[attr="class","johnny-img"]

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671 words for [break]
Sebastian Cursive

Hope this works! Figured the redirected anger route would be fun. :3

[attr="class","johnny-lyric2"]I'll bury myself in my bed

[attr="class","johnny-post"]



Frustration and anger fueled reckless decision-making. Throughout the school day, Johnny's phone lit similar to a Christmas tree. Endless text messages scrolled through his phone accompanied by countless f*cking calls. Everything inside him twisted nastily, a gradually burning fuse... Irritation bubbled beneath his skin, harshly as he stomped his way toward his hidden smoking place. Purple eyes glanced around before slipping into the bush and trees. The senior's backpack was grabbed, and cigarettes were hastily picked out from the bag. Dull packaging was fiddled with until Johnny found a cigarette to his lips.

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The nicotine stick lit, and the man began the rhythm of inhaling chemicals and exhaling smoke. A couple of puffs eased tension, the cigarette resting on his lip. The pack was returned to Johnny's backpack and zipped up to avoid curious eyes catching the brown packaging. Once settled, the teen brought up his phone to find Marion's motherf*cking number flashing on it. A groan escaped him as his head leaned back against the rough bark of the tree. This b*tch was getting on his f*cking nerves today! There were a few seconds of contemplation before with another annoyed groan, Johnny answered.

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"What the f*ck do you want?" He snapped out, voice low to avoid others listening.

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"Jonathan, honey! You haven't texted me in daaaays! You need to call more, and you should come see Frank and me! He's a real keeper, Jonathan, I promise," Marion whined and chirped through the phone. "I don't understand why you won't give him a chance! He will be your stepfather."

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"And I should care why?" He growled back.

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Annoyance showed in body language as Johnny shifted on his feet, eyes rolling and the cigarette was suddenly not doing much. A wailing echoed through the phone as his mother's upset was vocalized.

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"How can you be so mean to your father?!" She wailed through the phone. "You're supposed to love him... *hic* and we will be a happy family Jonathan! Why are you so cruel?! You always swear and say mean things! You're awful! You're why we can't be happy! You don't even try to be a good son and-"

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Words were broken between sobs and dramatized wails. A soured expression settled on Johnny's face as he inhaled another breath of nicotine to keep his mouth shut... Maybe if he survived this, the b*tch would cram it for a couple of days! ... Then he heard it... The thrumming of a f*cking guitar followed by singing... Another frustrated groan left Johnny at the sound. Was someone seriously around here?!


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"Jonathan! Jonathan! Answer me right now, mister! Ugh, you can be so awful to your own mother!" She whined through the phone.

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"I have to go, bye," he bluntly responded, hanging up before she could speak further.

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He f*cking hated this woman... F*cking hated this idiot who decided to play his guitar and sing at the most inconvenient time. The cigarette was finished and snuffed with Johnny's foot. The butt was pinched between fingers and shoved into his pocket... Evidence meant teachers would potentially stake out his smoking spot if a student found it. The backpack was hauled over Johnny's shoulder as he left the bush at a different angle. A glance around and he found the white-haired nuisance who could not find himself a more reclusive spot to practice his music!

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The blonde stomped his way over, crossing his arms as he approached. The blue-eyed idiot smiled at him, completely unaware of how obnoxious he was being!

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"Yeah, I do! My request is for you to f*cking cram it! Can't you go practice in the f*cking music room like everyone else?" The senior snapped out.

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The white-haired student had found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. His mother brought a boiling irritation into Johnny that would not be easily extinguished once it began. Forced interaction with the b*tch Johnny called his mother was a massive headache. Everything the woman did was for herself... and it frustrated the blonde to no end.

[attr="class","johnny-img"]

[attr="class","johnny-left"]

354 words for [break]
Sebastian Cursive

Hope this works! \o/

[attr="class","johnny-lyric2"]I'll bury myself in my bed

[attr="class","johnny-post"]



The white-haired annoyance's singing was not awful. Rather, it strayed on the side of being well-practiced and accompanying the guitar cords suitably... The problem was the f*cker's timing and placement! On any other day, Johnny would have accepted the background melody or outright ignored it, however, after an obnoxious onslaught of Marion's phone calls? F*ck everything and screw everybody else's happiness if they perturbed his world in this abysmal state. His phone was rendered unusable as she called, texted and f*cking fried the battery! Inside him anger was burning, lighting in his veins as though blood was gasoline and his emotions the match.

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An unimpressed growl escaped him as the idiot continued his little song. The scarred teen rolled eyes as the blue-eyed teen spoke to himself before addressing the issue at hand! Had this guy seen how he approached?! Could he not read the f*cking room?! Impatiently, Johnny listened to the white-haired annoyance's excuses... all reasonable, but Johnny was in a bad mood... Therefore nothing was sound in his assessments of the situation... Worsening the matter for the other student was the tacked-on reminder of how cigarettes were bad for him.

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"Yeah? Well, I don't give a f*ck! Consider it lucky I approached with words instead of fists, b*tch," he snapped back, stepping closer, eyes a glower. "Oh, wow... I had no f*cking clue about the smokes. Not like they all come with cancer or some other serious disease warnings! How could I have ever known when the package had a needle being poked directly into someone's eye?!"

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Sarcasm dripped off the blonde's mouth, condescending with every word. He hated when people needed to inform him cigarettes were unhealthy. As though the fact was not universally known or the risk was accepted. There was little beyond this freedom, therefore, why not light up some cancer sticks?! Once his mother pierced his skin with her talents, there would be limited opportunities to enjoy a calming hit of nicotine. Fist-balled hands were forced into Johnny's sweater, attempting to avoid trouble beyond his verbal lashings. He wanted to be left alone, not annoyed by singing brats.

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309 words for [break]
Sebastian Cursive

Alrighty, I realized I should have shown a reference! My apologies, I am Canadian and have parents who were former smokers and genuinely thought all cigarette, tobacco & cigar packages had massive warning labels until a few days ago. ^^' If you need to change anything, just lemme know and I can adjust my end too. That being said, bringing American cigarettes across the border is not impossible, so that can be an excuse or just the package not being there. ^-^ I only knew since my parents smoked and I worked in a convenience store.[break][break]

Anyways, this is what Canadian cigarette packaging, by law, is required to look like: [break]
Reference.

[attr="class","johnny-lyric2"]I'll bury myself in my bed

[attr="class","johnny-post"]



Pricks who pretentiously informed him of the dangers of tobacco when the packaging had a massive, disturbing warning label slapped over 90% of it. It made Johnny wonder if non-smokers assumed the sticks were sold in a little baggie similar to narcotics. The condescending person who informed him about the unhealthiness of cigarettes already annoyed him… and adding his self-centred mother into the mix added a can of kerosene to the aggravating fire burning inside the blonde. Who was this lowerclassmen motherf*cker who could not comprehend how leaving was his best option?! Brilliant purple eyes narrowed as sarcasm shot straight over his head. Had this f*cker never seen a cigarette package in his life? Well, he could Google it or some other poor sap could handle educating him!

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“Because the Canadian government requires, dumbass,” he snapped once more. “They don’t exactly like people smoking.”

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Constant warnings about blindness and the litany of potential cancers covered the front and back of the boxes; one in English, the other in French. The name Barb Tarbox was accidentally known to Johnny from curiously reading over labels informing those who indulged in nicotine of a woman who died. However, he ignored it. Beyond high school, nothing remained. His mother’s talons would bury into his shoulders and he would return to arguing with her while the depression ran him over… Nothing mattered… and that stitched into the swelling anger as Johnny reached for this idiot’s collar to pull him close.

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“Now I believe I told you to f*cking leave,” the senior growled out.

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Stress surmounted, and Johnny wanted nothing more than to march back into his smoking haven and finish his cigarette… maybe light another while he was at it. His mother would be redialing his number hundreds of times already! He could imagine the screen lit with text messages from the crazy b*tch.