Go-Jo still no go?
Kiki just turned 18, had pink dyed hair and was a little over five feet tall. It had snowed the night before, and she was still at that age where she found being out in the snow fun. She scoffed down her rice and salmon, then threw some clothes on before heading outside.
"Oh, it's so cold out," she whined, "but I'll get used to it."
"I'm sure you will," a voice from out in the street responded.
"Who said that?" Kiki frowned as she looked around, she finally saw some creepy guy looking at her. Normally she'd have no problem with people looking at her in passing or the like, but it was like the guy was more aggressively looking at her with some greater intent. "Just who are you?"
"I'm, sorry," the man stepped forward, he was tall and, in his twenties, with short black hair, "just call me Go-Jo."
"Well," Kiki smiled at the ironic name, "just Go-Jo."
"Yes, and the unfortunate side effect of my name is--."
"Go-Jo NOW!!" She couldn't make it any clearer what was meant; but, just to make it clearer, she added one more word. "Leave!"
"OK," Go-Jo grunted, "fine."
"Go-Jo, bye!"
Do you mind if I come back when you're in a better mood?"
"No! Go-Jo that way."
"Please--." Go-Jo turned to see a snowball about the size of a soccer ball coming at him, it hit him hard and broke his nose.
"Go-Jo still no go?"
"No, no. Go-Jo go."
About the Creator
Timothy E Jones
What is there to say: I live in Philadelphia, but wish I lived somewhere else, anywhere else. I write as a means to escape the harsh realities of the city and share my stories here on Vocal, even if I don't get anything for my efforts.
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