desperate - part I

Click.

Click.

Click.

Clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclick.

And then began the profanities.

There were a lot of things that Arielle Apostolos did not appreciate on Tuesdays at three in the afternoon. One was nausea. Another was headaches. A third was unending, excruciating pain. But most of all, on that particular Tuesday at three in the afternoon, when nausea, headaches, and excruciating pain had been boxed into a neat little package of discomfort and tied up in a formaldehyde-laced ribbon, she deeply did not appreciate a truckload of the utter crap dubbed day time television. Even On-Demand featured nothing but sappy love ditties, and, on the other end of the Cinema Garbage spectrum, slasher thrillers- two genres that could only make her more sick.

Tossing the TV remote to her feet, Arielle pulled her laptop out from beneath the couch and let it buzz unpleasantly to life. It was days like this that instant messenger was her best friend, because it was her link to her best friends. With a click of the keyboard she exited out of AIM Dashboard, uninterested in the daily headline of Creepy Banjo Kid From Deliverance- Only Made Three Movies Since!

Whoever wrote that was having a slower day than she was.

Somewhere between the Rocky Statue and Cheesesteaks, Philadelphia should have been famous for its rate of students who spent their school day with their eyes glued to side-kick screens. Not one for statistics, Arielle would have found that disgusting any other day. In fact, most days, she publicly protested the use of phones with full keyboards by singing Barry Manilow at the top of her lungs whenever the piece of technological waste was brought out into the open. But that day, she would step off her ethical soap box and cut the instant-messengers a break; she now understood first-hand the dire need for electronic communication.

XxARxEExLxX - bored, sick, and in desperate need for mental stimulation before Legally Blonde Two fries my brain completely.

Well. She had put her plea for digital interaction out there, and now it was time to wait for someone- anyone at all- to reply, be her virtual White Knight in her damsel in distress moment. Curled up in Snoopy pajamas and knee socks plastered with Bart Simpson's head, Arielle let her eyes glide down her buddy list, stopping at one name...

...No. She dared not message him.

[yayyyyy crappy cliff hanger! if anyone has any ideas where this is going...or gives two cents...please let me know. :))) i'll be posting the continuation of this...piece...eventually! perhaps even tonight! huzzah! cheers!]