@antonthebass || closed location: VV house, noon.
The repurposed cardboard box hit the kitchen counter with a cacophony of its contents, bottles of various spirits demanded requested by the boys. It’d taken a disgruntled Sonny ten whole minutes of kicking his way through the mess just to make it to the kitchen at all--- a feat that could not be accomplished without at least twelve swears.
This was why he stuck with staying in the guest house, a choice he thanked himself for on the daily.
Irritated, he ashed his cigarette in the sink before moving to the stairs, ignoring the young women passed out on the couch in the living room.
“You mean to tell me you LOT HAVE BEEN LIVING LIKE THIS?” he shouted up them, hoping to stir any sleeping young punks. “I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU’RE DOING. YOU NEED TO STRAIGHTEN THIS PLACE OUT. I AIN’T YOUR FUCKIN’ MAID.”
