Revised Chapter 1.
So I was hit by a Car the other Day...
So I was hit by a car the other day.
I'm serious. Not even joking. It's not even something that you can or should joke about. But really, what a great way to fuck around with somebody: 'Oh yeah, I didn't get a chance to go... Kinda got hit by a car...' Cue panicked audience here.
But things are okay. At least, I am. Car accident wise, it was the most pathetic car vs. human collision to ever occur. But anyway. In all honesty, in the big scheme of life, things weren't that great. I was hanging in there, but there's only so much a guy can take. The whole getting hit by a car thing wasn't even the beginning. Oh no, somebody's had it out for me since day one. Their plan on my slow, painful demise intensified, and gradually, my luck began to worsen.
As opposed to saying how it started the day I was born, I'll be a bit more definitive, and I guess you could say that the beginning of it all began the day before the car ran into me.
0 0 0
I was told that day, interrupting my rant against loud construction occurring before noon, that I had some extreme case of male PMS. Pissed because I hated being cut off, especially because my sister always cut me off, and I was on a fucking roll, I replied it was because I was breathing the same air as her, and proceeded to flip her off and stomped all two steps it took to get to my room. What a ludicrous and insulting statement; being on my soapbox did not categorize me as the male version of a girl who was or was about to menstruate.
Ugh, the word 'menstruate' is gross beyond words.
Anyway. I was still harboring this extreme, burning hatred for everything when I checked my online bank account to find that I had negative one hundred and fifty eight dollars. That little negative sign stood out more than the flashing breasts from a pop-up add. Let me reiterate: I had exactly negative one hundred and fifty eight dollars. And eleven cents.
What the fuck. How was this possible?
Despite the fact that I had no concrete job, I had gone out of my way to ensure that I would at least, have more than zero dollars still there. And zero is still more than negative one hundred and fifty eight dollars, and eleven cents.
I knew I was still okay when I got a parking ticket the other day which is going to cost me thirty six dollars, which one may have thought impossible since I drove a motorcycle (aptly named Wifey II), and we with crotch rockets can park virtually anywhere.
I had already been skipping breakfast and lunch for the past three weeks in anticipation for the payment I was to make on my rent, sometime in the very near future.
And I still had to pay my portion of the electric and gas bill.
And I was supposed to take that cute girl I bumped into the other day out- oh wait, that never happened. Never mind this one.
And I was supposed to grow up to be mildly successful, get a hot wife and breed some cute kids and not be in debt.
And I was supposed to not have my life end at the tender age of seventeen.
And I know that really, life could be worse and I could owe fifty thousand dollars or something, as opposed to... whatever I owe, but just the mere fact that I'm already living a cheap, minimalist's life, and I have no idea how the hell I could ever owe the bank that much money ruins my entire being. Despite the fact that it's not even that much money.
I sat and hit refresh several more times, hoping that there was a mistake involved or that somehow, with every click of a button, that the numbers would jump up. Five minutes of this and with the continuous sinking of, I dunno, my heart, (a feeling I'm all too familiar with) and when that finally hit rock bottom, I realized that this was no lie.
Letting that settle, I stared some more at the shitty laptop in front of me. And then it really hit me.
"What the fuck!" I yelled at the screen, and swivelled around to face the other way. "What the fuck!" I repeated again, this time to the ceiling space above my head. My neighbor's orange cat, Mr. Fluffy, was curled up near the edge of my bed, and my tirade made it simply turn it's head towards me and blink sleepily. "You fucking bag of fur!" I yelled at my new target, and scooped up the obese feline and held it in the air. "What. The. Fuck!" With each word, I gave the cat a hard shake. When Mr. Fluffy didn't respond, I dropped it back onto my bed where it rolled over and went back to sleep. I sat back down on my cheap office chair.
I felt a little better.
"What are you yelling about now?" Tiff, my sister leaned against my doorway, arms crossed.
"Nothing," I snapped, "Your face."
She rolled her eyes and walked away. Despite the fact that it's just been me and her living together for the past year and a half or so, maybe two years even, we have consistent communication problems. We kinda have this 'Take care of your own shit,' policy going on, since it's what we're used to. I actually get weirded out by extended moments of sibling normalcy. I do love her and all, it's just that we're both extremely guarded about everything.
Besides that, I pretty much owe her everything. Tiff was the one who initiated contact again, after social services split us up during our foster home years, and she was the one who came up with this mastermind plan to pull me out of the system as soon as she was out, and old enough to 'adopt' me.
So I'm gonna be honest, I'm my sister's complete tool, as that everything she asks me to do I eventually have to do it out of obligation. Doesn't mean I agree, and it doesn't mean I don't fight it, but some of the decisions she makes I'm surprised actually go through because I don't put half the effort in that I should.
Like the fact that I'm somehow attending a private school, made possible by a straight up full academic scholarship. That was a surprise to the both of us, since I only took the exams and went to the interviews because Tiff told me to, and I was not getting along with my foster parents then. I was accused but never caught of doing a lot of things, and more often than not, they were absolutely correct so the whole, 'No, I was not smoking pot or selling drugs or drinking alcohol or hanging out with my thug pals or listening to rock and roll, I went to an interview at the Academy with my older sister so I can leave this filthy place, assholes!' would leave them speechless.
Of course, I didn't really think that through, and I actually did not want this to happen. The private school thing, not the 'In yo' face!' part. That part I still relish to this day... If I didn't know I was already at least semi-intelligent (when it came to being polite when I had to and memorizing stupid things from textbooks), I would be positive that they mixed up the tests- or decided to give me a full scholarship since catering to a troubled-background teen like me would make the school look good? I dunno, doesn't really make sense to me. Fucked me over in the end, regardless, since this destroyed my comfortable state of apathy. No longer could I just go to school whenever I felt like (which back then, was usually everyday- just to get out; it was the whole act of staying the full day which was hard) and still do okay, but I have to now, god forbid, apply myself.
So that pissed me off, but that didn't piss me off as much as Tiff's recent decision to begin taking college courses as a part time student. Hello, what about rent? Where did we get this money? What about me?
I have so much shit going on, I can make a soap opera on just me. Just take out anything based on relationships with the other sex. Because lord knows I haven't gotten any since... ever. Apparently I don't walk around with awesome pheromones that scream 'I have a sexy ass AND I'm single!' or 'I have a sexy ass, and even though I may or may not be taken, you don't care because you just want to jump me!' But enough on my shortcomings with the female gender.
I was laying face down on my bed when my neighbor, the owner of the fat Mr. Fluffy, walked in. "Oh, there's my cat," he said, and I turned my head to see him wander into my room. He waggled his fingers at the cat, who was leaning quite comfortably against my side, eyes squinting shut. "Hey, stupid cat, c'mere."
"Linx, I think he's sleeping," I said, even though if he wasn't, he probably wouldn't have moved anyway.
"I think he's retarded. Anyway..." I noticed a stack of magazines under Linx's arm. "I was cleaning out my place," he continued, "You want any of these?"
I rolled over and sat up, "What are they?"
Linx dropped the stack on the end of my bed and presented the first one. "We have here this lovely past June issue of Maxim magazine, among others," I nodded my approval, and he rifled through the pile to pick out the next one, "Some random ass car magazines that aren't mine," he continued, "And finally," he said with a grin, and pulled out the next few magazines, "We have the ass-tastic Miss October, July and August of Playboy fame."
"Hmm," I extended my hand to take them.
Linx held on to them for a second and gave me a faux-serious look, "Listen, Lucky, take care of these, they've treated me well..."
Dramatically he lowered the magazines, and there, right before the magazines were passed off to me, mere millimeters away form my fingers, was when my sister popped into my doorway.
"Hey, Linx?" she said. "Do you think you could-"
Caught off guard, he reacted immediately. "No!" he yelled, as if berating a dog that just pissed on your carpet, "Lucky, no!" and threw the magazines at me, "I don't want your nudie mags!"
"Ack!" I yelled as a battalion of glossy pages accosted my face.
"Stop trying to give me your porn!" Linx said, louder than necessary. He turned around and shook his head at my sister, "Look at what your brother's trying to do." He turned back toward me, still shaking his head in a severe manner. Tiff peered around him to see the centerfold of the blonde and curvaceous Miss October resting on me like a sash.
"... Right," she said, and began to back away, "So uh, Linx, you think maybe you could gimme a ride.."
"What? Damn it, woman, I just got back," he said and followed her out.
"So did I! And I have class in ten minutes, but I really need to get there early because I need to talk to my professor-"
"Fine, fine, stop nagging."
"Yes! Thank you so much, Linx."
Linx muttered some reply, and I was only able to pick up the words "owe" and "sexual favors."
Tiff stuck her head into my room as I was carefully folding up Miss October. "Hey, you can have the rest of the leftovers in the fridge for dinner."
"I'll be back late, so you better be done with your essay. See you."
I sighed; I had almost forgotten about that... "Bye," I mumbled. I listened to them leave, only to hear them come back, seconds later.
Linx trotted into my room. "Forgot my keys, forgot my keys," he was chanting. I watched him dig through the pile of magazines.
"Gee, how did you lose your keys under my stack of porn?" I laughed.
"Hey," Linx glared, "I can giveth, and I can taketh," he somberly said, and then cackling, threw some more magazines at my face.
Finding his keys (underneath the rest of the stack), Linx ran back out. He's more like our other room mate than next door neighbor, as that our side-by-side apartments act more like extended rooms; it's a well known fact between our friends that if we're not here, then we're at Linx's, using his TV or drinking his alcohol. If he's not at his place, then he's usually here, eating our food and harassing Tiff.
Random story: During this past summer we, the three of us, managed to get onto the roof of our building and were sitting around watching fireworks from a nearby street festival. I don't remember exactly what Linx was saying, because I was sitting further down, but I turned in time to see Tiff give him an incredulous look and say, "Linx, you are ridiculous." And that is by far, the most accurate description of him.
But anyway, enough about that. Let us focus now on more important things: my bank account.
... Actually, that's really depressing. Maybe it's time to check out what's in the fridge...
0 0 0
As a pro at escapism and procrastination, I spent the rest of the night going between the TV and my computer, or both at the same time as I sat on my ass on the couch and played video games on my computer, while the TV was on in the background.
It wasn't until Tiff came home around ten or eleven, which was when I started my paper (or pretended I was halfway through so Tiff wouldn't get on my case), which unfortunately dragged itself out until five in the morning.
Fucking 5 A.M. If I had finished at four, then I could've at least gotten an hour or two of sleep in, but five? Five was too risky. So, after an epic battle against my archaic printer, I took a shower, then scoured the rest of the kitchen to find something for breakfast, and left the apartment really early so I could take a leisurely walk to school, and to also minimize any time sitting down as to lessen the possibility of falling into a coma.
The area I lived in was mostly apartment buildings and small cafes, and the residents were mostly college students from the nearby university, or young couples. Cheap housing for people who needed it. Being so early in the morning, even the roads were nearly empty. Within the next five to ten minutes though, it was sure to become a bustle activity as people began their commute to work, or school for the other highschool kids like me.
I hate waking up early, but I wish I did more often; I like these quiet, peaceful times I have with myself. It's relaxing, and I can even get to school looking as decent as the other kids. Even though, with the school uniform consisting of the whole tie, blazer and dress shirt deal, only I can mess that one up and not look decent. I'll show them all today, and smite them with my impeccable dress. Like, I'll actually have my tie done correctly, collar straight, and my shirt tucked in, no stain from yesterday's altercation with the orange juice not staying in it's carton, and I definitely won't be profusely sweating like a juicy pig from running the entire way there.
But anyway, this bright, fresh autumn morning made me chipper enough to put aside my bigger problems (such as... lack of money) and think of more innocent things. Things like, 'Wow, today seems like it will be a good day today!' I was happy I was in such a good mood, which put me in an even better mood. Which was all very, very strange. Remember, I haven't slept at all last night. And so, I made a list:
THINGS I WANT but don't necessarily need but it'd be awesome nonetheless.
1. A theme song. How hot would that be?
2. A zippo lighter. Because they're that much cooler than the lighters you can get at the dollar store.
3. Spinner rims for Wifey II. Not for everyday use though, just for when I feel like being all bling bling like, and ghetto to boot. Actually, they're pretty useless. And stupid. We can not count this one.
4. A girlfriend. See dream scenario noted with the '&'
5. A gang/posse. The hardcore ones like in the movies- where all I'd do is snap my fingers and they'd all pop up for my beck and call.
6. A new computer. My video card now is barely capable of keeping up with the violent games I have a tendency to play. A damn shame. And I don't have enough memory to do anything.
7. An awesome social life. Sometimes I wonder what it'd be like if my phone was non stop ringing of people just calling just so they could bask in my presence. Hmm, cut this one too, it'd probably end up more annoying than anything. Really annoying.. God what was I thinking.. Definitely X out this one. As if I have time to care about social standing. But at least I'd feel loved.
8. A memorial or a bridge, or a road or something named after me. Reason? Because I'm that cool.
9. A billion dollars. You know why.
10. A photographic memory. I'd nail tests so bad, and studying would consist looking through textbooks as if they were flip books. Granted, I'm already pretty good in the winging it department, enough to get me through school, but... A lil more wouldn't hurt none.
11. A pet penguin. Just a little one. Cats are cool, but though Mr. Fluffy is in my room more than in Linx's entire apartment, he's more or less, just a waste of mass.
12. To be quoted. Not like, unofficially like, "Yeah, and Lucky said," but officially. As in, 'As Lucky proposed, "The assets of a true porn star is that they would have to have larger than double D jugs," (145, The Great Life of Lucky).
13. A soundtrack of my life. Like, while looking out into the sunset, while pondering about whether or not I should insert important options here . Or like, when I hatch a devious plan or something. Or a contemplative car ride in which it signals a change in my life. But I suppose my theme song would also have a part in this.
14. Some extraordinary talent. Aside from lying and explicit timing (seriously, I used to have this innate thing with showing up at certain places at the exact right/wrong time, depending on the situation), I have nothing. For all I know, I could be a champion duck caller, but I wouldn't know now would I? Oh god, I hope not. What a waste that'd be. Me being in the city and all that.
14. To make out with supposed girlfriend in the heavy rain. Looks damn sexy in the movies.
15. To be in a movie. Not a big, hot shot actor, or someone who gets shot in the first fifteen minutes, just a big enough part so people would recognize who I am, and also to point it out to my future kids and be like, 'Look, daddy could've been a famous sex god, but he chose to live a modest life.'
Now, speaking of #14 and 4 in conjunction with one another, I present to you, the '&':
This is how I'm going to meet my girlfriend. I'll be sitting there, in some... cool.. place.. I don't know where, but it'll be cool. And then I'd be busy with something.. Newspaper perhaps, even though I never read the newspaper, and then I'll turn, and future girlfriend will not watch where she's going, and she'll bump into me. And then she'll be like, 'Oh gosh! I'm so sorry!' And I'll be like, 'No, no, it's cool... Hey, you look really familiar, are you...' And then she'll be like, 'Yeah, I was the July issue centerfold for 'insert some popular guy magazine name here' magazine.' And I'll be like, 'Really? That's what I thought,' And then she'll go, 'Yeah, so what's your name?' And then we'll chat a bit, and then finally she'll just say, 'Listen, for the past five minutes, I just really wanted to jump your bones and rape you.' And then I'll smile and I'll go, 'Well, you're just in luck, I'm feeling up to being raped, but then it wouldn't be called rape, now would it?' And then she'll laugh at my wittiness, and we'll head over to her penthouse apartment uptown. And you know the rest. The end.
I laughed to myself. That was one awesome scenario. Now if only, if only, that could ever-
The blaring of a car horn snapped me back into reality, and with my lighting quick reflexes I threw myself back onto the sidewalk, just avoiding an oncoming SUV. The car held it's horn as it sped away, the obnoxious sound cutting clear through the stillness. With the window rolled down partially, the driver threw out the one finger salute and a few words of praise, no doubt, which were lost under the sound of the horn.
"I fucking had the right of way, you fucking son of a bitch!" I yelled, and showed him my vast knowledge of explicit sign language that would make his lousy middle finger curl and fall off by inferiority, like his dick, which would explain the need for such a needlessly large vehicle.
"Muthafucka can't drive," I muttered, and continued my trudge towards school. Suddenly, I was no longer in a good mood anymore. In fact, I was extremely pissed. So very angry I was.
God, today was going to suck. And do I feel sorry (no I don't) for the first motherbitch to cross my path because if I'm going to have a shitty day, then by god, everybody else should too.
A.N.: So I cut out a lot of things from the original chapter one, things I thought weren't that important, but also things I thought did tell a lot, but hopefully didn't need... You tell me. Other than that, this is probably the only chapter to face a revision like this, since this was the one chapter that bothered me the most.
Anyway, for the readers who've not read this before, I'll leave the same warnings: as this is a character based story, my focus is on making them 3D, so I'm sorry if you've come expecting immediate sexual tension and hanky panky. Go to chapter... I dunno. 17? My god, I suck.