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Housewives that masturbate like strippers whores: a slutty housewife is simply the best!!
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by Ann Douglas Friday afternoon couldn't have come too soon for the students of Peterson High School. It was the first week of June and they had less than two weeks to go until graduation. For Michael Rossi and Bobby Williams, it meant that in ten short days they would finish their years at Peterson and move onto bigger and better things. In Bobby's case it was a football scholarship at State, and for Mike Rossi a chance to study Industrial Arts at Brookfield U. "I thought that English Lit class would never end." Bobby said as they headed for the bus stop on the corner. "I can't seem to understand Hamlet, they speak so funny. You never know what they're talking about." "Well you better figure it out real quick." Mike said to his longtime pal. "Cause Old Man Winters is a bug on Shakespeare, and Hamlet is supposed to be his favorite. You know he's going to put it on the final." "Shit," Bobby groaned. "I'm screwed then. I even got those Monarch Notes, but they still didn't help." "Tell you what," Mike said as he suddenly stopped. "How bout you take my story notes home over the weekend. Read then tomorrow and I'll come over Sunday and go over with them with you." "That'd be great." Bob said, the relief in his voice evident. "What am I ever going to do without you when I get to State." "Properly fail," Mike joked. "But by then you'll be someone else's problem." The larger boy joined in the laughter and slapped Mike on the back. They had been friends since the ninth grade. Even back then, Bobby had been a jock. Mike on the other hand had been a skinny, pale little kid who more than earned the title nerd. He was the kind of kid that always seem to get beat up by the bigger guys. That was until the day Bobby Williams had come across a Junior about to deposit Mikey in a waste bin after he had spilled milk on his jacket. Bobby didn't know Mike from Adam, but he'd had a little brother who used to get picked on by the bigger kids. In fact, since Bobby was left back in the fifth grade, he was eighteen months older than the rest of his class. That made his little brother Steve only six months younger than Mike. From that point on, the two had formed an unlikely friendship. Mike had spent many a night tutoring Bobby in one subject or other. Bob in turn had helped his younger friend branch out in other areas that he normally wouldn't have approached. True, he wasn't about to try out for the football team, but he had long ago shed his nerd image. At least in appearance. Rummaging through his knapsack, Mike finally came up with a small red binder and handed it to Bobby. "Try not to drool on it when you eat." He said as his friend dropped the binder in his own carry case. "I realize that I'm asking a lot, but I do try to take care of my study notes." "Funny, Rossi, real funny." Came Bobby's reply. "There are times I wonder why I kept them from putting you out with the trash." Mike didn't seem to hear the comeback. His attention seemed to be concentrated on his knapsack as he sorted through it's contents looking for something. A worried look flashed across his face as he began to shift through the books and binders a second time. "Lose something? Bobby inquired. "My sketchbook," Mike replied as he looked a third time. "It's not here!" "You sure?" "Of course I'm sure," He answered, a tense anxiousness in his voice. "I've looked three times!" Michael's great love was drawing, and his sketchbook was his pride. Not that he ever showed it to anyone. Sure once and a while he would produce a portrait for someone after he had ripped it from the book, but no one ever saw the book itself. "Hey don't worry about it, it's just a book. I'll bet it's sitting in your locker or under your desk in one class or another." Bobby said as he glanced at his watch and saw that the bus would be there in a few minutes. "Don't worry about it, you'll get it Monday. The hard angry look he suddenly got from his friend told him he had said exactly the wrong thing. It was as if after causing a loosing fumble, Mike had told him football was only a game. "Ok, I'm a thick headed jock and don't know anything about art." Bobby apologized. "I know you're going to go back and look for it, do you want me to go back with you?" "Nah, I don't want you to be late for your job at McDonalds." Mike said, accepting the apology. "You might need those job skills some day." "It's a good thing you're such a hot shot artist, cause as a comedian you'd make a great waiter." |