Oct 21, 2007 01:45
They both stumbled up the stairs and back to room VII, where Pickles tossed his notepad onto the desk before dropping back into bed, still warm from their laying there.
"What kept you up, dude?" He asked, lighting a cigarette.
miniver,
pickles,
oom
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"I went fishing a lot, too. Found crayfish now and then, yeah. Man. And you and your drums and stuff... I wonder if we'd have been friends if we'd ever met as kids?"
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"Heh, probably not, I was a dick back then. And a bully. But only because if I wasn't one, I'd have been the most picked on kid in school. Ended up that way, anyway, when I started middle school."
He tossed the rest of his cigarette into the fire.
"Tell me about New York."
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He didn't know Miniver had it so rough growing up. It was pretty brutal, he thought, sipping at the brandy before setting the glass aside, empty.
"Hrm. Makes livin' in Wisconsin sound good." Pickles said offhandedly. "Really didn't have much trouble until I started gettin' older. Older brother kept gettin' into trouble, all the kids teased me because'a my hair and my clothes and shit. Ended up havin' to switch schools twice. By the time I was between my second and third high school, I ended up sayin' fuck it, and movin' to the coast." He shrugged, "Packed up my kit, bought a guitar, and moved to LA." He got a wistful smile, then.
"Still miss the woods sometimes."
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