You continue to walk down the street and around the corner.
Out of nowhere, you hear the roar of fifty engines. A biker gang appears and scares the heck out of you. They tell you to keep away from their side of the street. They taunt you and tell you that you need to go and make some art. They start to toss empty rolls of washi tape in your direction.
You run. You run home to cry and feel sorry for yourself. You don't ever want to go out again. You wished you would have gone to The Loft.
Too bad.
The End.
Click here to go back to One Story Down!
No comments:
Post a Comment