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Life As a Stupid Teenager I finished my Holdenesque paper, modelled after Catcher in the Rye. You know you want to read it. Well here it is (Note: a lot of stuff is exaggerated. Many of the thoughts written weren't real, and just added into the story because I needed more shizznit to fill the page. So don't get mad at me!): I love performing. I mean, there�s nothing wrong with getting a little enjoyment out of something you have to do, right? I love playing with a group and being surrounded by music. So yesterday, I had to perform at some high-class house for some stupid function to raise money. I hated it. I guess it would surprise you, since I said I like performing. But boy, let me tell you! That place was made for phonies. The entire house was filled with the biggest phonies I�d ever seen. You should�ve seen the house! It was probably expensive as hell! Two stories decorated in some fancy multi-shade orange color that would�ve cost a pretty penny to paint. They decorated the inside to match the Halloween theme, when I bet you most of those people don�t even celebrate Halloween. Or maybe it was just an Autumn theme. I don�t know. To tell you the truth, I don�t really care, either. I thought the people were really funny. A lot of the parents there kept talking about how great their children were at their instruments: �My daughter is the principle cellist in FYO. She�s been playing since she was four....� I know that girl. She�s an ugly blonde who sits so high only because her rich mommy and daddy can afford to donate a thousand dollars a year to the goddamn orchestra. Florida Youth Orchestra is made for rich phonies like her. I hate that orchestra. Everyone in there is rich, and I�m not, so I had to actually get in on talent, rather than money. I wish I had as much money as them. But maybe I shouldn�t, because I might turn into big phony bastards like them. Anyway, Alice Kaplun and I played some duet written by some composer. I don�t really know anything about him, except that the he�s dead. When we finished, everyone applauded and wanted to talk to Alice. I�m not surprised, though. People like Alice always get attention from those kinds of phonies, just because she�s the top flutist in the state. No one notices me, the mediocre flutist who so happens to share a name similar to that girl. To tell you the truth, she�s wonderful on the flute, but she�s absolutely terrible in music theory; I�m the one that excels in that. Just because she�s some fabulous flutist, and performs everywhere for a bunch of rich bastards, they think she would be good at music theory. But she�s not. Se often has to ask me to give her the answers or to explain things for her. But, to tell you the truth, I like her. She�s really funny, even though I�m shadowed by her in performances. Today, I went to Pioneer�s house. We watched The Brave Little Toaster on video. He actually owns that video! That killed me! I hadn�t seen that move since I was a little kid. I thought it was cute. My favorite character is Blankie, the little heat blanket that tries to get back home to his master. He�s the cutest thing I�d ever seen. But let me tell you, his father is such a phony bastard. He�s meaner than my dad � and that�s saying something, let me tell you. He thinks he�s some kind of cowboy, and can often be found screaming, �Yeehaw,� randomly. And to the public, he is always friendly in a weird way. He shakes everyone�s hands, and greets them with something like, �Hello, sister!� or something like that. Many of the people who meet him think of him as such a kind, old man, though weird as hell, but to the people who know better, he�s just weird. To tell you the truth, I don�t just think he�s weird. I can�t stand him. He once made Pioneer drink some kind of vegetable juice that he made himself. It was real gross too. He put carrots, celery, red lettuce, onions, and lemon juice in it. He says that it improves eyesight, and has been telling it to anyone who will listen. He�s such a phony. Everyone knows it�s the keratin in carrots that improves eyesight, not the rest of the vegetables. Why the hell would you put onions in vegetable juice? You�re not supposed to do that! It�s nasty! I feel sorry for Pioneer. He�s such a nice boy, and he�s stuck with such an eccentric man every single day of his goddamn life. Anyway, we had Chinese food at Pioneer�s, and played a few rounds of pool. I whooped his butt in pool. I told him that I�ve been playing pool since I was four, and I could have been state champion, let me tell you, but I decided to quit because I didn�t want the fame. To tell you the truth, I don�t know why I lied to him. He knows damn well I�m terrible at pool. He�s just worse. Then we went in the lake behind his house and sunbathed for a half an hour or so. But his father got mad, because he said that we didn�t spend enough time in the sun. He gets mad over the dumbest things! There�s no sun out anymore, since fall is coming around, so what�s the point in sunbathing? Anyway, Pioneer went to go take a shower. I was going to watch TV until he got out so I could take mine, but I suppose his father thought I�d sneak in the bathroom while he wasn�t looking or something, so he made me chop vegetables. To tell you the truth, it wouldn�t�ve crossed my mind, except to pour cold water over the top of the shower curtain. Pi did that to me once. I nearly killed him, but I didn�t want to get out of the shower while he was still there. But I love that goddamn kid. I know it sounds corny, but that�s how I feel. After my shower, we watched some more TV until his dad took me home. Pi called me about twenty minutes ago and told me that his father was mad as hell because we didn�t spend enough time outside. That killed me! Talk about stupid reasons to be upset. I�d be upset if I stubbed my toe on a chair, or if I forgot to do a homework assignment for English. But he got mad because people didn�t stay outside long enough? That�s funny as hell. That�s just plain funny. When I got home, my dad was mad because he said we don�t go to church enough. I don�t see why he�d get mad though! The only time he ever sets foot inside of the church is for political reasons. My dad is the president of the Democratic Club, so he�s endorsing some phony bastard named Kerry (but I supposed he�s better than the stupid phony bastard named Bush. I�d rather be a phony bastard than a stupid phony bastard). Today, he went and met with Hilary Clinton to gather some ideas about how to win the election. They�re all fake as hell. My dad says he has to go to church because he believes in God, and that we have to praise Him and whatnot, but then he goes so that he can make money off of the winners of the election. You�re not supposed to go to church to make money! You go to thank Him for supplying the money! I think my dad is the biggest phony of them all. I think that my weekend was pretty good, though. I got to do things that I love to do, even though I had to associate with a bunch of phonies, no matter where I went. I think that as long as I live, I will never be able to shut out the phonies in my life. They will forever surround me, no matter where I turn. It�s okay, though, as long as I have someone at my side that will keep me grounded to my reality, as twisted as it is. I know you liked my story. The part about Alice and my performance is true, but the rest ain't. I'm goin' to Pi's tomorrow, so I'll update you on that later. |