Narrative

Mrs. Jones, finished my narrative, but the only thing im not sure of is how do we set up a conversation, where I have myself talking, another one talking, but also while this conversation is going im having thoughts about the conversation, oh and action. I'll give you what im talking about. mind you with just this conversation my narrative probably looks and sounds like crap, but honest its not that bad, I dont think. Oh, theres a couple choice language words, I know you said they were allowed, but I want to make sure, but this is really what I thought. Oh sorry this is so long. I dont have my paper written with the me/the evil one semi coloned, I have it like that so you can better understand it

me: Oh, did you know my grandma?
the evil one: yes, I did.
me: well, whats your name, because im not sure if she ever mentioned you before
the evil one: well she had a special nickname for me, but you can just call me patricia.
holds out her hand for me to shake
my thoughts: I would rather lick the bottom of an inner city trashcan, then touch your hand and I know what nickname I would have for you.
me: Oh, well isn't that sweet, yeah me and my grandma, we may have lived far away from one another, but we were really close and im pretty sure she never mentioned you
the evil one: really well thats a shame
my thought: im pretty damn well pleased she never mentioned you, because I hope she didnt know that you were fucking her drunkard of a husband, while she could barely stand
my suggary honey dripped voice left me, replaced with the most hateful, sarcastic voice that has ever came from my mouth

me: No, no its really not a shame, she probably never mentioned you, because you didnt make much of an impact on her life or any others for that matter other than Howard here, im sure you helped him through his grief so much in the bedroom.

I heard gasps all around me and the faces of adults held a look that to me just told me that I succeeded in everything I had set out to do and no other face told me more then the blond women in front of me. I turned and gave a mutinous look to my grandpa and turned back to the women and smirked at her and barely above a whisper, just so she and only she could hear what I was saying called her a whore. Then resumed the sweet innocent smile that I approached her with as a last parting note to remember me by and flounced off.