Cherry Soda Boy
folder
Final Fantasy VII › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
8
Views:
843
Reviews:
14
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Final Fantasy VII › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
8
Views:
843
Reviews:
14
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Cherry Soda Boy
Authors Note: To Moderators- If I remember correctly, you said you would give me a chance to come back if I only showed my face when I turned 18 for real. Well, incase you need any proof- www.myspace.com/jennersrose- Thats my myspace, and it clearly saids in bright red letters that I am 18 for real now. I am sorry for my behavior earlier, and I hope I can stay here and post my work. If you need any further proof of my age, I will provide you with it.
ANYWAY, ON TO THE STORY.
Chapter One: Introduction
Growing up in the richest part of the white trash borough of New York, Staten Island, is a frequent dream of half the population of my school. However for me, Cloud Strife, I’d rather live in the deepest part of hell than spend my life surrounded by the fascist close-minded people I call…my neighbors.
My dad works on Wall street in good old Manhattan making millions a day, while my ever attentive mother sits on her ass all day drinking. I hardly ever see my father, between working and screwing his secretary there really is no time is his ever changing schedule to actually talk to his son. There was once a time where he and I talked for hours and hours about girls and work and becoming a well rounded millionaire. That stopped when I turned two. My relationship with my mother is even worse. Her idea of “mother- son bonding” is to lecture me on how NOT to embarrass this family. We have a “reputation” to keep, and, allow me to quote her on this, “If you mess up just once, I will make sure you never see the light of day for as long as you live, Mister Cloud.” Complete with the lethal alcohol breath and poison spit.
Despite having these “wonderful” parents, I did manage to come out with my own style and way of thinking. Instead of dressing in the mandatory uniform of Abercrombie and Aeropastle, I go towards the darker side of fashion. Can anyone say Hot Topic? The same goes for my crazy hairstyle. Blond hair with hints of brown, spiked up, down, everywhere for that matter. Every boy in my neighborhood plays a mindless sport like basketball, me however, I take sword lessons. And no one can prove that I am the one who attempted to stab Sephiroth last Tuesday, even though he maybe deserved it.
Unlike most of the kids in my neighborhood, I go to a public school in one of the most dangerous neighborhood in Staten Island. My parents, as most of you can all ready gather, where extremely P.Oed when I told them I wanted to go to Harbor View High. They thought I had gone completely insane, so much so that they sent me to a mental institution for the entire summer. My psychiatrist eventually told them that I suffer from, “Post Traumatic Stress” disorder, which was a result of being tortured for nine LOVELY years at the all boy Catholic Elementary school. And since my parents did not want me to embarrass them further, they let me go to public school.
I hang out with a very strange group of people I guess I can call my friends. My oldest friend, Vincent Valentine, is what I like to call a vampire. Now, I do not mean those freaks that run around at night sporting fake fangs biting each other, I mean a true dark angsty vampire that one would only encounter in Bram Stoker famous novel “Dracula.” I thought he was a ghost the first time I met him in the 3rd grade; pale as now skin, dark, shiny black hair, and I swear he has crimson eyes. He is quiet, stoic and only talks when he feels the need to insult me or give me some advice. On the other side of the coin, there is Cid Highwind, who I met freshman year. He is loud, angry and sometimes just plain annoying. He stole my hair color, yes blond with brownish highlights only his is shorter; I should be paid for starting this trend. Barrett Wallace is the biggest guy I have ever seen in my life. Muscles everywhere, 6’4, just transferred from a Juvenile Facility in Brooklyn, so naturally I invited him to our lunch table. Him and Cid got into a cursing match right as he sat down. To this day I never saw the reason for Cid to start cursing him out, but who am I to judge.
As for girlfriends, non of us have any. Stalkers though, we got more than we which to talk about. Tifa Lockheat, Aeris Gainsborough and Yuffie Kisarigi are the three chicks that make my blood boil every time I am forced to look at them. Tifa is a whore with a boob job, who has done just about anyone with a penis in my school. Aeris is an ex-girlfriend of mine who lives down the block. Why I ever got involve with a spoiled brat like her is beyond me, and my hatred for her has NOTHING to do with the fact that she left me for Sephiroth. Finally there is Yuffie, who, in simplest terms, is the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard.
Other than the occasional detention and lecture, all in all my life was the dullest thing next an overused knife. I used to think it would always be this way, hell I would have bet my life that it would only get worse. That is, until the boy with the cherry colored hair decided to turn my seemingly perfect world upside down.
ANYWAY, ON TO THE STORY.
Growing up in the richest part of the white trash borough of New York, Staten Island, is a frequent dream of half the population of my school. However for me, Cloud Strife, I’d rather live in the deepest part of hell than spend my life surrounded by the fascist close-minded people I call…my neighbors.
My dad works on Wall street in good old Manhattan making millions a day, while my ever attentive mother sits on her ass all day drinking. I hardly ever see my father, between working and screwing his secretary there really is no time is his ever changing schedule to actually talk to his son. There was once a time where he and I talked for hours and hours about girls and work and becoming a well rounded millionaire. That stopped when I turned two. My relationship with my mother is even worse. Her idea of “mother- son bonding” is to lecture me on how NOT to embarrass this family. We have a “reputation” to keep, and, allow me to quote her on this, “If you mess up just once, I will make sure you never see the light of day for as long as you live, Mister Cloud.” Complete with the lethal alcohol breath and poison spit.
Despite having these “wonderful” parents, I did manage to come out with my own style and way of thinking. Instead of dressing in the mandatory uniform of Abercrombie and Aeropastle, I go towards the darker side of fashion. Can anyone say Hot Topic? The same goes for my crazy hairstyle. Blond hair with hints of brown, spiked up, down, everywhere for that matter. Every boy in my neighborhood plays a mindless sport like basketball, me however, I take sword lessons. And no one can prove that I am the one who attempted to stab Sephiroth last Tuesday, even though he maybe deserved it.
Unlike most of the kids in my neighborhood, I go to a public school in one of the most dangerous neighborhood in Staten Island. My parents, as most of you can all ready gather, where extremely P.Oed when I told them I wanted to go to Harbor View High. They thought I had gone completely insane, so much so that they sent me to a mental institution for the entire summer. My psychiatrist eventually told them that I suffer from, “Post Traumatic Stress” disorder, which was a result of being tortured for nine LOVELY years at the all boy Catholic Elementary school. And since my parents did not want me to embarrass them further, they let me go to public school.
I hang out with a very strange group of people I guess I can call my friends. My oldest friend, Vincent Valentine, is what I like to call a vampire. Now, I do not mean those freaks that run around at night sporting fake fangs biting each other, I mean a true dark angsty vampire that one would only encounter in Bram Stoker famous novel “Dracula.” I thought he was a ghost the first time I met him in the 3rd grade; pale as now skin, dark, shiny black hair, and I swear he has crimson eyes. He is quiet, stoic and only talks when he feels the need to insult me or give me some advice. On the other side of the coin, there is Cid Highwind, who I met freshman year. He is loud, angry and sometimes just plain annoying. He stole my hair color, yes blond with brownish highlights only his is shorter; I should be paid for starting this trend. Barrett Wallace is the biggest guy I have ever seen in my life. Muscles everywhere, 6’4, just transferred from a Juvenile Facility in Brooklyn, so naturally I invited him to our lunch table. Him and Cid got into a cursing match right as he sat down. To this day I never saw the reason for Cid to start cursing him out, but who am I to judge.
As for girlfriends, non of us have any. Stalkers though, we got more than we which to talk about. Tifa Lockheat, Aeris Gainsborough and Yuffie Kisarigi are the three chicks that make my blood boil every time I am forced to look at them. Tifa is a whore with a boob job, who has done just about anyone with a penis in my school. Aeris is an ex-girlfriend of mine who lives down the block. Why I ever got involve with a spoiled brat like her is beyond me, and my hatred for her has NOTHING to do with the fact that she left me for Sephiroth. Finally there is Yuffie, who, in simplest terms, is the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard.
Other than the occasional detention and lecture, all in all my life was the dullest thing next an overused knife. I used to think it would always be this way, hell I would have bet my life that it would only get worse. That is, until the boy with the cherry colored hair decided to turn my seemingly perfect world upside down.