The whole appartement was trashed. Cups, plates, beer bottles, food, cigarette buds, and napkins littered the floors. In the bathroom, there were beer bottles, and puke on the floor, and on the toliet.

A seventeen-year-old girl glanced at her kitchen clock on the wall.

'3 a.m! Already, damn,' she thought to herself, and she went into the kitchen to get some rubber gloves, and a plastic bag. But when she got into the kitchen she saw that someone was asleep on the floor. She went over to them, and kicked them in the side. "Go home, bum," she said opening a cabinet beneath the sink, and pulling out a plastic bag.

"I'm trashed," he said sitting up. He rested against the wall, and with one eye being halfway open he watched as she went into a counter draw, and pulled out a pair of yellow latex rubber gloves.

She went back over to him, and kicked his leg lightly. "Go be trashed somewhere else," she said still kicking him.

"Stop kicking me," he said letting his head sink low.

Getting fustrated she gave up, and told him to go sleep on the couch.

"Thank you Frida," he said standing up. He staggered into her livingroom, and knocked-out on the couch.

She rolled her eyes, and began to clean the kitchen.

Around 5 a.m she finished cleaning, and took a quick shower. After her shower she quickly got dressed, and went to the livingroom. Before she went to bed she wanted to make sure he was alright.

In the livingroom the guy was asleep on couch; feet hanging off, and his right arm was above his head hanging off the rest.

"Comfortable," she said, going over to a shelf in the far end of the room. She picked up a blanket, and covered him up with it. Then she went to her bed for some needed sleep.


The sound of a alarm clock was going off. The owner of the clock wasn't waking up. Frida, after sometime finally smacked the snooze button on the alarm clock. She sat up, and rubbed her eyes.

"Noon already," she said, and got out of bed. She got dressed, and went into the livingroom.

She took a seat on the couch. "I gotta be downtown in half an hour," she moaned falling backwards on the couch.


She fell on a piece of paper. She quickly grabbed it from underneath herself, and read it:

How long do you sleep? I was up round' eight. Remember be at the plaza at 12:30.

She crumpled up the paper, and with a lucky shot, shot it into the garbage can without even looking.

She closed her eyes, and streched her arms above her head.

Suddenly the phone rang.

"Nobodies home," she said to the phone, but reluctently got up, and answered it.

"Hello," she greeted.

"I need bail," the guy on the other end said.

"How much," she questioned.

"six-hundred," he answered.

"Fine," she said rolling her eyes. "I'll there when at visiting hours," she said then hung up.

The guy on the other end was Strike, and you guessed it, he was in jail again. It was probably for uptaining a firearm, or disturbing the peace.

"Well better get going," she said leaving for the plaza.

A/N: I know, I know no dancing....yet. Its getting there. I know there aren't alot of Bust-A-Groove stories out there *watches tumbleweed float by*, so I decided to make one. Hope people still check here for stories. *looks at bear autitorum* Maybe I'll attract a crowd.