Laurent Monologue

During our last contact at work when Micah was training me at the front counter, I felt inadequate because he kept starring, and it made me feel out of my usual element for a moment. He noticed my nervousness and asked if I wanted to take it easy instead, and I asked, “WHAT IS IT WITH YOU?” He responded that he is AMUSED by me.

I pushed the arm in front of me even deeper into the guy’s throat. It was much harder than it had been the first time and I felt his Adam's apple push into my skin.

Jesus christ! Haha. This is basically the best post I've ever read on here. Sorry for the late reply.

I am writing to you on the behalf of the terrible accident that happened the other day with me and your darling son Theodore. I just wanted to clear this up for you, so you don’t have to report it to the state generals office. Here is what actually happened...

The guilt only seeped through the cracks when he least expected it, and no place was safe. Not the stillness of the forest, not in Leona's voice or Logan's. Wherever he was, it was too, waiting for a split second of vulnerability to bury its fangs within, Benson was a tiny white mouse in a glass tank with a Burmese python who hadn't eaten in months. There was no escape, no matter how many times he cracked his skull against the glass, it wouldn't break. He was too weak.

The air reeked of alcohol, the intoxicated breaths of young people colliding together over drunken slurs to create one distinct scent. She kept her head low as she made her way through the maze made by the seemingly endless crowd. Full of regrets, she was doing all she could to get out of there, the distraction turning out to be nothing more than a few drinks with people who didn't even know when her birthday was. The song finished abruptly, followed by simultaneous cheering. She kept moving, weaving in and out of people with fierce determination until she walked right into him. She murmured a quick apology and went to continue when the familiarity of the figure in front of her hit. She hesitantly looked up, heart dropping into her stomach at the mere sight of him.

In this essay, I will be analyzing a character from the play Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare. By seeing how intense the passion was between Romeo and Juliet in this play, it’s not hard to see that the main theme of this play is love. The character that I will be analyzing will be Tybalt. The tension between Tybalt and Romeo was significant. So much so, that Romeo killed Tybalt later in the play which resulted in him being tossed into exile by the prince. What indirectly caused this fatal encounter was when Romeo attended the Capulet’s ball and Tybalt wasn’t too happy about his presence. In this essay, I will go into more detail about the two ways how Tybalt affected the outcome of this play.

I stare at him with a blank expression, trying to figure out whether to stay mad at him or forgive him. It’s a hard decision since I haven’t seen him in person for over ten years. “Okay, fine. but please tell me if you’re coming home in a few years or not. You said last time we talked that you would know for sure.”

I push the cracked oak wood tavern door open. Eyes sweep across the room falling on me. Wearing a dark hood and cloak concealing all but my piercing ice blue eyes and half of my nose. My wide chest, wiry arms, thick legs and my two swords also hidden away underneath my cloak. I’ve been growing my beard out, short cropped it isn’t much to deal with. The tavern is laid thick with the scents of; stale alcohol, fresh bread, and charred savory meat roasting on the spit in the center of the tavern. In the opposite corner of the tavern sits a table bathed in shadows with four armed individuals.

Lori definitely mentioned Larry being sneaky and being scared for his job. She said he's been doing other sneaky things around there too. She said that Mr. Dates doesn't play games and he enjoys our relationship and has made it very clear to Larry not to entertain Alpha Dog. I'll remind you on Monday to reach out to Harry, and I'll add you to the Tuesday invites.

I guess you could say I am a woman with a past. I am a woman, and I didn't come from nowhere, so the rest must follow. On more than one occasion I've heard, or rather, overheard, myself described that way. "She's a woman with a past." At first it made me nervous (What do they mean, what are they thinking?), even a little angry (Who are they and what business is it...), but then I thought, well, of course I have a past. I'm thirty years old and I didn't just appear out of thin air. I mean, everybody has a past. Don't they? Everybody comes from some¬where. Everybody has a past.

Surrounded by crowds of people sharing the same thought; are we really getting home today? Pepsi is too anxious. Vomiting all over himself and his new uniform. Sunshine lays into him, cussing and screaming. Laughter erupts! Growing rowdier as Doc yells “No matter what don’t stop us now, I’ll fix him”. Close knit groups of friends are scattered around having vivid discussions of the first thing they are going to do when they’re finally off. Grady chimes in on a conversation with his deep southern accent trying to imitate his favorite musician, DJ Screw saying “Man shiiitttt first thing I’m going to do is grab me a bottle, some shrimp, and sit my ass in the tub”. Craw Daddy can’t help but tease Grady, by reminding him to lay off the alcohol

“Sweetie? Where are you going?” I heard my mother’s faint voice call out from the kitchen. I was standing at the front door, halfway through opening it when I heard her voice. It was Oli’s, my best friend’s, birthday and her, Angelo, and Dante, were going to Las Vegas to spend her special weekend.

As we were driving back to the Sidemen House I tried keeping my eyes on the road but everything we stopped I had to look at her even if it was for a split second. As I looked at her I remembered the kiss we shared when we finished the Q an A. I knew we needed to talk about it but I didn't want to.

Just the mention of her name sends bolts of fiery pain shooting into my chest nearly rendering me incapable of breathing in any more of the heavy school building air. But more than that - how dare he compare Mack to his warped and tainted perception of me?