She woke up today at nine with Saturday in the Park stuck in her head. She took a shower, put her growing hair in a ponytail purely because she can (barely), cleaned her room for a few hours, then went out to The Part of Town Where the Rich People Live with her mother and 26.
They first went to 1 1/2 music stores, where she salivated much and 26 was stalked by creepers. They then voyaged to an Apparently Yuppie Sandwich Place where she snarfed a grilled cheese sandwich and a gigantic brownie. They proceeded to various thrift and home improvement stores, accompanied by hand sanitizer, and at last ended up at Wally World.
It was about this time that our heroine peered under her wart remover bandaid to check up on her disgusting thumb wart. To her joy, it looked like it could now be pulled out, so she did. It hurt. It also bled. A lot. When it didn't stop after twenty seconds, she thought she might need assistance. Mother and 26 were looking at some rat puppies in the parking lot.
"Mother."
Mother: "D'AWWW IT'S SO CUTE"
"Mother."
"Mother."
"Mom, I need a bandaid."
"Mother."
"Jeri I seriously need a bandaid."
*poke* "Mother my thumb is bleeding really badly."
*maternal horrified gasp*
*sororal disgust*
They walked awkwardly into Walmart, the mother (rather pale) to purchase some bandaids, her daughter (indifferent) to look at flower pots, and her other daughter (also indifferent) to wash her thumb off in the bathroom. After it stopped bleeding, she noticed the root was still in there. She pulled it out. It bled. A lot.
She now possesses the after-thrift-store feeling, a secondhand shirt, and a giant bloody crater in her thumb.
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