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Although handsome, with a handlebar mustache and brown eyes clouded with rebellion, John was conceited. With his nose in the hair, he looked down at the little people. What I speak of is, the circus he owned, which was occupied with midgets. It was a dream of his since he was a small boy and Lynette, being young with her head in the clouds, went with him and left everything behind.
After selling her grandfather's watch to help her lover's dream become a reality, John quickly discovered no one wanted to come and see midgets walk a tight rope or breathe fire. His idea was left for the birds, so to speak. Night after night, the tent was empty and funds were dwindling quickly. His anger escalated, blaming everyone else but the true culprit, himself. Lynette had never seen this side of him before and began to think she had made a grave mistake.
After selling her grandfather's watch to help her lover's dream become a reality, John quickly discovered no one wanted to come and see midgets walk a tight rope or breathe fire. His idea was left for the birds, so to speak. Night after night, the tent was empty and funds were dwindling quickly. His anger escalated, blaming everyone else but the true culprit, himself. Lynette had never seen this side of him before and began to think she had made a grave mistake.
NOPE! 
George was ferociously walking to the store because he ran out of milk. The cereal he ate was stale, and the milk was slightly sour. He had neglected to go shopping for some fresh supplies because he was too busy being the gigantic ball of mean toward the neighbor's cat.
Every so often he'd wait outside in a large refrigerator box hoping the cat would walk by. And thus he'd jump out of the box and yell "GET OUTTA MY BACK YARD, CAT!!!" For two weeks this has been his daily ritual. But today, for some reason he couldn't find solace in his activity. The hole in his chest grew and his frustrations flared. He's thought a bowl of cereal would cheer him up. But the Frosted Flakes was stale, and lacked crisp, and crunch. The milk was slightly thick as he poured it onto his stale flakes. It only took one spoonful before he threw the bowl to wall. Little did he know the cat watched him from his back yard window, snickering at his enemy's misfortune.
He had tried calling Lynette earlier but her cell phone went to voice mail. No one understood his hate for such a thing. He needed a ride to the store. And She being such an annoying ball of light seemed capable to tolerate his cruddy attitude and behavior. She must be busy fawning over that mustached cretin he thought to himself.
As he got to the shop, he bought his supplies to restock his cooler and fridge.
Every so often he'd wait outside in a large refrigerator box hoping the cat would walk by. And thus he'd jump out of the box and yell "GET OUTTA MY BACK YARD, CAT!!!" For two weeks this has been his daily ritual. But today, for some reason he couldn't find solace in his activity. The hole in his chest grew and his frustrations flared. He's thought a bowl of cereal would cheer him up. But the Frosted Flakes was stale, and lacked crisp, and crunch. The milk was slightly thick as he poured it onto his stale flakes. It only took one spoonful before he threw the bowl to wall. Little did he know the cat watched him from his back yard window, snickering at his enemy's misfortune.
He had tried calling Lynette earlier but her cell phone went to voice mail. No one understood his hate for such a thing. He needed a ride to the store. And She being such an annoying ball of light seemed capable to tolerate his cruddy attitude and behavior. She must be busy fawning over that mustached cretin he thought to himself.
As he got to the shop, he bought his supplies to restock his cooler and fridge.
George hastily passed each isle, in search of the shortest line. He couldn't seem to focus as unwanted thoughts flooded his mind. What does she see in him? He's nothing but a con.
He had heard rumors about John when he had moved into town, and none of them were good. Still, George didn't care. He expected the worst in people, but when Lynette began to show an interest, he had to do something. He tried to warn her, but she wouldn't listen. Even as he recalled their conversation, he remembered the glazed look in her eyes as she gushed about him. She wanted to see the best in people and George couldn't understand why. It was situations like this that made him thankful he wasn't like her. Lynette's optimistic outlook it had blinded her from the truth and he could hardly stand it. The thought of that sleazeball with his arm around her cause him to grimace.
I'd love to have just five minutes alone with that schmuck. He would never talk to her again.
The scene began to unfold in his head which caused him to smirk as he stepped behind an elderly woman and rested his arms on the buggy. What little joy he had faded when he glanced at the people in front of him. One thing he loathed more than shopping, was waiting in the lines. '
He let out a ragged breath until he caught the familiar scent of Jasmine. It was sweet, just like the person it reminded him of. He couldn't help but close his eyes and inhale deeply.
"Lynette," The words escaped his lips before he was aware of it. His eyes shot open, only to see the short older woman ahead of him glaring with a scowl.
"What did you call me?"
Her combative tone caused his skin to grow hot. The last thing he needed was this. George stammered. "Oh, I didn't say anything. I was just-"
The expression on the woman's face caused him to stumble over his words. "J-Just a rough day. Ya know what I mean?"
He attempted to alleviate the situation with a chuckle but her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Somethin' ain't right about you boy."
She wagged her finger at him and pulled her cart out of the line, "Just ain't right."
He watched as she went to the next line over. All he could see was her permed hair over the aisle, "Crazy old bag." He mumbled.
Rolling the buggy forward in the line to close the space, his eyes moved to the man in front of him. He was dressed quite well, which is what caught George's attention. Glancing down at the tattered green robe he had thrown before leaving his house and back at the man, he grumbled. "Show off. Who wears that to a grocery store?"
The stranger's attire reminded him too much of John, and that he couldn't stand. Although he was next to be rung up, George thought about leaving all together until he saw Lynette. Her long brown hair flowed past her shoulders as she walked toward George. A smile tugged at his lips as she approached, but didn't notice him.
She stopped next to the man waiting to pay in front of him. It was the man he couldn't stand, the man who reminded him so much of that rotten crook, John. George simply watched in shock as Lynette grabbed his hand ever so tenderly and his blood began to boil.
It was John. George gripped the handle of the buggy, unable to control his temper any longer.
He had heard rumors about John when he had moved into town, and none of them were good. Still, George didn't care. He expected the worst in people, but when Lynette began to show an interest, he had to do something. He tried to warn her, but she wouldn't listen. Even as he recalled their conversation, he remembered the glazed look in her eyes as she gushed about him. She wanted to see the best in people and George couldn't understand why. It was situations like this that made him thankful he wasn't like her. Lynette's optimistic outlook it had blinded her from the truth and he could hardly stand it. The thought of that sleazeball with his arm around her cause him to grimace.
I'd love to have just five minutes alone with that schmuck. He would never talk to her again.
The scene began to unfold in his head which caused him to smirk as he stepped behind an elderly woman and rested his arms on the buggy. What little joy he had faded when he glanced at the people in front of him. One thing he loathed more than shopping, was waiting in the lines. '
He let out a ragged breath until he caught the familiar scent of Jasmine. It was sweet, just like the person it reminded him of. He couldn't help but close his eyes and inhale deeply.
"Lynette," The words escaped his lips before he was aware of it. His eyes shot open, only to see the short older woman ahead of him glaring with a scowl.
"What did you call me?"
Her combative tone caused his skin to grow hot. The last thing he needed was this. George stammered. "Oh, I didn't say anything. I was just-"
The expression on the woman's face caused him to stumble over his words. "J-Just a rough day. Ya know what I mean?"
He attempted to alleviate the situation with a chuckle but her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Somethin' ain't right about you boy."
She wagged her finger at him and pulled her cart out of the line, "Just ain't right."
He watched as she went to the next line over. All he could see was her permed hair over the aisle, "Crazy old bag." He mumbled.
Rolling the buggy forward in the line to close the space, his eyes moved to the man in front of him. He was dressed quite well, which is what caught George's attention. Glancing down at the tattered green robe he had thrown before leaving his house and back at the man, he grumbled. "Show off. Who wears that to a grocery store?"
The stranger's attire reminded him too much of John, and that he couldn't stand. Although he was next to be rung up, George thought about leaving all together until he saw Lynette. Her long brown hair flowed past her shoulders as she walked toward George. A smile tugged at his lips as she approached, but didn't notice him.
She stopped next to the man waiting to pay in front of him. It was the man he couldn't stand, the man who reminded him so much of that rotten crook, John. George simply watched in shock as Lynette grabbed his hand ever so tenderly and his blood began to boil.
It was John. George gripped the handle of the buggy, unable to control his temper any longer.