butter outta cream

"i’m honestly not sure if you could help me. honestly i just decided to come over and meet my new neighbors. is it a bad time here?”

     "no, 's alright. i was just making dinner for      when my parents come home. you could      join us if you want to. 'm frank. or frankie."

actual five year old Frank Abagnale Jr

       she’ll grant him a sneer at the        question. “what, you’ve never        heard of public school?”

      "i've only heard rumors as to how       unruly it is." a cheeky grin as he       manages a reply.

       “fat chance finding anyone that’ll         actually help you. but you’re in         luck, dweeb. i happen to be         heading there now.”

     "so lucky." of course, he'll      follow after her anyway, eyes      flitting around the hallway.      "do you not have a uniform      here ?"

    “what, you can’t use shampoo or      read? how the fuck did you get to      high school in the first place?”

     "thanks for the help. i guess i'll      find someone who can actually      provide me with the information      i need." 

       “you should be.”

     "my hair's not even— alright. um,      do you know where room 3-101      is ?" might as well ask her since      nobody else seems eager to      speak to him.

        “if your hair wasn’t so GREASY,          you might be halfway attractive.”

    "i'm sorry ?" well, that was a decent     start to a new school. who does this     chick think she is ?