L o v e x Severus ; ; New Member
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AUTUMN! at the disco
Joined: Oct 2007 Gender: Female  Posts: 2 Location: Potions <3 Karma: 0 |  | . my concrete } } w a s t e l a n d; ; « Thread Started on Oct 9, 2007, 9:47pm » | |
xxthey won’t accept me xxstory of my life, misunderstood xxor maybe I’m just a gangsta
Born in the hood, tested on like a mere white rat. Well, most stories start out that why perhaps. Things don’t work out, so you wing it. Growing up on the streets never fails to spit out criminals and trash, that’s what she was.. trash. Violence and gambling, stealing and beating, the ghetto could be rough at times. Rap songs and graffiti cribs, luxuries of the street girl. She could take it, she was raised there.
The pavement cracked under her ripped pads, pushing her along on the road of nowhere. Her muscles cringed, and her ears flicked with sounds of her childhood, sirens and screams.. they warmed her heart. Graffiti walls covered her kingdom, and trash was her menu. Once a street girl, always a street girl. Not that she wanted a home; whenever a two-legger saw her they made a face as if she were something gross on the seat of a public toilet. Who needed the scum, not her. Her coat glistened with the sheen of street life, and the odor of a thousand naps in the disposed treasure of the humans. Who was she to care? She had it good. A true euphoria clung to her heart as it beat rapidly beneath her bosom, and her joints cracked with every stride of her muscular limbs on the sidewalk. Eyes of acidic white shifted sensually to every crevice that lined the face of the ground, and her ears flinched in delight at the cars slamming on their breaks and their owners swearing at the top of their lungs. Her tendons relaxed, and brought her to a hard canter as she proceeded upon the street, guffawing at the idiotic humans that threw her harsh glances as she strutted her stuff up Main Street. Mandy was one to shout, one to cut you down for existing on sight of you. Who could blame her? She was an emo queen with a gangsta ring, and the you-better-not-mess-wit-me girl you wouldn’t want to owe money. She had been abandoned ad beaten, starved and tested on, feared and exiled, but never was she an underdog. The typical Great Dane, with untypical markings of beauty and pizzazz. Songs of man-made rap strung together in her head, and the after-taste of stolen pizza and chilidogs salivated on her wrinkled tongue. The golden prisms of the summer sun glistened in her tired opticles, causing her to send small growls pouring from he vocals. She hated summer, in fact.. she hated everything. Not that she was the spawn of Satan or anything; she loved a good joke just like the next pathetic canid. Things seemed to always work out her way, and she always played her cards right. Maybe the taste of victory and pure and utter luck had gotten to her head. She had had her fair share of beating in the past, some too gruesome to detail without causing the listener to become unconscious. Her freckled pelt shifted uneasily as she entered an alley with a smirk. What, no strays in this town? The very idea of a one-dog town was far too tasty to fathom, so she dismissed it in order to not keep her hopes up. The scent of dank and bitter pollution wrinkled her nares; it was like being sprayed in the face with an old lady’s heavy perfume. She cherished it. Her salmon tongue protruded from her lips, cleansing her whiskers then withdrawing to caress her ivory canines. This town was fresh meat. It wasn’t exactly the “New York” she was used to, but it wasn’t suburbia hell. The subtle yells of teenagers beating around basketballs in tarnished parks made her grunt in irritation, and her shoulders to tense. Oh how she would love to chase those whelps, make them scream like the pigs they were. But no, that would be bad! Those stupid buffoons at animal control wouldn’t let her rest until they had her in a pet cemetery. She rolled her eyes as her mind brought up those stooges she hated; they had ruined her life before she was even old enough to be weaned. Dumpsters and ragged old boxes came into her eyesight as she continued absent-mindedly on the rough path. She would give anything to be back in her hometown, to be top dog of the hood and be respected by all those waste of dog skins. Who were they to run her out? She hadn’t done anything wrong. She might have treated them like personal chew toys and gambled harder than any dog alive, but other than that nothing wrong. Her spine tingled with numbness, and her toes throbbed with the ache of trekking for miles on end. Without anything further to do besides go jump in the lake, she finally decided to come to a halt near a soggy old cardboard box. Her lips parted with a smack, and her tongue lolled in exhaustion. She let her haunches fall to the concrete, her flanks twitching. Not exactly the red carpet treatment, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
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![[image]](http://i237.photobucket.com/albums/ff280/autumnxrebel/HP/Sevvy.gif) Love Potion No. 9 .x |
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