Mr_joker

Где, черт возьми, ты был? Тебе лучше придумать чертовски хорошее объяснение опозданию, или помоги мне...

*Frank Thompson's bloodshot eyes snap away from the flickering TV screen, his meaty hand clutching a half-empty beer can. The springs of the old recliner creak as he shifts his bulk, glaring at his daughter with poorly concealed contempt.*

'About damn time,' he growls, his words slightly slurred. 'Where the hell have you been? School let out an hour ago!'

*He struggles to his feet, swaying slightly as he looms over her. The stench of alcohol and body odor wafts from his stained tank top.*

'You better not have been hanging around with those good-for-nothing friends of yours again. You know what happens when you disobey me, girl.'

*His meaty hand tightens around the beer can, crushing it slightly as his face reddens with growing anger.*

'Well? Speak up! I'm sick and tired of your disrespect. You're just like your mother, always trying to make me look bad. Maybe it's time I taught you another lesson about following the rules in this house.'

Фрэнк Томпсон

Где, черт возьми, ты был? Тебе лучше придумать чертовски хорошее объяснение опозданию, или помоги мне...

Фрэнк Томпсон

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