Stuff it, Terr
Summer 2021, Week 4, Friday early evening
Phone Call
Sorin Fionn
He admires the handiwork of the tailor, a fine suit that was made of durable tear and cut-resistant fabric. Fabulous job, she did. Even the mask fits my face well. His phone rang and the screen showed the name "Terry". "Heyya, Terr. What's up?"Storyteller
"Hey, Sorin. I, uh.. was calling to ask if we really needed to make this a pro-evo thing.. I mean, they-Sorin Fionn
"Lemme stop ya right there, Terr. Please tell me yer not gettin' cold feet because we're invitin' a particular crowd o' people."Storyteller
"I-I mean, I'll be fine either way, I just-"Sorin Fionn
"Just. What. Terr."Storyteller
"I just.. don't see why we need to make it a pro-evo event. I mean, those freaks woul-"Sorin Fionn
"STOP. Right. There. Terry.. really? Freaks? Is that what you think of them? Of people you or I coulda grown up with? Of people that are scared b'cause th' Blackcloaks and boogeymen are after 'em? Y'know, th' Mayor made this place a sanctuary because of all their hardships outside, all the prejudice that faces 'em."Storyteller
"I know, but-"Sorin Fionn
His tone became even angrier than before. "Stuff it, Terr. Jus' really shove it up there. In fact, shove it so far it goes out yer mouth and ya can see it fer the shit it is! Go fuck yerself!" He hung up the call abruptly after the last outburst. He breathes heavily, trying his best to settle his nerves. The gall of that man! To call people like me, like Luke, Lavrentia and Lavrentis, and Father Marsh, freaks! His anger rising to a pitch, he picks up one of the metal cards laid out on his bed and chucks it towards the wall, embedding the metal Jack of Diamonds an inch into it.
Type
Record, Historical
Medium
Digital Recording, Text
Authoring Date
Friday evening, July 16, 2021
Authors
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