if there was any perk to an absent father, it would be having the house to himself almost every weekend. brad's parties were always a blast, and no one in their right mind would ever miss one of his parties unless they were a total loser. the teen had spent the majority of his saturday afternoon setting up for the festivities. in his backyard were carelessly strung lights tracing the fence that enclosed their small patio and smaller pool. he assumed with the summer heat that people would want to swim, so he left the pool uncovered. a table was set up just outside the house's sliding back door that held various kinds of chips and a bowl of salsa for good measure. below the table was a red one filled with various kinds of liquor and a blue one with soda. he also had set up his old trusty boombox. brad was a sucker for eighties music, and the speaker would most likely be playing from his custom 'rad party mix' cd all night long. one could never have a complete party without that damn boombox.
brad then had to get himself ready. his long chestnut brown hair took a lot of effort to make manage and he would need to pick an gnarly outfit also. it was tough being so attractive sometimes. he rushed back inside and to the bathroom to shower briefly. once he was done getting himself looking pretty, he changed into a loosely unbuttoned white blouse (gotta show off that bod), paired with a pair of blue swim shorts and birkenstocks. the boy looked back at himself in the mirror and winked, saying,"brad, you're just fine as fuck aren't cha?", with a snicker as he left the room and descended down the stairs, through the kitchen and back through the sliding door.
now, all was he had to do was wait. brad didn't really have too many friends, despite his popularity. he knew he wasn't the nicest, and that people only liked him because of his fake id and wild parties. deep down, brad was completely okay with that. after all, he was a sucker for attention and an excuse to exhibit his addictions in a way that looked cool. lord, that was emo. the kid took a seat in a plastic chair, lit a cigarette, and cranked up his boombox. ah yes, africa by toto. a grin crept across his features, and he leaned back as he exhaled smoke and waited for anyone to show themselves.
actions "speech"
brad then had to get himself ready. his long chestnut brown hair took a lot of effort to make manage and he would need to pick an gnarly outfit also. it was tough being so attractive sometimes. he rushed back inside and to the bathroom to shower briefly. once he was done getting himself looking pretty, he changed into a loosely unbuttoned white blouse (gotta show off that bod), paired with a pair of blue swim shorts and birkenstocks. the boy looked back at himself in the mirror and winked, saying,"brad, you're just fine as fuck aren't cha?", with a snicker as he left the room and descended down the stairs, through the kitchen and back through the sliding door.
now, all was he had to do was wait. brad didn't really have too many friends, despite his popularity. he knew he wasn't the nicest, and that people only liked him because of his fake id and wild parties. deep down, brad was completely okay with that. after all, he was a sucker for attention and an excuse to exhibit his addictions in a way that looked cool. lord, that was emo. the kid took a seat in a plastic chair, lit a cigarette, and cranked up his boombox. ah yes, africa by toto. a grin crept across his features, and he leaned back as he exhaled smoke and waited for anyone to show themselves.
actions "speech"
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