The Kat came back | By : Sprocket Category: 1 through F > Boondock Saints Views: 1237 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own The Boondock Saints nor do I profit from any of this writing. Troy Duffy is rightful owner and I bless him. Kat is all mine, however ^ . ^ |
I haven't written in years. I currently have no beta and am more than happy to accept one. ALL reviews are welcome. Let me know if you like this or not! I am going to have a lot to add to this! I am a HUGE Saints fan. :D The sun was just starting to show through the dirty window, color jetting across the room thanks to droplets of water from the early morning rain that hadn't quiet yet dried. Clothing littered the floor along with various beer cans, take-out containers and over-filled ashtrays. The air was filled with the stench of said items, only making the single room loft apartment look more like a dump than any actual living quarters. The parallel twin beds resting just at each side of the window were empty. Old, worn blankets lazily thrown over the sunken mattresses. On the floor, at the foot of the beds, lay a small pallet. The blankets were not as old as the ones scattered above. They were actually bright, vibrant, showing large pictures of cartoon characters. A slender hand poked through the mess of blankets, nails painted blue, paint slightly chipped. There was no sign of life in the small apartment, except for the faint breathing of a woman who was well on her way to sleeping past noon. All seemed well in the void. That was until life sprang forth and the blankets were being thrown about as though god himself touched them with the charmed hand. “What fucking time is it?!” Kat shrieked, panic settling into her mind. She tripped over the blankets, naked foot caught in a mixture of daffy duck and bugs bunny. “Please god..Not again! I can't be late again!” Her balance was carefully caught, hand tightly grasping the rail at the foot of a dirty bed. Reality was starting to make itself known, the severity of the situation coming down like acid rain, biting at her not so tough exterior. Pierced ears caught the ticking of a wall clock while blue eyes carefully scanned until it was found. “Shit!” 8:24. There was no doubt in Kat's mind that she was late. No doubt in hell that her chaotic job was quickly making its way down the proverbial drain. “Murphy!” You promised..You swore that you would wake me up this morning. How the Macmanus brothers always rose with the sun, she did not know. They were always up and smoking by 6:45. Always chatting about how the day was going to go on or how they had shared an interesting dream. 'You should jus' git yerself a reliable alarm' Connor had warned time and time again 'Why are ye dependin' on ol murph anyway? Ya know that he'll leave ya sleepin' jus' ta spite ye.' Kat tried to shake Connor's warnings from mind, raking her fingers through her short brown hair, eyes darting about for something that could pass as a hair band. Murphy had always been trying her nerves. Since day one. There was always something smart assed sliding from his tongue. God forbid the girl wear something slightly form fitting. 'Girl, ye know your just not ment for that, Right?' He would retort or even do something as simple as roll his eyes. The man was an asshole. Not to everyone else, just her. It was true, Kat wasn't a size five, nor was she the smartest in the bunch. Hell, she wasn't even from around the area. Kat was born and raised in the south. How she ended up in the Irish part of Boston, wanting to kill Murphy and grateful that Connor was a good friend, was something that she just couldn't seem to understand.
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