Goob X Scraps 13 Novels & Stories

Upon hearing her voice, Mike’s brows furrowed in annoyance. His tone held unmistakable disgust. “Why are you still at home? Where’s your mom?” Startled by the sudden scolding, Melanie flinched. Her eyes instantly reddened, but even so, she carefully held out the family portrait she had spent an entire week drawing. With a trembling voice, she said, “This is the family picture I drew. I wanted to give it to you when you arrive back at home…” Before she could finish her sentence, just as the picture—filled with her love and anticipation—was about to reach Mike’s hands, a small hand snatched it away rudely.

"Can't afford to pay up, huh?" Snickering, Rosie stepped forward and said, "That's easy! She can just get on her knees and lick the floor clean. For every drop she licks up, I'll give her a penny. Is it too much to lick up? Well, I don't care. She can keep licking until we're satisfied. Hahaha!" Plenty of people agreed with her cruel idea. "That's right. Get on your knees and lick the floor!" "Let us see the Takeout Queen work her magic, licking the floors clean!"

My breath caught,fogging the windshield in a jagged half moon as my trembling fingers inched upward, gripping the rearview mirror and tilting it down just enough to catch the dark, wet stretch of road behind me. Just the empty street curving away beneath the pale yellow glare of the overhead sodium lights, flanked by towering brick facades and the dripping shadows of the park. My chest rose and fell rapidly,each breath strained by the surge of adrenaline. I exhaled a shaky breath, a pathetic attempt to steady the static roaring in my ears. A prank. It has to be so a twisted prank “i said softly” A random spam number or a cruel neighbor playing off the mist and the late hour.

Oliver pulls me close to him and then takes my blindfold off. A bald Asian man stands in front of me wearing a green robe, something that looks Chinese. He’s not old, maybe in his late thirties, but he has scars everywhere. “Ah yes…when you told us you were coming and had this little special present for us, we had something special made for her.” “Hardly a present. I expect payment,” Oliver says. “In full,” the man says and throws a bag on the table in front of us. “You’re selling me!” I look at Oliver, but he doesn’t even glance my way.

The smell of rotting and decay is strong, and I pull my ponytail over my face, using it as a mask. “Is this a nest?” I whisper, looking at the pushed-down patches of weeds. It reminds me a bit of a deer bed but smells like the inside of a dumpster…just like the scrapper demons. “Scrappers don’t nest.” I shift my gaze to Binx, knowing he’s thinking the same. Suddenly, two more scrappers rush at us. Binx takes one, wrestling it to the ground. “See if you can find out what’s making them so strong!” I yell as I jump away from the big scrapper coming after me. There’s blood on its face, shining from the light of the energy ball above us.

Then—screech. A shrill noise of skidding tires. I turned my head. An unkempt black SUV surged backward from its position, shaking like a beast in chaotic fury. The driver's head sagged agonizingly against the rolled-down window, a half-empty bottle glimmering in his impotent hand. I could feel my blood freeze. He is drunk. The headlights lit my way as they appraised me; the SUV roared backward, too fast, too close. I was frozen to the spot, fear cementing my feet to the ground.

He clutched his trembling Pomeranian tightly to his chest and turned to walk away unsteadily. Dexter still wasn't satisfied, so he turned back and dragged his key along the car, scraping off the paint and exposing the primer underneath. I crouched down and aimed my phone at the scratch before snapping a photo. Dexter kicked my phone away with a loud clatter. "What do you think you're taking pictures of? Who gave you the guts to do that? Do you think I'm scared of you calling the cops? Go ahead!" Just then, Jim Griffin, the property manager of the complex, walked over. His beer belly jiggled with each step. "What's going on? Why are you two arguing this early in the morning?"

well, because that place gave him bad vibes, period. Afterward he couldn’t find another job. With rent and utilities due, he’d gotten desperate. Inspiration struck one day when he saw an old ‘93 Dodge Caravan creeping around town on garbage day, stopping at curbs, the driver getting out and sifting through the junk left for trash pickup. He’d been looking for anything metal. Scrap metal to turn into Greene’s. Bobby thought maybe he could score some scrap metal and turn it in, somehow collect enough cash to help him squeak through the month. So the following Wednesday night he got into his beat-up Isuzu pickup and prowled the streets of Clifton Heights, looking for scrap metal. He passed that

He nodded and submitted our evidence. It was the complete redemption record for every single scratch card from the book Mom gave me at the start of the semester. 20 minutes passed. The judge frowned and looked up. "We have verified the codes on this book of scratch cards. Indeed, everything the defendant has provided is authentic. "This book of scratch cards cost 500 dollars. The total amount scratched from it was approximately 265 dollars. You intended for the defendant to live on just over 200 dollars for an entire semester?" Mom scrambled to defend herself. "She… She has good luck. Didn't she win five million? Are you sure you didn't make a mistake?"

It was a reason to smile. “Yes,” she said. “Maybe six?” “I’ll get ‘em,” Scars said. “We have a bunch of boxes from a big alcohol delivery before the New Year that we haven’t recycled yet. I’ll grab a few.” “Thanks,” Jo said. “Thank you, all of you. Would you pass that on to Ice too? He left before I got the chance.” “You know it, sweetheart,” Scars said as he walked out the door. “I’ll meet you guys behind Satan’s. You need the bar delivery van, Silver? Or you’ll take the cage from The Garage?”