Pony was up to no good, as usual.

Pony was getting a bit sick of his girlfriend, Patty Marshall. Pony was smoking a cigarette outside of a local store while Patty went inside with a few of her friends to rob it.

Patty was pretty, sure-the kind of girl that Greasers should always date. Their own kind. They swear and spit and wear their skirts short. Gangster girls. Greaser girls.

Patty had straight jet black hair with streaks of light brown. She was always chewing on some sort of gum, the pink bubblegum matching with her lipstick. She wore black boots or heels, no flats, and she always had on an excess amount of eye makeup because she thought it made her look like Bridget Bordeaux.

He watched as Patty and her thug friends ran out of the store, holding stacks of cash and motioning for Pony to follow them.

Pony sighed and hitched his thumbs into his jeans, walking behind Patty.

"The hell, Pone?!" Patty demanded in her shrill voice that Pony used to find cute but is now starting to irk him the wrong way; "You were supposed to tell Soda to pick us up!"

Pony shrugged.

Just as Pony opened his mouth to try to calm her down, the church doors that they were across from swung open.

And Pony could've sworn he saw the pearly gates.

A group of girls bustled out...

Dang, they're worth praisin' the Lord for.

They all wore practically the same outfits, summer dresses that stopped at the lower thighs, a respectable length. Some of them were clutching bibles, all were wearing shiny flats. They were all so clean, so untouched and unscathed.

The type of girls that wouldn't look twice at Pony.

The girl that caught Pony's eye-she was undeniably much prettier than the other ones.

Her hair was worn in gentle curls around the delicate frame of her face, and she was wearing a low-cut top that Pony took a double take on, a silver cross wedged between the soft flesh of her chest, as well as a long skirt and damn stockings and everything.

She was everything out of Pony's reach, a sin and an an angel all at once.