Chapter 1
Chapter One
Regina George Style
It was a cold morning, just like every other morning in Northern Ontario. And just like every other morning, V woke up, hit her girlfriend with a pillow until she woke up, then attempted to make coffee. Then, her now irritated girlfriend would stumble into the kitchen, push V out of the way, mumble something about ‘Americans not knowing how to make real coffee’ then make coffee. V would then pour too much milk into her coffee because of fascination with the milk bag-
Okay no, it wasn’t fascination. Mild, wonder, a slight case of curiosity. Listen, if you’re gonna tell my story, say it right.
Fine.
She would get distracted by the concept of bagged milk, and pour too much into her coffee.
Better?
Much.
Anyways.
Everything went the way it was supposed to on that day. V would shout at her girlfriend about how Andrew Garfield would treat her better, then Ryan, her girlfriend, would make comment about how Andrew Garfield sounded like an old pervert. Before V could make a comment about how she’d let that pervert do anything to her, Ryan would silence her with a quick kiss, and V would be content again. Up until Ryan accidentally-on-purpose called Andrew Garfield, Anderson Garfunkel. Then a repeat of the previous situation.
By 10am, Ryan would leave for her writing course, or history course, or whatever she was starting with that morning, and V would make her way to the nearest convenience store to buy hundreds of dollars worth of junk food-
Okay first of all, fuck you Miss Narrator. Second of all, I didn’t go get junk food, you dingbat.
First of all, don’t fucking assume my gender, twat. Secondly, you’re right. You went and got more bagged milk even though your fridge was already overflowing with it.
That’s not even true either, fuckface.
Fine, I’ll put the truth.
After Ryan would leave, V would bask in the glory of not having to be in university for an extra year, and would go for a walk around the neighbourhood.
Now, this is where everything changes. V made a choice that day that changed her life.
You mean fucking ended that shit. Like boom. Done. Ended. Life has been cut. Badabing badaboom. Done. Finite.
Shut up and let me be dramatic, god fucking dammit.
Chill. God, someone woke up on the wrong side of the angel cloud.
I’m going to ignore you now.
You sound exactly like my girlfriend. Do that again, but roll your eyes in an over exaggerated manner.
Most days, V would head through the neighbourhood and talk to the few people she could tolerate, including her best friend, Meg, otherwise known as Mignon. These two would often talk about Anderson Garfunkel- sorry, Andrew Garfield, and Mignon would mention how much she shipped Ryantina. V would roll her eyes and say she hated Ryan, but the smallest of smiles would appear on her face.
No fuck you, I hate that bitch.
No you don’t.
No I don’t.
But on that day, V chose a different path.
Literally.
She decided to go downtown, check out some kiosks, buy clothes she will probably only wear once in her lifetime.
I didn’t even get the chance to wear them once. That’s the saddest part.
Seriously? The saddest part of you dying and leaving behind all your loved ones, is not being able to wear clothes?
Well when you put it like that...
She was walking across the street when it happened.
She had spotted a store that looked slightly kooky, and suspected it either held fandom merchandise, or kinky sex items, and she was willing to figure out which they were selling.
Unfortunately, she never did find out whether it was sex toys or merchandise from her favourite fandoms.
I’m still not sure. There’s a fine line between the two.
It happened very quickly. There was a honk, the sound of tires screeching, and a few faint shouts. But V didn’t hear them. As she felt the impact the Greyhound bus, there was only one feeling, or, more of a thought, she had.
What a lame fucking way to die.
Like seriously. Does the author have something against super attractive Latinas with a love for bagged milk?
V, you’re breaking the fourth wall again.
There’s no fourth wall when you’re dead, numb nut.
