The next chapter! (Johnny)
- “Damnit. Damnit! Damnit!! Damnit!!!” He said louder and louder as he hopped up each individual stair. He was moving so quickly up the stairs, he wasn’t paying attention to his rapidly moving bare feet. In an awkward rush, he caught the top stair with the edge of his foot and tripped. A full on trip, and faceplanted on the floor. Landing square on his nose, he then rolled over, and felt the trickle of blood run down the side of his face and onto the abraisive carpeting next to him. The pain began to sink in at this point. He reached for the bridge of his nose and pulled himself together. He stood up shakily and rubbed the stain of blood from the carpet, then ran into the bathroom, grabbing a sheet of kleenex. He ripped the tissue in half and stuck a half a sheet in each of his leaking nostrils, this would be fine for the time being. Completely ignoring the fluid dripping from his face, Johnny proceeded to ready himself for his big night. He entered his room and made a mad dash for his closet. Nearly ripping the pullstring from the only light in his cramped closet with one mighty tug, he scanned the closet for somthing acceptable to wear. He didn’t even want to check the time at this point, he was too scared of what the result would be. Carrying on, he finally found a suitable outfit after what seemed like an eternity. His outfit consisted of an old pair of Bullhead skinny jeans, one of the first he ever bought. A light blue, long sleeved plaid shirt with denim patches stiched where the elbows would rest (modified by himself, ofcourse.). And without a doubt, the piece del resistance, his oldest pair of black Converse high tops, which had many different what he liked to call “battle scars” on them, and each one of them undoubtedly had its own back story. His Converse were his “Going out on the town” shoes, he wore them whenever he wanted to stand out, because they were ofcourse conversation starters. He loved them so much because they age like fine wine, the older they get, they better and more valuable to the owner they are. He then began the process that he had developed and always followed for putting on skinny jeans. This process goes as follows: 1.) Stand on bed, jeans in hand. 2.) Hold jeans out in front of self, just as if roughly sizing them in a mirror in a changing room of your favorite store. 3.) Make a leap of faith into them and land on the floor with a loud, reassuring thud. 4.) Adjust boxers so they aren’t uncomfortable, and dont stick out of waist. 5.) Grin like an idiot and be proud of another job well done. 6.) Feel lucky that the floor didnt colapse under weight and hope it never happens. Continuing on, Johnny swiftly threw on his shirt, pulled on some socks. Biting his lip, he pulled the Ipod out of his pocket and checked the time. “…NO!” He dropped his Ipod on his counter. He picked up his shoes and dashed out of the room, there was no time to put them on now, he had to drive to Jenny’s barefoot. He grabbed the keys to his car and sped out of the front door. The clock on the stove read 7:05 P.M…
