Saturday, April 21, 2012


Hello. So following this is a short story which I have written. It doesn't have a title yet, but I'm thinking about one. I hope you enjoy it.
Some people have such audacity. It’s incredible really. Insulting, in fact. How could such stupidity be allowed on this planet? You would think we would have eliminated all the riff-raff by now. Supposedly the human race is so advanced, with technology and all. But we won’t truly be advanced until all the idiots are dead.
         This one girl-goodness. She ought to be the first to go. There is really no hope for her. It’s kind of sad in a way. I mean, it’s not her fault she is so stupid. It’s just what fate dealt her.
         Just last week we were giving oral presentations in English class for our final project. I worked hard on my project. I have to say mine was the best. I probably would have gotten over 100% on it were it not for that idiot.
         It came time for me to present and so, I made my way to the front of the classroom. I’m standing up there and this girl just gets up and sits her fat ass down in my desk. Who does that? In what universe is this okay? You should have seen her face too. No shame or guilt whatsoever. Of course, she doesn’t have the mental capacity or depth to feel shame. Idiots never do. Nobody else noticed, as I expected. They were all just chirping away like birds that won’t shut up, the brainless little bastards. I was livid.
        I always try my hardest to be the better person, turn the other cheek. I’m a pacifist by nature. But this idiot needed a reality check. It was for her own good. In the real world people don’t turn the other cheek. They tell you like it is. So, in my charitable attempt to learn this girl, I spoke up.

“Umm, excuse me. What do you think you’re doing?”
       It took about five long seconds for this idiot to realize I was addressing her.
       Of course. What else could you expect as a response from a Neanderthal besides a grunt?
“I said what do you think you’re doing?”
"What are you talking about?”
       I stood there gaping. By this time the class was silent, all their beady little eyes on me.
“My desk. Why are you in it?”
“Did I say you could sit in my seat?”
"Do you want me to move back?”
“Of course you moron. Who do you think you are to just sit in my seat at your whim?”
      To this day I still wonder who the fuck she thinks she is.
      Of course, that pissed her boyfriend off (he is an imbecile as well) who then proceeded to get unnecessarily confrontational with me, the cocky little shit. You should have seen him, rushing up to me. I swear guys like him get off on that shit. The testosterone and adrenaline was pumping through his body, practically oozing out of him. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to punch me or rape me at that point. I wouldn’t doubt it if he turned out to be gay, especially for me because I am one fine cut of meat. Guys like him are always the secret fags. He’ll come out just before graduation and everyone will love him for it because it just proves his courage. Then he will go off to art school in Germany, and have a torrid love affair with his sixty-five year old Renaissance Art professor who dies of a heart-attack in the middle of vigorous love-making. Five years later he will settle down with the owner of a bistro who cheats on him with a young, Italian, female model. As a result, he will live the rest of his life working for the post office, selling handmade booklets of cheap, uninspired poetry on the side, and spending his nights sipping vodka in the dark whilst stroking his Boston Terrier. But I digress.
        His breath stunk of plaque and microwave breakfast sausages. Sausages. Of course.
“Nobody calls my girl a moron, jerk-off!”
All I could manage to get out was,“Shave your unibrow”, because he was standing so close to me that the thing was all that was in my field of vision.
         Being the impulsive, sexually confused freak he is, the ape punched me after I said this. Next thing I know, I’m in the hospital. Much to my chagrin, I was forced to stay in the psych ward because I have “anger-management issues”, whatever the hell that means. Then, they gave me this fucking journal so I can “vent” or whatever. Idiots. I couldn’t wait to get out so I could find out how long the bastard that decked me was going to be in juvenile detention. I went to my first group therapy session and guess who is sitting right next to me. That’s right, the ape. I don’t know how much longer I can fucking handle listening to how his father was never there for him and abused his little sisters. All that typical crap. Only one good thing has arisen from this string of unfortunate events, and that is that stupid gorilla finally shaved his unibrow.

No comments:

Post a Comment