Long Hair, Don't Care

Sure, Mitchell.

They’re only meant to fit one person’s foot at a time, so yeah.

“Ew, Mitch, please.”

D is for dicks. It’s Donna. For the thousandth time. If either you or Charlie calls me anything else again, I’ll tell Bailey about what really happened to the hot tub.

I just got new skates, so I’m planning on going to break them later tonight.

“I’ve no idea what you mean.”

You get very close way too often.

"I run hot. Whatever.”

Wow, that’s a whole ass. In the middle of the cross walk.

“That’s fucked up, and people accuse me of being too nude.”

Oh…I was just changing ‘cause I gave my stinky pig-dog a bath. But you do you.

“Dude do not fear the shirtless life. What sort of dog?”

GIVE ME A MINUTE.

Oof. That was my bus.

“Oh dang, really? Well as the old French saying goes ‘say larvae’“.

I’ve never really paid attention to it. They’re just names. Anyone can change them. You could legally get it switched if you wanted. Hopefully Wyatt does at some point.

KFC is white people chicken. And yes, I know I am literally the shade of 2% milk, but I grew up on my Mamie’s food. That lightly breaded shit just doesn’t cut it for me.

“Woah, Wyatt got a cool name.”

How should I know? My mom was pretty drugged up when I popped out.

Easy. Popeye’s.

“Still, you lucked out, Kebi is a cool name, Mitchell is boring as fuck.”

Blow one up and I’ll do just that. Just don’t pass out.

“Pass out? I’m training to be an Olympic level swimming, I have incredible lung capacity.”

It matters a lot. It’s my name. I’ve built something behind it and I’m not going to let that get disregarded. Same as my dad. Even if we’re fucking idiots, everyone knows not to fuck with the Bonds.

I’d probably go with fried chicken.

“That’s great, I actually asked you what your mean meant, not why it matters. Down, girl.”

Put some respect on my name and maybe I won’t.

I’m a girl. I can call them sluts if it’s true. And I wouldn’t know, I’ve never actually paid attention. The nachos always steal my focus.

“What does it even mean, your name?”

Little Faline, if you ever call me that again, I’ll bust your lip open. You hear me?

No one here presently does, so go ahead and put a shirt on. Or maybe a turtle neck. Save it for your little pool sluts.

“Chill, Kebi, you don’t have to get so riled up.”

Or just straight up sunburnt.

Cover up, Faline. Nobody wants to see that.

“Don’t be a hater, Bondi.”

You’re going to get skin cancer at this rate.

“I am not. I’m going to get an ungodly sexy tan.”

I know I am.

I’d love to not sweat my balls off from morning ‘til night. I feel gross just…all the time.

“You should probably air your balls out more then, maybe sit in a kiddie pool.”