Post by CLEO EVERETT on Aug 7, 2013 15:14:33 GMT -5
...Cleo Rhea Everett*
*Glub glub.*
[/size]*Glub glub.*
emma stone • cleo the goldfish, awakened • rewrite • dani
[/size] It’s my fucking body and my fucking choices, so shut the fuck up and let me live my own goddamn life!
Cleo Everett hasn’t been the same since the summer of 2006. Having grown up in New York her entire life, there were a lot of things she’d grown accustom to. Certain smells, various noises, people from all over the world. Not being able to walk down the street without somebody trying to sell you hot dogs or newspapers, without seeing some artist make beautiful canvases with spray paint and pots, without hearing the music from an instrument you’ve never seen before. You get used to a lot of things when they are a part of your every day routine, and Cleo was ju—
Hey.
Uh. Yes?
What the hell do you think you’re doing?
Telling… a story?
Yeah, my story! And I don’t appreciate the dramatics you’re using.
I’m not… am I being dramatic?
The definition of. Back off, I’m taking over from here.
Er, wait, no… I don’t think that’s how it—
Okay, baby darlings, let me tell you how this all actually went down.
The summer of 2006 was my first time ever going to the beach. And I’m not talking about Coney Island’s shitty little sandbox. I’m talking about a big long beach, all gold sand, and the wide expanse of ocean spread out before me, glittering turquoise. To any East coasters who tell you otherwise, fuck them. They’re disenchanted. They don’t see the beauty of it anymore. You get a first timer to go and you watch their eyes light up and their smiles get real big. It’s worth it. My mom took a video of my face and I watch it when I get sad or homesick.
Because yeah, the beach is my home. It’s true that I’ve lived in New York my entire life and that I’ve gotten used to all the things you see. You couldn’t surprise me with somebody streaking or a guy wearing nothing but a guitar and a pair of cowboy boots. Bring it the fuck on. The one and only time I went to the beach, though, everything surprised me. How pleasant somebody was even when a poorly served volleyball sprayed sand all up on their towel and into their book. Man, you pull that shit in New York and you get your ass beat. Everybody at the beach is tanned and accommodating. Oh, you need a good place for your stuff? I’m leaving now, have mine!
I haven’t been back since, and everybody tells me something’s off. Oh, Cleo, are you okay? Did something happen while you were gone? What happened? And I get angry. I get really angry because no I am not okay. If I had known going to the beach was gonna do this to me, rip my soul from my body and keep it, where it could lounge on the sand and swim in the ocean without me, I wouldn’t have fucking gone. The worst part is, I don’t know when I’m going back. I’m a goddamn college student. I can hardly afford dinner, much less a weekend where I’m supposed to be.
Alright, fine, I guess you want some real history. I’m being badgered by miss author here, and she’s asking me to please follow some kind of script. The name’s Cleo Rhea Everett, I’m twenty years old, and I’m a freshman at Barrie University. I attended Baum Academy before that and I’m majoring in childhood education. Yeah, I know. Me? As a teacher? None of my friends can picture it. My mom has faith in me. The parents of the kids I babysat have faith in me. So fuck the rest of the nonbelievers, okay? And really, who even cares if there are people who think you can't do it? As long as you think you can, you fucking can.
I’ve got snow white hair and glowing green eyes. Okay, but actually, no. That’s from Danny Phantom. I’m a ginger, I have a soul, and I... huh. I do have green eyes, they just don’t glow. That’s kind of a bummer. Yeah, man, I reference every day things from my childhood. What, you don’t? Don’t fucking try to tell me you don’t still pretend to morph into a power ranger when the time is right. You totally sing the Powerpuff Girls theme on your way to work, don’t you? Yeah, I can see right through your grown up disguise, buddy. That’s kind of a thing I do in real life situations, if you wanted to know. I quote old shows and movies, and I call people out on their shit. Don’t test me.
Cleo Smash is actually a thing. My friends are idiots. They think I’ve got this horrible temper and that I flip out on anybody and everything all the time. And okay, yes. I get angry pretty easily. But like, not hulk out angry. Y’know in the new Avengers movie, where Bruce is all ~I’m always angry~ and basically really badass? That’s me! I’m always angry and really badass. Sometimes any little thing will flip my switch and the claws are out. Meow. It wasn’t until that whole beach thing that it got bad, really. Like I said, my soul stayed behind. So yeah, I’m a ginger with a soul that abandoned her. What the fuck does that tell you about me?
My mom doesn’t get it when I tell her that. She’s really great and all, my mom. Her name is Josie. Isn’t that cute? She raised me all on her own. Her dad was around for a little while but then he had to go to the retirement home. I still visit him, but that place just makes me sad so… Uh. Right. Yeah, my mom is great. Never met dad. Saw pictures. I get my eyes from him. Guess he just kind of ditched halfway through the pregnancy? Fucking messed up, right? Might be where I got my commitment thing from. First time mom told me the story, something just sort of clicked in me. Kinda like the beach, I haven’t been the same since.
Yeah, I’ve got a fear of commitment, you have a fucking problem with it? I haven’t seen my mom have a successful relationship from the moment I understood what a relationship was. Made me think all guys were sleazy assholes with nothing better to do than leech off the most important woman in my life. If she was that to me, why couldn’t she be that to some hot doctor? The one relationship I had was great until he got into some pretty shitty things that I didn’t approve of, and so we broke it off. It was whatever, okay? I’m not torn up about it. It’s been, like, three years. Still a virgin, if you’re curious.
Waiting ‘til marriage. Fucking knew you’d have questions about this one. Yeah, look at this shiny promise ring. Man, what a prude I am. But if I’m being serious, people really don’t get this about me. New friends just don’t understand and if they badger me about it enough, I kick them to the curb. They don’t get how I can save myself until marriage if I can’t actually commit long enough to a relationship. And yeah, fine, that makes sense. Here’s what I have to say to it: FUCK YOU!
Okay. I suppose I’ve got to bring this up sooner or later. I’m the reincarnate of a goldfish. The little one in the Disney movie Pinocchio, who was real sassy, liked cake and giving kisses. She jumped out of that movie and into me and now I’m… well, I’m her host. It’s really not even noticeable. The only thing that changed really was my being able to breathe under water and communicate with fish. Going to the aquarium is extra fun because of it. I call her Goldilocks and she basically saved my life when I got caught in the waves out at Coney Island. I’ve learned since then not to swim during storms. It’s seriously nothing. Don’t worry about it.
If you want to win me over, you need to buy me sweets. Can’t believe I haven’t mentioned that yet. Some people have one sweet tooth. All of my teeth are sweet ones. Used to have braces and now that I suffered through that, I take my pastry and candy loving very seriously. I like baking, too. I’m not very good at it. But once you give me a finished product, I can fucking DECORATE like it is nobody’s business. Wish I could get a job at Gingey’s for decorating, but I’m too nervous to ask for an application. Uhh, what else? Also love the Harry Potter series, jewelry, rainy days, a hot cup of tea, window seats, and swimming.
Not that I get to do much of it. Pools just aren’t the same after swimming in the big blue. Not even going to Coney Island and swimming in the lake is worth it. Too cold most of the time. Might be one of the reasons I’m so bitter. When somebody comes back from vacation and talks about the beaches and the sunshine, I get unbelievably jealous. Have to leave before I flip some fuckin’ tables. If you plan a beach trip without me and I hear about it, consider our friendship terminated. End of story. Don’t even ask what you did. We are D-O-N-E DONE. Someday I’ll get back to the beach, on whatever coast I don’t care, and I’ll stay. For the rest of my life.
Time to wrap it up. That’s enough. I didn’t even agree to this in the first place, I just figured if somebody was going to tell my story, it was going to be me. Pretty sure I covered everything that was on this list here. Not sure why I even followed it. Guess I’m just super nice or something. If you really need me, like it’s a life or death situation, you can find me at Barrie or the mall or staying at my mom’s. Never take advantage of a place where you can do your laundry for free, okay? One last little gem of advice: it’s your life, do with it what you want, and fuck the haters.
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