|Her Brain Got Lost in the Airwaves
Author: Luci-chan's Lunchbox Of Doom PM
Sometimes being a 17-year-old is pretty typical. Other times it's a roller coaster. But one thing's for certain: It's going to be a wild ride. language, suggestive and questionable themes, bad influences, addiction, etc.Rated: Fiction M - English - Humor/Friendship - Words: 1,518 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 1 - Published: 02-14-08 - id: 2475633
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Her Brain Got Lost in the Airwaves
Chapter One: Single's Awareness Day
02142008 – 0849P
AN: Well, this story was kind of a request fic. Not like, an explicit request, just kind of one in passing. Casey.Clearly. posted a request that I write a story about my life after some comments I made in one of her stories (check out "Chocolate Covered Boxer Briefs"), so… I am. Now, I know that "Toads" was technically about my life, but I have developed a new outlook since then. Lol. So I'm restarting with this one. Toads will probably be removed.
Anyway, let's get on with this, shall we.
Most of the time, I think I live a pretty typical life. I live in your typical small rural town. Seriously small. There are cows. And chickens. And hicks on ATVs. Without helmets. The stupid people just keep getting themselves killed that way. Hopefully before they procreate.
I go to your typical small-town high school. Gossip flies at the speed of light when it only has fourteen hundred people to get through. The principals know my name. They tried to expel me my freshman year. One guy in a little red car (we call him Stan the Parking Man) watches the parking lot for derelicts. And when he finds them he bums a cigarette off of them and then goes on his own way. It's a pretty effective system, except that it costs me almost a pack a year.
I work at your typical small-town job. Dollar Tree. At least twenty people every day ask me, "How much is this?" I'm like, "You're at the dollar store…" I wear an apron that says "Everything's a Dollar!" and get hit on in creepy ways by lecherous men asking, "So… Everything's a dollar?" Insert lewd grin here.
I have your typical small-town family. Mom, Dad, and a brother. My mom works as an RN, my dad works for USGS (which basically means he measures the water level of rivers all day), and my brother, John, works at Cici's Pizza. We're not rich, we're not poor. We're pretty typical.
But typical-ness bores me. I feel I'm destined for greater things.
Or that's what I keep telling myself.
Here's how my day typically goes:
5:30 am: My alarm clock goes off. I punish it with a few choice words and then go back to sleep.
6:00 am: I wake up in a panic to realize just how late I am.
6:30 am: I leave, dragging a reluctant John with me. He sleeps in the car.
6:45 am: I get to school and drag ass to Penny (my best friend Britty's car) for a cigarette and companionable silence. Sometimes I watch Curtis Adams in his parking spot, because he dances to his music.
7:10 am: I leave somewhat reluctantly to go into the actual school. I wave to Stan the Parking Man, who pretends not to see me.
7:20 am: First block. AP English 12. Mrs. Faulkner is crazy, but you'll hear more about her later.
8:58 am: Second block. Advanced Chem. Mr. Ketz scares me. You'll probably hear about him later, too.
10:38 am: Lunch time. It usually makes me sick, but I eat it anyway.
11:08 am: Time to catch the VoTech bus to Mr. Byrge's Marketing and Advertising class. You may or may not hear about him later.
12:45 pm: Fourth block. Civics and Government. It's my second time in the class. I currently have a 14. I'll have to work on that. It's taught by Mrs. Bartram, but you probably won't hear about her.
2:20 pm: The bell thankfully, mercifully, wonderfully rings to signal the end of the day.
4:00 pm: I may or may not go to work.
9:00 pm: I may or may not come home from work.
After that it's pretty foggy. I shower at some point, surf the net, and then pass out. I think I probably do homework somewhere in there, as well.
Today was Valentine's Day, or as people like me (who are not participating) like to call it, Single's Awareness Day. Because you're never more aware that you're single until you see all the couples on Valentine's Day.
I wrote "Love" on my arm for the To Write Love On Her Arms campaign. Apparently the day before Valentine's Day has the highest suicide rate of the year. So I'm a day behind in joining the campaign. That's fine with me. I'm usually pretty late with things.
I brought doughnuts in for first block, but no one ate them. I guess I should've seen that coming, considering how much trouble I went through to get them there. I had to carry all three dozen of them, plus my book bag, current book (His Dark Materials), which is too big to fit in my bag, my purse, and my Renaissance costume for club picture day (which didn't actually happen, thanks to the two hour delay), all the way from the student parking lot to the far side of the school. I about died.
We're reading a book called Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe. It pretty much sucks balls. I think I'd rather read Ethan Frome again. And just to give you an idea of just how much that means, I hated Ethan Frome so much that I actually burned the book halfway through. And I despise the idea of burning books. But it was a huge mistake on my part, because then I had to give Mrs. Cashion twenty bucks to replace the stupid thing, even though I consider what I did to be a favour to society. A public service, if you will.
Today was like a demented form of Oprah's Book Club. We went around the room telling what we thought about the book.
"It's elementary," I said, matter-of-factly.
"Well, what do you mean by that?" Mrs. Faulkner prodded me to expand.
"Like, the vocabulary is so limited. He just keeps saying the same thing, in such simple terms, with no variation, that it's difficult to picture this culture, which in reality should be so easy to portray as just how diverse it is."
The book is about the Ibo tribe of Nigeria many, many years ago. They ate a lot of yams. Sometimes they would throw people into the evil forest to die. If they tried to come back to the village, they were taken back into the forest and tied to a tree. There was a character named Ikemafuna. I think if I ever get a dog (unlikely, since I dislike the idea of being responsible for anything's life), I will name it Ikemafuna. And I'd call it Iky for short.
Lauren gave me three candy hearts. I actually don't like anything Necco, but I took them anyway. They're still in my pocket.
It was a lab day in Chemistry, which means that Mr. Ketz was in his usual bad mood. He yells a lot. He scares me a lot. It's no real wonder his daughter wants nothing to do with him. He's a condescending bastard at best. And he has a weak chin. Weak chins bother me.
All of the aprons (which we are required to wear) smell really bad and weigh about twenty pounds, which makes my neck hurt. The goggles are scratched up so we can't see anything, but we're not allowed to remove them at the lab table.
No one ate any doughnuts in Chemistry, either.
Although Mr. Ketz did make it a point to yell at me for neglecting to offer him one.
But then when I did, he told me he'd sooner die than eat one.
Bastard of a man.
My friend Roxy is Catholic, which means she can't eat meat on Wednesdays and Thursdays this month, which happens to be Lent. Yesterday Mr. Bozarth got the last fish sandwich at lunch. She spent the rest of the lunch period grumbling about how he's not even Catholic.
She also gave up chocolate, which made even me a little sad.
I gave up smoking. I'm not Catholic, but I thought I'd observe it, anyway, cause being a Unitarian Universalist, I'm like the chameleon of religion.
I didn't last a day.
I had quit smoking for a while. Then everything went to hell.
AN: I'm sorry this chappy is short. And choppy. And crappy. But it's an intro, and don't my stories usually get better? Have faith. Lol.
Please stick around. As ordinary as I say my life is, some stuff occasionally happens. And I get the feeling it'll be happening very soon. ;)