#puckerman para

There are three things a Puckerman is good at, 1.) Sex, there is pheromone pumping through our veins that screams, 'I will make you question Moses when I'm done with you.' 2.) Charm, uh hello, that's self explanatory and 3.) Revenge, we can serve it hot, cold, lukewarm. Doesn't really matter. I, personally, think that maybe I can take things a little too far but I haven't spent the night in jail since I was 16 so I've gotten a lot better at it. I crawl up on the roof and sit down putting my paintball gun together, this isn't just any paintball gun, this is a automatic, continuous action gun with a scope. And I am fully stocked and loaded to last for at least a few hours. 

I look through the scope staring right at the book store, there is my manager. He hasn't learned his lesson, after daddy forced me back in there he is still looking down my shirt. I can deal with all of the stares, sexual comments, and blah blah blah but touch my ass and you pay big for it. I am Puck and he is now my pray, I'm gonna explode. 

"This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine. My rifle is my best friend." I let off the first shot hitting someone walking into the store, "It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life." I whistle taking another shot, right in the face, that's gonna leave a bruise, "My rifle, without me, is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless. I must fire my rifle true." He's finally walked out and he's looking around, it's time to really fuck some shit up. I hold the trigger down, hitting him over and over again until it's empty. I jump up. 

"River Fucking Puckerman!"

You have never felt so alive in your life, there is something about being on stage that just drives you. You teach classes between and after classes and you really dance at night. You get down to your panties before quitting, it's not really as degrading as it seems; a lie you continue to tell yourself. But you never really think about the down side and the bright side, a curtain drops when you pick up your money. And you have time to do homework a lot of the girls have great stories and they let you use it for stories. You get tragically wrapped in their bubble.

With each passing day your dad talks less and less to you, especially after you burned up the books at the store. You feel desperately alone and cling to your pillow nightly. No one is around to listen to you. But you are funny, pretty damn sexy, and a fucking sex shark. No one should ever know that you call yourself a 'sex shark'. But you're your own g-damn spirit animal, you roar in the morning, it's a ritual. You use to do it with your dad every morning when you still lived together. You roar, you're an 18 year old college student and you fucking roar. Dear God, you need friends.