There's one thing I hate more than my ridiculously-long name and spiders- Mondays. Seriously though, what kind of parents name their daughter a name like 'Cairistiona'?! Who has the time to even say it? Just imagine the dramatic moment when a lover is dying in my arms, unable profess his love for me just because he's dying and doesn't have the time to say my entire name and "I love you".
Anyways, back on topic. Mondays. The bane of everyone's existence. Why Mondays exist, I cannot fathom. If I was still in school, it would be the day when we return to hell and face the demonic teachers. But now, not only is it the day when work starts, it's the day when I have the last shift in the local cafe I work part-time, thus leading to me walking home in the dark-, and an annoying jock from high school suddenly comes to hit on me, really, how does someone like him graduate from kindergarten?
"Hey babe, miss me? Lookin' hot like usual!" He said, leaning on the counter wearing a 'charming' smirk.
I ignored him.
He cleared his throat, speaking a little louder, "Hey babe! Miss me?"
I continued to ignore him.
He started to look a little uncomfortable, raising his voice again, "Um, hey! Babe, miss me?"
At my lack of reaction, he fidgeted a little, opening his mouth to speak, "H-"
"I'm not deaf." I snapped impatiently, "But I am busy, so would you please order something to drink and piss off?"
He smirked(it reminds me of a constipated fish), "Feisty, I like it! You know what they say, the feisty ones are the sexy ones that are best in bed." I gave him an icy glare that could freeze hell-which he ignored, "I'll stop once you give me your number."
And it would go on from there. Anyways, you get the point. But this shit ain't the only crap that happens on Mondays, because Mondays are the days when our very own slut has the same shift at me. Becky says the manager only hired her because her big tits and booties attract more customers. Rumors say she fucked the manager to get a spot in the local cafe! Great(note the sarcasm)! But that's not it. Right, not only do I have to deal with the annoying jock and Katy flirting after he leaves me alone, but somehow Mondays are always the day I end up spilling something. And if it's not me spilling it, someone spills it on me.
Last week, some busy teenage boy splattered his Ice Tea all over my work uniform. The fact that he was a teenager and a boy just made it worse. He wouldn't stop gawking at my slowly becoming see-through uniform, and the very visible red bra I just had to put on that day. His face was probably burning hotter than mine, which is saying a lot since my face burns hotter than a furnace in Dubai.
I started seeing him hanging outside the cafe, and I swear he was deliberately staying close to the windows to stare at me. His red cheeks gave him away. Yep, so after a week I snapped and after my shift stomped outside and told him to "motherfucking leave" if he wasn't gonna come inside and buy something, and that he should stop acting like "some weird-fucking-o creep that'll stalk me, rape me then murder me in my motherfucking sleep"
His face looked kinda pale after I ranted to him. Yeah and he walked away pretty fast too…. I wonder why.
Well you get the point right? If you didn't…. Point is: Mondays are my bad luck days. My most hated day. And a day that comes every 7 days, or every once a week.
I looked around my single-bedroom apartment. Plain white walls gazed back at me, in a bored fashion. My new apartment held a living room, an open kitchen, one bedroom and one bathroom. It's pretty much a suite, small, just enough to hold basic needs.
I don't need much anyways.
I did ponder over whether I should share an apartment with a friend or something. Frankly, the thought of living alone seemed better. Besides, a small apartment like this one is much cheaper, and I can support myself and pay for the rent just fine.
Now, all I gotta do is find a job, buy a couch, and have some beautiful cup noodles for dinner.