead of being squished up between a wall of plaster and muscle, I was now sandwiched in between two walls of muscle. Toto, Ali (Alice Fay), Chris (Christina Bloom) and Blake (Carter Blake) started laughing harder. I sighed in frustration as QB started lecturing Connor on sexual harassment and shit. I would’ve laughed with my friends – the look on Connor’s face was priceless – but I was still sandwiched between the two bastards… and losing air quick.
Five minutes of lecturing, and five minutes of slowly dying, QB finally got off me – and Connor – and I gulped down a big swallow of air – my face probably have gone purple – and rolled off Connor, quickly standing up to pull my pants back up. My friends, the great people that they were, just stood off to the side laughing their asses off. ‘Buttwipes!’ I yelled at them through my mind.
Connor, being the asshole that he is, not letting the boxers go, said, “I WILL get my boxers back, whether you like it or not,” snarling at me like the savage that he was.
“BOXERS?!?!?!” Toto but in. “That’s what this was all about? Boxers?” After saying this, everyone – except Connor and me – started laughing all over again.
I got pissed at them, so I stormed away. Unfortunately for me, so did Connor. We both stormed into the kitchen, fuming at my idiotic friends and brother, and reached for the fridge. He pulled it open and I crawled underneath his arm and grabbed two apple juices, handing one to him as I struggled with my cap. He set his down and helped me open mine, I smiled a bright smile at him and gulped down half the bottle. I smiled at him and licked my lips.
I heard laughter from the doorway. Chris and Blake were rolling around on the floor, holding their sides and tears streaming down their faces; Ali leaning against Toto, her face flushed a dark pink, his lips pressed tightly together to keep his laugh inside; QB on his knees, his body shaking from laughter, and shaking his head from side to side. I looked at Connor in confusion; he looked at them with a smirk on his lips… amusement in his eyes. I looked back at them and tilted my head to the side, furrowing my brow.
“Is it always like this?” Ali asked, finally controlling her giggles. Toto just nodded his head, his eyes closed, trying hard to stop from laughing.
“Always like what?” I asked, tilting my head to the other side.
“You two get into an argument, start to get physical, your brother gets in the middle of it and gives a lecture, and then you two storm off into the kitchen to get apple juice and act like the argument never happened,” Chris answered. I tilted my head back to the other side and shook my head, still confused.
“Whatever, I don’t wanna hang
It had been 8:30 when I went down there, and I was crawling, literally, into my room at – I looked over at my nightstand for my alarm clock. It wasn’t there. I remembered I threw it into the corner of the room. I looked at it, hoping by some miracle that it was still working. It was in pieces, with bits sticking out here and there. I looked back at my nightstand and spotted my phone. I continued to crawl forward, reaching my phone. I flipped up the cover, and looked down at the time, 11:45. My friends are coming over in fifteen minutes. I flopped down on my butt, my legs underneath me, and looked at the mirror. My hair was still defying gravity, my were even redder – if that’s possible, my skin was flush from working on the kitchen, my pajama bottoms – still twisted in a very uncomfortable angle – were rolled up past my knees, my shirt even lower and twisted to the side of my body. Everywhere had food somewhere. And to top it off, I still hadn’t showered.
Being the lazy ass I was, I dialed the house phone from my cell. It rang and rang and rang – it rang so much I was tempted to answer it myself, but that would be pointless. Finally, someone picked up, “What do you want, bitch?” an annoyed Conner asked.
“I’m calling to tell you that I am going to shower. My friends are coming over it,” I paused as I looked down at the time, “ten minutes. If I’m not out by then, please let them in. And be nice… And don’t rape them. Please relay the message to Toto and QB. Thank you.” Before he could even get a word in, I hung up the phone and crawled over to my closet, looking for clothes to wear. I couldn’t see anything but my shoes from the floor, so I slooooooowly stood up – so slowly, a turtle could’ve beat me if it were a race.
Once I was on my feet, I pulled out the top drawer – I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I thought it would’ve been easier to have all my clothes in one place, so I had QB build drawers into the closet and nail a shoe rack in for, obviously, my shoes – and pulled out: a bra, a sports bra, underwear, some short biker’s shorts, boxers I stole from… Toto I think, and a wife beater. I pulled out the second drawer and pulled out a tight short-sleeved black shirt that stopped right above my belly button. When I pulled that out, I opened the top drawer back up and put the wife beater back in. Lastly, I opened the last drawer and pulled out some long cargo pants that fit tight around my hips but were baggy everywhere else. I went back into the top drawer and pulled out some black “No Nonsense” socks. I looked at my shoe rack and grabbed my black converse.
I left my shoes and socks by my bed but brought everything else with me into the bathroom. I turned the shower on and let the water run. I looked at myself in the mirror before the fog shielded my vision, like I always did before I showered. I looked at my cherry red hair that went down to the top of my butt – well, it used to be flaming red. My mom likes to say I “destroyed my beautiful locks” that looked so much like hers, but I just died it. I left the top red, but died the bottom a bright orange with hot pink streak. ‘I actually like my hair mother, and that’s the only opinion that matters,’ I thought with a sharp nod of my head, my eyebrows furrowed. I looked at my amber eyes, tilting my head to the side, smiling as the gold flecks caught in the light. I looked at my petite nose, freckles splattered over the bridge of it, and my full, red lips. I stepped back and looked at my figure. I was slim in the waist, but had… a lot of me at the hips and breasts. I looked down the length of my long legs and wiggled my toes, I giggled at the silliness of toes.
I looked back at the mirror but couldn’t see anything, fog in my way. So I turned and hopped in the shower. I looked at my selection of shampoo and body wash. Use the men’s 3-in-1 body wash and smell like a dude, or use the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash for women and smell like flowers. Being the lazy person I am, the choice was easy. The 3-in-1, hands down.
After stepping out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around my wet hair, and dried my body off. I lotion-ed up and clothed. I looked at my reflection and smiled. ‘Teeth. Brush those things,’ I thought to myself, scrunching my nose up and looking away. After brushing my teeth, I let my hair down and blew it out. I straightened it and looked back at my reflection. I don’t wear that much make-up, I was lazy and I didn’t have pimples to cover up. I leaned into the mirror, lips puckered and applied and thick coat of clear lip gloss. I closed one eye, applied a thick line of eye liner and mascara to my long eye lashes. I did the same to the other eye.
I walked out and turned my back to the door, leaning down to put my shoes and socks on again, hoping that no one would walk in while I bent over. But me and my jinxing mouth, just haaaaad to say that right when my door was pushed open, “Hey, your…” Connor’s words trailed off as he caught sight of my underwear.
“Uhhhhhhhhhhm… … … Well, this is awkward… … …” I said as an attempt to break the tension, but only created more.
“Why the fuck are you wearing my boxers?” Connor asked, his face red with rage.
“Oh, these were yours? Huh, I guess you learn something new every day,” I said, dead serious.
“Take them off… Take them off, right the FUCK now!”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, take my fucking boxers off, right now,” he said slowly, as if I were a child that refused to understand something.
“Hell no! I’m wearing them, and am not about to take them off. So you can get over yourself,” I said harshly as I tried to brush past him.
But he caught me roughly by the arm and pushed me up against the wall, “Take them off, now, or I will take them off for you.”
I shoved against his chest, vaguely noting that he wasn’t wearing a shirt and was slightly wet, ‘He must of just gotten out of the shower,’ I thought stupidly. I didn’t say anything, so he must have taken that as the cue to take the boxers off me himself, because next thing I know, he’s unbuttoning my pants. I push against his chest harder, trying to get the bastard off me, but he wouldn’t budge, “Damn giant, get the fuck off me before I scream rape,” I threatened, glaring at his hateful ass.
He chuckled at me – he CHUCKLED at ME, damn bastard – and put a hand over my mouth just as my pants hit the floor. My eyes widened as he reached for the boxers just as Toto, QB, Alice Fay Johnson, Christina Bloom Sanders, and Carter Blake Sanders rounded the corner. Connor and I looked over at them… They looked at us… and started laughing. I got mad, “Don’t just stand there laughing! Get this giant off me before he rapes me!”
At the word “rape”, QB, being the over-protective brute that he is, stopped laughing and tackled Connor, sadly bringing me with them. So, instead of being squished up between a wall of plaster and muscle, I was now sandwiched in between two walls of muscle. Toto, Ali (Alice Fay), Chris (Christina Bloom) and Blake (Carter Blake) started laughing harder. I sighed in frustration as QB started lecturing Connor on sexual harassment and shit. I would’ve laughed with my friends – the look on Connor’s face was priceless – but I was still sandwiched between the two bastards… and losing air quick.
Five minutes of lecturing, and five minutes of slowly dying, QB finally got off me – and Connor – and I gulped down a big swallow of air – my face probably have gone purple – and rolled off Connor, quickly standing up to pull my pants back up. My friends, the great people that they were, just stood off to the side laughing their asses off. ‘Buttwipes!’ I yelled at them through my mind.
Connor, being the asshole that he is, not letting the boxers go, said, “I WILL get my boxers back, whether you like it or not,” snarling at me like the savage that he was.
“BOXERS?!?!?!” Toto but in. “That’s what this was all about? Boxers?” After saying this, everyone – except Connor and me – started laughing all over again.
I got pissed at them, so I stormed away. Unfortunately for me, so did Connor. We both stormed into the kitchen, fuming at my idiotic friends and brother, and reached for the fridge. He pulled it open and I crawled underneath his arm and grabbed two apple juices, handing one to him as I struggled with my cap. He set his down and helped me open mine, I smiled a bright smile at him and gulped down half the bottle. I smiled at him and licked my lips.
I heard laughter from the doorway. Chris and Blake were rolling around on the floor, holding their sides and tears streaming down their faces; Ali leaning against Toto, her face flushed a dark pink, his lips pressed tightly together to keep his laugh inside; QB on his knees, his body shaking from laughter, and shaking his head from side to side. I looked at Connor in confusion; he looked at them with a smirk on his lips… amusement in his eyes. I looked back at them and tilted my head to the side, furrowing my brow.
“Is it always like this?” Ali asked, finally controlling her giggles. Toto just nodded his head, his eyes closed, trying hard to stop from laughing.
“Always like what?” I asked, tilting my head to the other side.
“You two get into an argument, start to get physical, your brother gets in the middle of it and gives a lecture, and then you two storm off into the kitchen to get apple juice and act like the argument never happened,” Chris answered. I tilted my head back to the other side and shook my head, still confused.
“Whatever, I don’t wanna hang
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