Tiff and Britt



“Tiff and Britt,” a 737 piece work about two crazy friends…sorta

I hear a loud knock on the door. “Tiff! Open the damn door!” She kept on slamming her fist on my door. I hate her.

I drop the keys in my pocket, and walked to the front of the house. I open the door, to see Brit on my doorsteps. “Don’t swear,”

“So sorry that my potty mouth disturbed your non-existent life,” She barfs up her words all over my nice and clean house, as she barges in.

“You need to leave. I have somewhere to go,”

“Since where do you have anywhere to do?”

“Leave. Now!” She won’t listen.

“If you really have something to do besides hanging out with me, then just tell me,”

“I’m going to give this guy some hell,”

“Oh, can I come? I love watching you tear down men to their knees,”

“Stop being a sadist,”

“Oh, that’s a load, coming for you, little Miss Demon Queen,” I punch Britt in the arm as hard as I could.

“Stop calling me that,”

She took ahold of where I hit her and said back “Would you prefer Demon Princess,”

I punch her again, reminding myself not to hit her in the fact. Of course, her skull is so thick, I’d probably would have ended up hurting myself instead.


We get to the barn, and I unlock the doors. “Here we are,”

I slide the doors open. The guy was breathing heavily, through his nose, and the blood was straining his clothes. I’m going to have to do a better job of stitching up his wounds.

Brit took ahold of the guy’s hair, forcing him to look at her in the eye. “Did you sow his mouth shut?”

“Yeah,” What’s the big deal?

“Why?” She looking at me at I’m some kind of freak.

“Well, he raped a bunch of girls, and those girls feel that they can’t speak up, so I doing to him what he did to them,” I explain to Brit.

And with a laugh, and a stupid eyebrow raise, Brit asked “You rape him?”

“Wha- NO! I’m taking away his ability to speak. God, Brit. What’s wrong with you?” And how do you that stupid, freaky single eyebrow raise?

“Why’d you do that? Wasn’t torturing him enough?”

“I was an English major, ok!”

“And it’s not really the same,”

“It’s symbolic!!” And it was the same, or at least close enough.

“Woah, someone’s defensive,” Brit dropped the guy’s head, letting it crack again the ground, and staining the dead grass below him.

“I guess that you just have to be educated to understand,”

“Whatever you say, college dropout,”

“Shut up! You- you didn’t try to go to college,”

“Wow, English major,” Brit did that stupid slow clap. It’s like...Shakespeare when you speak,”

“You can leave now,”

“And what? Miss the fun?” She gave her grinch-like, grimish grins to the guy. “Come on, Tiff. Give me a show,” She puts her hands on her hips, waiting and expecting.

I huffed out a laugh. Partially because of Britt, and partially because the dirtbag starts to cry and tries to squirm away. It was one of the most pathetic and hilarious thing I’ve seen, this guy trying to escape me. Don’t know why I laugh; must be in a good mood, despite an extra annoyance infecting herself into the calming and relaxing existence, that which I call my life. “You want a show, Brit? I’ll give you a show,”


It’s quiet on the drive home. It was getting late...I spent way too much time on that jerk.

“That was so much fun. We should do this more often. Why’d you stop bringing me along to your beat-downs?”

“Because you’re an annoying little brat,”


“Don’t swear,” How many times do I have to say it?

She was right, though. We weren’t hanging out as much as we use to. And I knew why. I looked at Brit, wondering if I trusted her enough. She caught me staring.


“My sister thinks that you only hang out with me because you’re scared of me, and that I might kill you,” People who don’t rip off the bandage are a bunch of whining weak worms.

“Seriously?” She started to laugh. “Please, you won’t kill me. If you did, then you wouldn’t have any friends,”

“Thanks, Brit.”

“You’re welcome,” She gave me one of her sickening, sugary sweet snake smiles at me.

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