Pairings: OriginalCharacters Julian/Emon

Categories: Contemporary

Implements Used: none yet

Type: Slash

Warnings: allusion to spanking at the end

Notes:

I don't usually write DP stories but I figured I’d give it a try at least once. If I ‘m not good then I can say. “at least I tried.”)

It’s short about 700 words or so.

 

 

 

The Virtues of Corners

By Roo

 

 

 

 

A corner.

The corner.

Thee corner.

 

It’s a noun, verb and adjective all rolled into one convenient bundle.

 

It’s described by American Heritage Dictionary in several ways; The position at which two lines, surfaces, or edges meet and form an angle. To turn. Any part, region or remote place.

 

But I think the most fitting definition is the one that Webster came up with; A threatening or embarrassing position from which escape is difficult.

 

Correction. Escape is impossible! I can feel him in the room with me.

 

I know that the smug jerk is probably sprawled on the sofa, reading over his glasses just the way his optometrist and his mother always tell him not to. I hear the annoying tick of the kitchen timer set for however long I’m supposed to stand here and ‘think’.

 

If I move from this damn corner the timer is reset.

If I talk the timer is reset.

If I kick the wall the timer is reset.

If I breathe the goddamn timer is reset!                                                                                     

 

And that ticking is driving me nuts! Its as annoying as these damn walls are. Whose idea was it to paint the accent walls in the sitting room this hideous pale sage? It looks like baby crap, as far as I’m concerned. I mean, it’s so dull and gloomy and stupid. Very stupid, just as stupid as this whole corner business is.

 

Like really, who thought of this tremendous waste of time? Who really tells a grown man to stand in the corner? Who? I’ll tell you who! No one but Julian Ramos!

 

I bet the man’s never stared at a corner himself—He’s a shameless momma’s boy and spoilt to boot! So where does he get off sending me to corners and saying things like: “Oh so you drove six blocks with a car that’s registration was expired? Go stand in the corner, I’ll call you when I’m ready for you.”

 

The jerk! It’s not my fault that the registration didn’t get renewed. I mean, yeah, we spoke about it once or five times. And each time it was while I was showering, eating, playing a video game or doing something remotely more interesting than scheduling time for the DMV. Honestly, come on! Who wants to take about paying a fifty-six dollar fee when there are other things to be done?

 

He shouldn’t take it so hard. It wasn’t his car, and I mean it was only six blocks. I just went to Shop Rite and back for some groceries, easy-peasy-lemon-squeezey. But noooooooo the goddamned Cop --who hates me-- and lives down the block, had to look at my windshield. That ass ended up saddling me with a $250 ticket

 

…and corner time.

This god-forsaken corner makes me want to rip my hair out!

 

When we move I’m finding a round house. A house with no sage green corners or designated time out spots, because they suck. Just like the unending ticking of that darn timer. I swear, one day I will break in a fall or some other cleverly disguised method.

 

However, until then I’m still here staring the walls finding shapes in the plaster. I haven’t found any new ones in the last eight months. Though I’m pleased to tell you that the bear, pointing finger, the slice of pie, the sneaker and the little old men are all still present and accounted for.

 

I look at that finger and can’t help but feel a twinge.

 

Maybe it is my fault, a little. I mean I cooould have renewed the registration online… or via post. But I mean I was in the middle dodging plasma grenades in halo.

 

Halo!

 

 ---Sympathy? Anyone? No?

Okay, well then, screw you.

 

My feet itch and it’s too quiet. Where’s that dog when you need it? Usually Tybalt dragging some toy up to Julian and being all cute and playful and distracting but where is the little beast now? Probably shitting in my sock draw ….again.

 

Damn dog.

Damn green.

Damn corner.

Damn ticking.

Damn ringing bell.

 

“Emon, come here please. I believe we’ve got some thing to discuss.” When I turn around there’s Julian looking …not that pleasant. And you know—Suddenly, the corner doesn’t seem that bad.

 

End