Читать книгу ‘…startled by his furry shorts!’ - Louise Rennison - Страница 61

Bang bang, crash. Why can no one in my family open a door normally? Crashing around when starving people with two chins are trying to sleep.

Mum came upstairs into my room. I don’t know why she bothers having her own room.

She sat on the bed and looked at me. What am I? A looking at person?

She said, “Could you tell me why you’ve got a corn plaster on your chin?”

I said, “Oh, leave me alone, will you?”

“Georgia, what is the matter with you? Seriously, you seem all worried and upset – what is it?”

And then, I don’t know what happened, but I told her. “I said to the Italian Stallion that I wanted him to be like my proper boyfriend, and he said, ‘Oh, this is a serious thing’, you know, in that really groovy accent-type thing, and then Dave the Laugh said, ‘What if you really liked someone and then you lost them’, and Jas said, ‘Wet Lindsay has got nice feet and he might like that’… maybe they do, the Italians, they are an ancient race and maybe they like feet… and then a lurking lurker situation occurred, so I got out the corn plaster… and he’s going to choose on Friday, that’s five days away… and the coup de whatsit is that the Original Sex God, whose name I will never mention this side of the grave, had his shorts on, in a river, probably showing off to his wombat friends… Oh, what is the point?”

Actually, for a complete fool and someone who tosses her nunga-nungas around with gay abandon, Mum was quite nice. And she seemed to understand.

Which I am surprised at, as I don’t know what I’m saying myself most of the time.

And I’m in my head. Sadly.