The Boys Next Door
Dear Letters,
My name is Deb, I’m nineteen years old, and I live in L.A. My parents own this stimulating house right on the beach. They said I could stay there the summer of my Junior year in college so long as my gpa didn’t fall. I was a a plus student, my grades went up, and my summer vacation was planned.
When I arrived I noticed the water leaked, badly damaged living room wall. I told my Dad and he paid for the paint but said I would have to paint it. I came back from the hardware store and started to chat with Jimmy and Mark, the two fine dudes living next door. They agreed to support me if I bought the beer. We had a few beers and after three hours of procrastinating we finally got to work.
After about ten minutes the observers wanted to take a break. I was a little pissed, and a little buzzed, and honestly I didn’t feel like painting either. Suddenly Jimmy grabbed my shirt and literally ripped it off. What a way to break in my new summer pad!
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Signed,
Deb in L.A.
