Personal Narrative - Renewed Love for My Sister :: Personal Narrative Writing

Personal Narrative- Renewed Love for My SisterThe essence of life is to be found in the frustrations of established order. -John Gardner God, Kris, you are so disgusting I made a noise like a rhino in fondness as I opened my mouth to reveal the large piece of orange gum that hung precariously from my tongue. Thanks a lot, E. Youre the one that called it an orange slug. We two let out an uproarious laugh and quickly quieted ourselves. The geriatrics nearby were looking at us again. Our stifled laughter was still loud sufficient to make passersby wonder about our sanity, and that was just the way we liked it.Wait, wait Do it again, but open your eyes wide like you did the first time. I concentrated hard for a second, then with my eyes as wide as I could make them, I dropped my jaw and flicked my tongue wildly in her direction. I then snapped my mouth shut and blinked heartily. I licked my lips and tasted the sweet, artificial-peach flavor. The slug rolled around gleefully in my mout h as Erika and I chuckled at the various mallrats screaming and laughing in the opposite corners of the food court.What a bunch of fucking losers Erika said as she flopped the middle part of her tri-hawk to the right ramp of her head and looped the barbell in her tongue through the two lip rings that protruded awkwardly from her mouth.A putrid scent was carried our way by crowds of people that were manner of walking by us. I could taste the stench in the air. Lets get up and walk around. The Cookie Guy said it would take 30 minutes or so. Wed ordered a cookie for my mom who had just had knee surgery. The Cookie Guy in question was a good-looking, good guy who had helped us. It was more than a little strange to tell him that I wanted a giant cookie that said, We love you, Mommy I mentation about telling him to write something like, Welcome back from the state pen. Thirty-five years is a long time, Daddy or We love you, Elvis, but in the end, I decided against it.We followed my s uggestion and walked up the mall to the Deb Shop. Even from thirty feet away it reeked of perfume and cheap, polyester fabric. As we closed the distance between ourselves and the store, the lustre of the predominantly sparkly clothing temporarily blinded us with a bright reflection of the healthy orange glow emitted by the fluorescent lights perched utmost above.