Isn't that the way old timey people talk about football? Throw around the ol’ pigskin?
Whatever. The football isn't the point. [She puts the knight down on the wrong side of the board and picks her giant purse up that she snagged from the costume room a while ago, and digs through it. Once she’s rustled past all the liquor bottles and the bag of cell phone rice —- Oh. There it is. She whips out the death note.]
It’s a sport. And I’m a cheerleader, so it’s my job to cheer on our team. They really suck, by the way, so we were really the only reason anyone showed up for the games. Still are, I guess, but not because we’re good. [She opens the death note. ... Oh boy, Farrah’s really gone to town here. She flips through at least five double sided pages of death wishes for Riley, which are all tiny, neatly written, and have creative ways of death like “eating her own college admissions essay” or “literally melting after finding out she’s in last place on the class ranking”.]
So we dance and chant and do tricks and stuff. Only, this time—- [There’s a page with only one line written on it, and it’s struck through, like she’s felt guilty about it. Something about Clark and a bad hair day.]
This girl. Chess. She fucked up. And dropped me. And everyone saw. [Jesus Christ, Farrah. There are even more pages of death wishes against Chess, with very creative and public and humiliating ways of death listed.]
no subject
Whatever. The football isn't the point. [She puts the knight down on the wrong side of the board and picks her giant purse up that she snagged from the costume room a while ago, and digs through it. Once she’s rustled past all the liquor bottles and the bag of cell phone rice —- Oh. There it is. She whips out the death note.]
It’s a sport. And I’m a cheerleader, so it’s my job to cheer on our team. They really suck, by the way, so we were really the only reason anyone showed up for the games. Still are, I guess, but not because we’re good. [She opens the death note. ... Oh boy, Farrah’s really gone to town here. She flips through at least five double sided pages of death wishes for Riley, which are all tiny, neatly written, and have creative ways of death like “eating her own college admissions essay” or “literally melting after finding out she’s in last place on the class ranking”.]
So we dance and chant and do tricks and stuff. Only, this time—- [There’s a page with only one line written on it, and it’s struck through, like she’s felt guilty about it. Something about Clark and a bad hair day.]
This girl. Chess. She fucked up. And dropped me. And everyone saw. [Jesus Christ, Farrah. There are even more pages of death wishes against Chess, with very creative and public and humiliating ways of death listed.]