The Girl on the Floor
I have a little girl called Morgan. Well she’s not actually little. She’s sixteen now and has been trying to find a really cool boyfriend. When she was nine she said she’d never get a boyfriend but she’d make loads of money as a fashion model and then she’d buy a whopping mansion and she’d bring me and my wife there to live. But it’s different now. All her friends at Chairline House School have got boyfriends that wear fabulous black sneakers. That’s what Morgan wanted. Well, she did meet up with this really tall boy called Jack Sticking and when he asked Morgan’s name she said “Morgan Girling”. He broke up with her just after she said that. He then fell in love with a really irritating girl called Jane Payne. Morgan’s friends’ boyfriends are Jack’s brothers and they won’t break up with them ‘cause they’re called Eliza, Stacey and Kristy. The annoying thing was that Morgan changed her name to Harriet McCoy and she still didn’t get a boyfriend.
This is where my story starts.
You see, Morgan found a new fan club on the web. You could talk to members and make friends and all that other normal fan club stuff. Yesterday she got her membership as “Harriet McCoy” and then she met this boy who’s membership name was Chris Yimble. As soon as he saw her in her best purple dress he fell for her.
Morgan’s going to tell the rest of the story now for I’m going to have my breakfast.
I’m Harriet. I know my father keeps calling me “Morgan” so when he tells you to call me “Morgan” just tell him to shut up. Oh, sorry if you can here a muffled voice, it’s my internet friend. Let me just talk to him.
“Harriet, meet me at Pizza Express today,” said Chris.
“But it’s snowing and my dad’s going to a Car Boot Sale and my mum’s going to her friend Hilary Murray’s house. No one can drive me!” I said, in panic.
“I will, I’m seventeen, I’ve got a driving licence,” he said.
“All sorted then. We’ll go at 12?” I said.
“Yep,” said Chris.
Isn’t this great? I’ve got a new boyfriend and I’m going to Pizza Express with him, you can come too, if you like.
My Dad now continues the story but this time he’s agreed to call me Harriet.
“When will Chris be here?” asked Harriet, bouncing on the snow. Suddenly, she saw a silver car with pink bubble pictures on the side.
“It’s Chris!” shouted Harriet.
Chris got out of the car, his fists clenched.
“What’s up Chris? Has Catherine, your little sister got on your nerves?” asked Harriet.
Chris didn’t answer; he pushed a shocked Harriet onto the floor.
“Hey, whatcha doing? Look you’ve just made a hole in my new gloves. Oh dear, I’ve got a bloody cut on my hand. Ow, ow, ow, it really stings. Chris whatcha doing?” asked Harriet.
He kicked her on the head. “I lied. You’re my enemy,” he said. Harriet closed her eyes, blood smearing her newly applied blue eye shadow. Suddenly, I, Harriet’s dad came strolling through the drive. “What on earth?” I said. I phoned the ambulance. The ambulance took Harriet and when they came back to the drive they said “Don’t worry, Nurse Curtis is helping her mend herself,” said the ambulance driver.
The moral of the story? Don’t meet up with people you meet on the Internet.
