Jul 29, 2019
“is that all ye got?! my gran’s got better aim than yer’s and she’s six feet in the dirt, ye weakling!” mo leaned forwards on the seat inside the dunk tank, fingers curling around the chain link fence and wild curls - natural red poorly bleached to blonde - flying behind her, “i want you to put me in the fookin’ ground, ye peedy bastard!” the boy - looking about as old as a high school junior - threw his last ball, shakily - missing by a large margin; much to the exasperation of mo. she made a loud ‘ER!’ sound - rattling the fence before sitting back, “get outta here, christ almighty - next!”