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Amelia F. Jones was a tall, nineteen-year-old woman with blue eyes and grain-colored hair, a fickle piece of hair, which she had nicknamed Nantucket, sticking up at the front of her head. She had a hero complex, loved horror movies (though they scared her much more than any normal person), believed in aliens, thought magic was a load of crap, ate like a full-grown horse without gaining a pound, and loved burgers, but enough about her, when she has a story to tell.
She unlocked the front door, stepping into the familiar house curiously, letting the door close behind her.
She had received a text from her long-time boyfriend saying, 'Get home quickly! I found something in the attic that I want to try on you!'
Needless to say she ran home as fast as she possibly could (barreling through a crowd of Girl Scouts on her way. It wouldn't have been so bad if she hadn't been screaming "I'm gonna get laid!" Over and over again at the top of her lungs, along with some things that would definitely need to be explained to the girls.), praying that it was something kinky, though she doubted it, considering how much of a proper British gentleman her boyfriend was. She loved that about him but he could be rather...ugh. (He had yet to get the hint from the lube she constantly showed him and the YouTube videos.)
Her doubts were confirmed when she looked upon the house, looking into the kitchen where several pots and pans resided in the sink, waiting for her to wash them (She did the cooking because the fire department forbade him from doing it), peeking into his study, where several piles of paper laid on his desk, stacked perfectly, finally coming upon the living room and seeing only a pile of his clothes in a heap in the middle of the floor. She was completely, utterly alone.
She stomped angrily over to the clothing, snatching them up roughly and glaring at them like it was personally their fault she wasn't being stretched (and screaming so loudly that the neighbors thought she was being murdered) right now, "Aren't I supposed to be the messy one?" She huffed, throwing them into the laundry basket with more force than necessary, storming off to the bedroom and slamming the door before she laid down, crossing her arms and closing her eyes, fighting off the inevitable tears that soon trickled down her cheeks with a faint 'Plop! Plop!' sound that only pronounced her anger and sadness. Didn't he know what a rotten prank that was? Sure, she wanted him naked but she'd prefer if he was with her. And besides that, she was the one with a sense of humor!
She was determined to give him a piece of her mind though, what she was unaware of, was that hearing her yell for hours and sleeping on the couch for the rest of his natural born life were probably the least of the unfortunate man's worries.
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