Information

Townie_937 has a minion!

I forgot to feed the Tamagot

Townie_937
Legacy Name: Townie_937

The

Sun Popoko
Owner:

Holocryptic

Age: 11 years, 6 months, 2 weeks

Born: November 4th, 2012

Adopted: 11 years, 5 months, 6 days ago

Adopted: December 12th, 2012

Statistics

Level: 46
Strength: 116
Defense: 115
Speed: 115
Health: 115
HP: 109/115
Intelligence: 159
Books Read: 157
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Operations Specialist

"Take me out tonight
Where there's music and there's people
And they're young and alive"

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Townie a slang term that could mean many things. The most popular definition is a resident in a town, especially if they live in a college town of which they do not attend or work for. The term is also associated with words like 'chav'.

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The lights burn her eyes while the alcohol burns in her belly. Her head’s too heavy and she’s getting tired.

But it’s good. It’s all good.

She takes a swig. Maybe if she got just a little more drunk, she’ll stop winding down. She really didn’t want to wind down right now.

…On second thought, the alcohol probably wouldn’t help. Oh well, whatever.

She blearily stares out, not at her friends but towards the streets, the buildings, the lights. Somebody tells a joke and she snickers, though she’s not actually paying attention.

Her thoughts are hazy, many, and contradicting, the strongest being; ‘Damn the lights look nice right now’, ‘annoying though’, ‘but it’s fine, still pretty’.

“…heading out”.

The words pierces her eardrums. She looks over her shoulder and at them.

“Huh?” she asks.

“Me and Dani are heading back. We got something to do tomorrow”.

Another friend swings his shoulders back.

“Yeah, I gotta go too”.

Damn. Looks like the party’s ending early. Too many people are leaving too soon.

She grins lazily and punches his shoulder.

“Aww c’mon. A little longer?”

“Sorry, Harls”.

She scrunches her nose. Harls was such an ugly nickname. Sounds like hurls. And that’s exactly why they use it.

“I need to study”.

She sighs.

“Alright, see ya”.

The night out lasts for some odd minutes later, maybe a half-hour but nobody’s keeping track. Still, it all ends so suddenly now that the core members had left. The rest of the group soon disperses. She sits on a bench. A mostly empty can of beer is the only thing that's keeping her company.

It’s either hang out, alone, and out on the streets in the middle of night or go home. This is not a good place or a good time to be alone.

She looks up at the sky and then at the alley ways. She takes a small sip.

She genuinely considers it.

---

She flops onto bed. Another night, another crash. Same old, same old. But it’s all good. It was good while it lasted. Really, a short good time is better than none.

She didn’t even have to deal with her mom or her shitty boyfriends this time. Yay.

All considering, it was a good day. It was an okay day.

....Then why does it feel so bad?

She eyes her diary, untouched on the side table for weeks now. Dust is starting to obscure the words on the cover ( "Harley's Diary GTFO" ). The urge to write is there, but there’s nothing to write about. It’s the same old, same old.

She sleeps instead. The next morning she’ll dress quickly and leave. Maybe she’ll grab a bite to eat before she goes, but usually she’d buy a small snack later.

She never wants to stay home too long.

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