My Depressing Life

[DeathScape]

I made this story when I was only thirteen (13) years old, but I just never ended up posting it until now.




Chapter 1: Welcome To My Life

Why am I here? What am I doing here? What is this place people call the “world?” Why can I only achieve the goals that I don’t want to achieve? Who created me? Why am I asking myself all these questions when I’ve known them for a long time?
Yes, that is right. I know why I am here, I know what I am doing here, I know what this place people call the “world” is, I know who created me, I know why I am asking myself all these questions. It is all very simple, you see. I am not supposed to be here. I am on a sidewalk with my lip torn open because I am not supposed to be here. I know what the world is, it is a lie full of lies and other disastrous things, I know why I cannot achieve the things I want, but I can achieve the things I don’t want, it is because God loves to see me suffer in misery for his own pleasure, I know that God created me for his own sick pleasure, and I know why I am asking myself all these questions… It is because I want a different answer, but every time I ask myself these simple questions, I always end up getting the same questions.
Life is full of crappy mysteries that I am too impatient to find. Why is learning from your mistakes fun? I don’t see anything fun about it; it is just another way to be hurt in any kind of way, but I guess I’ll never know that answer because I have no friends. Wait, I have friends, but they are not really my friends; I just call them that because it makes me feel a little better, but I have no emotions whatsoever, so I don’t know why it bothers me… Ah, the mysteries of life, the mysteries of life.
You see, the world is a gift that you cannot return or stop playing. If my real father buys me a videogame that I do not like because it is stupid, boring, kiddy, or something similar to a trait that I dislike, I can stop playing that videogame, and I do not have to ever play it again, but for the real world, it is different. I do not like the game I have been playing currently for thirteen long years, and I am tired of it, but I can’t stop playing it because my God has put a magic helmet on me, and he will not allow me to take it off. I am trying to take it off, but it is glued onto my head. I think he used superglue when he glued this magic helmet onto my head because it is almost impossible to get off.
I will continue complaining about how much I hate life later, but right now I want to ask you a question: Why do you think I am sitting on a sidewalk with my lip cut open? The answer lies within my brain, but I am trying not to remember it. I am trying to make myself forget, but I cannot forget. You see, my friend hit me in the lip with a pipe because he thought he would be “cool” if he did it in front of a bunch of eight graders. He is a seventh grade loser, and yet he expects to be accepted into the popular eight grade group. That does not make sense to me even if they were the seventh grade popular group.
When the eight graders saw my friend, Mark, hit me in the lip with a pipe, they just simply smiled and strolled towards an ice-cream shop. I saw my friend, Mark, jolt towards them so he could speak to them and act tough, but I did not see what he did because I was holding my lip because it was bleeding very badly. I will not see my doctor, though, because he hates me because he thinks I always take his toothpaste for some reason. I don’t know why he does. I come in and count the twelve packs of toothpaste, and when I leave, there are still twelve packs of toothpaste. I am not a genius, but I can count very well, and I know that there were still twelve packs of toothpaste. Oh well, I never liked him anyways. He is crazy.
You are probably wonder when I will stop fretting about my life and go on about my day, but my day is boring. Trust me, you do not want to hear my day because everyone hates me, and I hate everyone else. That is not true actually; I always tend to lie to myself when I don’t want to admit the truth. I actually don’t hate everyone. There is a girl I might have feelings towards, but I really only have the emotions hate, sadness, guilt, angriness, and other negative emotions. Can someone like me really “love?” I don’t want to admit this to myself, but I think I might actually… “love” her… If that is even possible.
I don’t know what I should do now. I really don’t know… If I go home, my mom will ask me a bunch of questions, and I don’t like her getting involved in my “fake” social life. My dad won’t care… I never talk to him… Ever… He is just there, I suppose. He never offers to play catch with me either. He is just around places, and he does things. He doesn’t drink or smoke a lot, and I know he would never cheat on my mom because he loves her… a little… I wouldn’t say a lot, but he just isn’t “sexually active” with women… like me.
I really do not like to discuss my parents at all, even if it is with a relative, or a fake friend. I just end up getting into personal business that is better left unsaid.
I don’t know what I am really talking about anymore. I guess it is just random thoughts about my perspectives about life. It sucks. Those are harsh words from a… mean guy… Okay, I guess it fits.
Am I mean? Can you please read the rest of my story and tell me? Have you even opened this book yet? Please tell me, I am so lost… I feel unwanted, and I always think about committing suicide… Maybe I should, but then I think about the life afterwards… What is it like? I don’t know what it is like afterwards, and I do not really want to find out, but I cannot disappear into dust and float away… My soul remains forever in one specific spot! I will try my best to be a good person and attempt to be “nice,” but I just don’t see Heaven in my sight… It is fading away each day in my dreams.
So what is my name, do you ask? Do you really want to know? I don’t think you do… You don’t want to know, right? Should I tell you? Maybe I should, but then again, maybe I should not. I am thinking about this at this very moment. Okay, I will tell you my name, but you have to promise not to make fun of it. It is Joshua Sython Zammington.
Stop laughing; it’s not that funny. It is better than a name like Mike Rotch, Jack Meoff, or Gay Lord Focker. I wish I could change my name to “Vexx,” but that is illegal. And also remember that my name is not “Joshua.” Well, it may be Joshua, but everyone calls me “Josh.” I know everyone hates me, but that is what they call me if they need to kick my ass, give me a swirly, give me a wedgie, or put paint down my paints. Yes, but sometimes they replace my names with unnecessary cuss words. I do use these words sometimes, but using them daily is just stupid. I don’t know why people do it anyways. Well, I am lying again. I am sorry to report this, but when something bad happens, I do tend to cuss under my breath. But then again, I am alive… Why am I not cussing?
Maybe I do like life, but I am afraid to admit it. Maybe I can ask the girl I like out on a date, but I know she’ll scoff at me, and call me a mean name. But I can’t help myself, her blonde hair that curls over her hazel eyes just appeal to me so much. She is cute, and I often tend to stare at her in every class… I need to get her out of my system because I know I will just get hurt… Wait a minute; I don’t have the emotion called “love,” right? Well, Maybe I do… I have never said that I might love a little before even though I talk about this girl in my mind everyday.
Okay, so God did give me one “happy” emotion, but it is not happy. I hate the emotion called “love” because you love someone, and then an unfortunate accident always happens to them, or they break up with you, so what is the point of loving anyways? Should I love?
I know right now you might be saying that I am ungrateful for food, water, shelter, and fun activities, but I am not. It’s like videogames; if one videogame offers only one weapon, and that is a sniper, I’ll buy the game because I only use snipers anyways. But if there is a game with every single gun in the world, plus more, then I will not buy the videogame even if it does have thousands of guns because it does not offer me the one thing I want. Sure, it offers me rifles, rocket launchers, swords, beams, and other cool gadgets like that, but if it does not have the true thing that I want, then I will buy the videogame with only the sniper instead because I like snipers. It is just like life. I may have tons of things that people want, but I would rather live in a horrible, scant part of the country like Africa, as long as I have Jane. Yeah, I could manage without the movies, videogames, board games, books, music, instruments, and other fun accessories like that as long as I have Jane. Yeah, Jane is all you need to have a perfect life, like snipers are all you need to have a perfect videogame.
And why is being different so bad? People make fun of homosexuals for something they cannot control, but what if the men that were actually making fun of the homosexual were actually homosexuals themselves, because there is really an entire different gender out there called “dejas?” So you are supposed to believe in what you believe, but if you are homosexual you are going to go to Hell? I am not a homosexual; I am just wondering how that makes sense… But then again, does the world make sense?
How come I can’t hate certain people or things? If I say I hate God-which I do not of course-I am in trouble? People are going to try to enforce their beliefs on me? Why would they do that? I thought that I was supposed to believe in whatever I believed, but I guess that isn’t true.
Is there really a difference between right or wrong, or do we just want there to be? How come swearing, raping, and killing are wrong? I do not do any of those things, but who is to decide what they are?

 

[DeathScape]

This might be disgusting, but it is a good example. If there was a young women that was depressed because she had never experienced sex, and a man felt sorry for her, so he decided to make love to her. Would that be wrong? I mean, the man just wanted to make the women happy, but that is wrong because this so called “God” views sex in a different way than I do.
And thinking that girls are “hot” is wrong? But why? You cannot control your teenage hormones… I do find some girls in my grade rather good looking to be honest, though, but Jane beats all of them by a land-slot. That is what people say all the time, right? Or is it something different?
Sometimes people can’t cope with nothing after life, so they begin to make up alternatives, and sometimes they know they are lying to themselves, but they are too frightened to explore their imagination and find the real truth. Don’t be afraid to think.
When you were little, and you got presents out of the middle of nowhere, where did you think they came from? Santa Clause, but he ended up not being real, but there was no other explanation for it, so you just assumed he was real, when all along he was just another phony.
I am not Atheist, but is it really a person’s fault for choosing the wrong religion? Just because some guy has some book that is from the year 0 B.C., doesn’t necessarily mean that it is true. And if it is, then how come we go to Hell because we believe in something different than other people? How are they supposed to know? They could say that there are two or more Gods, but if they are wrong, then they go to Hell because they did not believe the fad that everyone else believed in.
Why are people so afraid to open up their minds and think outside the box? The people who believe in God just because everyone else does do not really believe in God because they have not read any of the evidence there, and that evidence could indeed be incorrect.
I also hate it when people say that all their problems were solved by praying to God and stuff. They are completely wrong. That man who became a priest did not lose weight because he prayed to God; he lost weight because he found a diet that worked. That woman in church did not get sleep by praying to God; she took certain pills that her doctor suggested, and it caused her to sleep without trouble. That male, N.B.A. player that is donating money to the poor did not become good at basketball by praying to God; he got good at basketball by actually practicing the sport! But they all serve God in a different way because they think he actually helped him.
That depressed, thirteen year old boy prayed to God when he was younger, but he still found the horrible things in life. He never got a friend by praying to God, and practicing, taking pills, and taking a diet will not help him get friends. There is nothing that can let him get friends, and he wishes that he had any other problems rather than the problem he is having right now. Who is that boy do you ask? It is me. Who else would it be? No one else feels the way I do, and no one ever will…
And this thing called “life” is stupid. Okay, so people don’t want to lie and call it “the happiest place ever,” so they give it a fake name like “life.” I have a better name for it; how about “the worst place ever. There is nothing worse or horrible than this place.” That would really be a better name for this… place that people are put upon.
You people are all brainwashed to believe what high political figures, super models, actors, and other cool, “teen fads” like that. You don’t actually enjoy doing all the stuff a Teen Magazine tells you to do, do you? Because if you do, then I have no respect for you whatsoever. But it is not like you care what I think anyways, because you hate me. Everyone hates me, so it doesn’t matter if I have respect for you or not, right?
I just wish that everyone would stop following the crowd and fads like that. And yes, that includes the two most important things to anyone; religion and politics. I have no problem if you don’t believe a young man walking on water; I’m sure I wouldn’t either if no one else did, but since probably over a billion people believe that a certain “savior” did, I guess I do as well. I do… Oh wait; I’m a hypocrite now, right? Dang it!
So when you jot a young boy down in some place with no friends, hope, dignity, positive emotions, talent, or other good things like that, do you really expect him to be happy? What is so bad about being depressed? Does that make me “emo.” Well, let me tell you something; there is nothing wrong with being an emo. Just because people don’t feel good about themselves, doesn’t mean you should hate them.
Of course I can’t amount to anything, and people have to rub it in my face. People only pretend to care about me so their God does not punish them. I know that Mrs. Batella only cheered me up that one time I got a zero percent on my test because God would be angry if she didn’t. Thank you, God, but it is okay… But you could make my life a little better… I got a suggestion that you might want to take… how about making Jane like me…? But unfortunately, I do not believe that something that extraordinary is possible…
I keep mentioning this girl that you have never heard, seen, smelled, tasted, or felt before. I cannot let you do any of those five senses to her, but I can explain to you how cute and nice and smart and gallant and cool and vivid and- I will stop now. I will begin by telling you her name, how about? Yes, I will tell you her name. Her name is “Jane.” It is four letters and it starts with a capital “J.” That is exactly what my name contains! How ironic… Are we meant to be? No, I am meant to suffer on this horrible world, correct? That is why I am here, right? Should I love? Should I? Will somebody tell me why I am here? I am referring to the real reason; not the fake reason that I tell myself everyday. Will somebody out there please help me?
I cannot say much more than “welcome to my life…”

 

[DeathScape]

Chapter 2: The Weekend Is Over

I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care that the weekend is over, I don’t do anything anyways besides talk to myself, and I do that in school anyways, except it takes place in a different scenario. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care…
It's 8:45 in the morning, and we start our classes at 9:00 in the morning, so I don’t know what I should do with the remaining fifteen minutes besides think. I could do my homework, I could socialize with the other kids, or I could listen to the radio that is in the corner of our classroom, but I will choose to sit down in my seat, with my head on my desk, and my hands folded on my desk, and I will place my hands in front of my head.
Why isn’t our teacher here? I would ask this question out loud, but nobody likes me, so nobody will answer. Instead of answering my question, they will come back with a sneering remark that contains horrible swear words.
Awhile has passed now, and it is now 9:05… Where is our teacher? I don’t care if a car hits her, she chokes on a stick, or she burns to death in fire because she hates me. Everyone hates me, though, so I shouldn’t have to say this statement. Maybe something cool happened to her; like she got abducted by aliens or something totally outlandish like that! That is not true of course. The reason I know it is not true is because I am not that lucky. God hates me; how could I be that lucky.
Does God really love everyone? I’ve heard he does, but I am uncertain… I hope he loves me, but I don’t know what I would say if he asked me if I loved him. That is what scares me… When I reach the gates of heaven to be accepted or denied, will God ask me this question? Please God, you can ask me any question except that one! Ask me to rename our entire history, ask me to write pi in one second flat, or ask me to write a googolplex sentences in one second; I don’t care! Just don’t ask me that question… Please God, I do not know how to answer that question.
I will begin to fantasy a master plan at the end of the school year. How about I get two pigs and put a label on one of them saying “Pig Number One,” and then I label the other one as “Pig Number Three.” I will release them in our school and let them run around and let them destroy everything, and then when they catch pig number one and pig number three, they will assume that there is a pig number two because that is the number that comes between one and three. I do not believe anyone in my grade will be smart enough to realize that there is no pig number two, but there might be someone smart enough in eighth grade or the other grades to realize that there is no pig number two and then I will probably end up being found out by someone, and then I will have to do something huge for the school that I will probably not wish to do. Maybe I will do it, though… I have a lot of time to think about this, though, so I will just think about something else…
Our teacher has just arrived in the classroom, so I am forced to put a nice, wide smile on my face while she goes on about something I do not even care about. What subject do I even have first? I have been to this school for eight years straight; shouldn’t I know the answer to this question?
“Children, do any of you know what today is?” our teacher, Mrs. Batella asks us.
One of my fellow classmates-by the name of David-raises his hand in unison with my beloved Jane.
David, don’t get me wrong. I know you have no feelings at all for this girl, and that this raising hand in unison thing was just a coincidence, but I still want to hurt you very badly for doing this, even if you do not even know who she is, but you do, therefore I am becoming suspicious. I am wondering if I should do more than “hurt you very badly,” and instead kill you, but that might be a little extreme… But what isn’t these days?
“David,” Mrs. Batella calls out.
“I believe today is Columbus Day, correct?” David answers with a straight face.
“Yes, very good, David,” Mrs. Batella says.
Mrs. Batella, I need to interrupt your class to tell you that I would have known that question if I truly cared, but I don’t, so I don’t stand a chance, so why would you ask that question. Oh wait, never mind… I know the answer; you hate me. Is that the correct answer?
I will stop talking to myself now and look at the expression of Jane’s face. Yes, I knew it, she is looking at David’s sexy eyes, but David is staring at some awkward object that is probably good for nothing.
I turn my head to see Alex, a popular jock, turn his head to look at Jane’s eyes. Yes, he is disgruntled to see Jane peering into a loser’s eyes more than half a second long because it is just abnormal to do so in our dumb school.
Mrs. Batella begins to go on her with her lesson even though I am not paying attention. I am just thinking about Jane again. I think I will finally pull my move, but I don’t want to act to eager, but I don’t want to be frightened by girls for the rest of my life. They are human beings just like you and me, but I am a “different” human being… I am an unwanted human being, so things are different for me; therefore it makes it even harder to go out with a girl than normally.
While I am pondering about love and life, someone is stabbing me in the arm with their pen, trying to get my attention obviously. I suppose I will turn to the person who sits directly to the left of me so he can say something cruel to me.
“Pay attention, asshole,” says my classmate right next to me, Jason.
I look up at the teacher, but the fact that Jane was looking at a loser got in my way. She peered into a loser’s eyes romantically for more than five seconds long. If David could do it, I knew I should better at least give it a shot, even though I will probably fail and cry myself to sleep for a year.
I have to stop thinking about this thought because Mrs. Batella is so angry that she has smacked my desk with a long yardstick.
“What is agitating you,” I question her. But I only said that sentence to seem intelligent. I should’ve thought that move out; it sounded completely stupid. I would glance at Jane to see the expression on her face, but Mrs. Batella’s red cheeks seem to be in my focus.
Mrs. Batella is looking down on the ground for some reason, and I don’t choose to look down to see what she is looking at until Jason gives me another unfriendly stab in my right arm.
I guess I will choose to look down now, even though I do not want to look down. I look down. Under my desk to find that I am stepping on her diamond… The diamond is also broken. I don’t think I could’ve broken a tiny, but yet strong thing like this with my weak foot. No, it was probably broken already by one of the popular jocks, but they placed it under my desk so it would look as if I did it. This is not a statement that could be true or false. This is a fact, and I know it is the truth because they hate me. It is as simple as that.
“Joshua Sython Zammington! Report to the principle’s office this instant!” she shouts angrily.
I probably should do what she says because someone one day decided that teachers have more powers over children, but I don't move. I know she is very mad as well because no one ever saws my full name unless I am doing something really bad. Ever. Well, my parents tend to call me by my full name a lot because they are always mad at me for some reason.
“No,” I say. But the words startle me. Did I just say “no” to a teacher? Man, am I in for it now! Especially when the teacher just so happens to be the meanest teacher in the entire school; Mrs. Batella.
Mrs. Batella surprisingly doesn’t slap me, and she gets rid of her red cheeks instead.
I do not know what is happening, but I like it a lot! Maybe right now would be perfect time to tell her that she is such an ungrateful bitch. You get paid a lot of money, Mrs. Batella-the most in our whole school! Yes, I know it is a little odd that a kid knows that-and yet you still get mad at people everyday for doing things. You even got mad at Alex (A.K.A.: Mr. Popular) for using his calculator when the problem contained six different numbers, all with over seven digits, and all had a fraction! That isn’t hard; I mean, she could’ve doubled the numbers and added twelve, I suppose, but I suck at Math, so I don’t know why I am saying this, and I hate Alex, so I don’t know why I am defending him, but no one can possibly solve that problem without a calculator… unless you are a genius at using mental math.
Maybe Mrs. Batella has finally learned her lesson, and she won’t be so mean anymore. Maybe can sometimes be an overused word, and a very powerful as well, but I hope this maybe is true because I am really sick of hearing Mrs. Batella yelling at everyone-even the people I hate-when something unfortunate happens. It's not always their fault, but she likes to be a dip shit and assume it is their fault because that is the person Mrs. Batella is.
I still don’t know why Mrs. Batella hasn’t said anything to me yet; she just looks like one of those kind people you see from television shows that are made for children, but she is the exact opposite of that, to be honest. Yes, Mrs. Batella, I hate you, and you hate me, but you can't make me go away in any kind of way. I am doomed to stay here for the two years that I have left here, whether you like it or you hate it. I will remain at this school for the last two years because my parents make me go to this stupid school that I hate. If I am incorrect about this, please notify me now so I can gladly depart from this Hellhole. You see, Mrs. Batella, life isn’t fair, and there is not anything you can do about it, so you better just suck it up, and get used to it because remember; there is nothing you can do about it.
“Josh, get your backpack, books, pencil case, and your other belongings together. You are expelled from this school, forever. Goodbye!” Mrs. Batella cheerfully exclaims.
I guess I was wrong.

 

[DeathScape]

Chapter 3: Telling My Parents

It is not easy to tell your pants that you are suspended from school. You see, parents like to be bitches about crap like this, even though they could just send their child to a different school easily. But they love to make big deals about things just because they are bored. Well, at least my parents do.
Right now, I am drifting away from my house, and then sauntering back to the door of my house. I am doing this because I know that my parents will punish me very badly for getting expelled from school, and my life is as bad as it is.
I am still wondering if I should just walk around the neighborhood for awhile, and then tell my parents a good-but fake-explanation later, but I know they will somehow just figure out my lie… They can sense someone lying from a mile away. Either that, or I just suck at lying, and they really aren’t good at catching people who lie.
Well, I suppose I better walk my six steps that leads to the door of my house and walk inside to face my parents. So I did it without another moment’s hesitation.
“Mom, I’m ho—”
“Josh!” my mom stifles me. “Josh, I heard about the news! I just got off the phone with Mrs. Smike, and she said that her son, Paul, was really the one who placed the diamond under your desk! Not you, baby.”
I was a little bit perplexed when she said this. You see, I expected her to not believe anything, and for her to get off the phone with the principal right when I walked in the door, and I also expected her to yell at me a lot, and maybe even lose her mind, and slap me, but she didn’t.
“Sweetie, you are going to go back to school tomorrow, after we sort this thing out,” my mom says after I refuse to say anything for a short period of time.
“S-S-So Paul is going to get expelled instead of me?” I question. I really, really, really, really, really, REALLY did not want Paul to get expelled instead of me because he was a popular jock, and everyone would kick my ass for getting the “cool kid” expelled from their school! Actually, they would just kick my ass harder than they did before, and then probably light it on fire so I can burn to death.
My mom nods, and my stomach growls. “Until then, are you hungry?”
I did not answer. I didn’t want to answer. First of all, how would Mrs. Smike know about the diamond in the first place? The school day wasn’t even over yet, so Paul could not come home and tell her. Second of all, why would Paul tell his mom? I would think Paul would be a little bit smarter than to tell his mom because he knows his mom is a sweetheart that loves to be honest and nice. And third of all, Paul was not even at school today. I thought he was sick or something, but he probably just ditched school and went downtown to get stoned or drunk.
“Josh?” my mom says. She wants me to give her an answer to her question, and that is why she says that with a questioning voice.
“Uhhh, no, mom, I’m fine,” I answer finally
“Okay, doll, but if you want anything, then feel free to holler,” she reports with a smile on her face.
Mom, I probably will never eat again, so this would be a great time to stuff myself with a lot of junk food that is not good for me. If you are wondering why I will never eat again, it is because the popular jocks at my school will probably murder me for ratting out Paul, even though his mom was really the one who ratted him out. At any other time in life, I would probably want to some food to eat, but I am more depressed than usual right now to even think about food, drinks, drinking, or eating. Although I am still rather hungry, and that is why my stomach has growled yet again.
My mom is staring at me right now because she knows I am hungry because my stomach has growled, but I will say something totally irrelevant to anything about eating that she will forget that I am hungry… I hope. “Mom, where is my dear, dear father? I never talk like that, but I suppose it will put a grin on her face, so that is why I said that.
She does end up grinning, but she doesn’t give me a good answer. “Out,” she says.
Mom, that is a horrible answer. Of course he is “out.” If he is not here, where else would he be? Mom, why are starting to cry? Is it because you hate me, and you don’t want me here, and you want me to die instead? Is that it?
“He… may not be here for quite awhile,” my mom manages to say.
I am about to ask her why, but I know she’ll just become more upset, and it is bad enough that she’ll have a dead son by tomorrow… Oh wait, that is a good thing.
I don’t know what to do right now. It is a very awkward moment and all, so I believe I will just walk up my stairs and go into my room to play with nothing. So that is exactly what I do.
I am now up in my room, but I really don’t want to play with anything. My Nintendo Gamecube is broken, my Playstation 2 is lost and I cannot find it, and all my games on my Xbox suck so badly that it is not even funny. Maybe I should just watch television, but television usually never has anything good on, and I just find sports television shows to repetitive, boring, and tedious. Nothing new happens in them, but yet everyone feels the need to bet on them and watch them for some reason. Watch twelve hyenas hump each other; trust me, it is much more interesting…
After a couple of hours pass, it is now lunchtime at our school. It is 12:40 in other words. My mom calls me done because someone has called me, and that is the first time someone has called me in several years… besides all the “hate” calls, and the other calls that were only meant for business or something like that. Maybe this call will be just like those calls, but everyone is at school and I have not ordered anything.
I run downstairs to pick up the phone. I hold it up to my mouth and say, “Hello?”
“Hello indeed,” a familiar voice says. “Josh, we apologize for the inconvenience, and we just want to let you know that your mother and Mrs. Smike have called us to inform us that you did not do the horrible deed in Mrs. Batella’s classroom.”
I now know that it is my principal from my school, but I do not know how to a respond to our principal’s statement. So I just ask this: “So am I like, going back to school tomorrow, or something like that?”
I hear some breathing and I know that my principal is deciding what to say. “Well, you can come back to school now if you choose to, but the decision is up to you.”
I don’t want to go to school, period, but I know I have to go to school no matter what. I decide whether or not to deal with the popular jocks today or tomorrow, and I decide on my answer very quickly. “I think I’ll go back to school tomorrow… Thanks.”
“No problem at all. If you need us to do anything to make up for our horrible mistake, then please notify us at anytime,” my principal remarks.
Well, you could kill Mrs. Batella and everyone else in our school except Jane Dalk and Jo- …Actually, please kill everyone except Jane Dalk. Of course I am not going to say this to the person who runs my school because I know that she will refuse this offer even though she said I could have the school do anything I wanted at anytime, but I guess people expect people to say, “No thanks,” nowadays.
“Josh?” my principal says into the phone to make sure that I am still there.
“No, that is alright, Mrs. Junt, but thank you for the offer anyways,” I reply with a nice and sweet tone in my very low voice. Well, my voice isn’t that low, but it will get low as I age!
“Thank you, Joshua Sython Zammington for understanding this matter. We will be happy to see you in school by tomorrow,” Mrs. Junt, my school principal, says.
I begin to say, “Yeah, you too,” but she hangs up the phone before I can get another word in.
My mother strolls into the kitchen, where I picked up the phone at, and the room that I am currently in, and questions me. “Who was that? What did they want? When did they ge—”
“Mom!” I exclaim. I always hate when my mother feels the need to ask me a million questions at once, but this time I stifled her before she even asked a third question.
“Sorry, baby,” my mother responds.
Since she didn’t say anything else, I figured I owed her an explanation. “That was our school principal, Mrs. Junt, and she just wanted to say that you and Mrs. Smike sorted everything out, and that I will go back to school tomorrow.”
My mom smiles as if she has planned the whole thing, even though I think she has, considering I think Mrs. Smike would defend her own son more, even if she truly is a saint.
“Well, I guess you better pack up your stuff and do your homework because your old school awaits you!” my mom exclaims.
I think I will take that offer, Mrs. Junt.

 

[DeathScape]

Chapter 4: An Unexpected Visitor


“Get up… now!” a familiar voice demands. “You aren’t expelled anymore, remember?
I know knew that this voice belonged to my mom, and she was tugging me out of bed once again. I really didn’t feel like getting my ass kicked at school today, and I stayed up very late last night because I kept thinking about getting hurt by the popular jocks at my school.
“Josh! Come on!” my mom hollers.
I decided to take it slowly. I placed me left leg on the ground, while the rest of my body was still in the bed, and then I tried to make my left arm follow my left leg to the ground, but it didn’t work, and I ended up toppling onto the ground.
“Good, now go get dressed!” my mother commands.
I put on a nice, white shirt with short sleeves, and I threw on some red shorts. I guess I looked alright, but I did not really care for appearances, even though I thought Jane Dalk was the most beautiful person in the world. I pondered whether or not to put on a hat so I could wear it low, and then nobody recognized me, but I thought that was stupid, and I would just end up being found out once I reached my assigned desk and seat anyways, so there was really no point.
I heard a loud noise, and it turned out to be my doorbell ringing. I went downstairs to answer the door, and I saw to my amazement that Paul Smike was at my door with his mother, Mrs. Smike. I felt very uncomfortable and I hoped Paul Smike would end up talking… I am really bad at talking to adults. I can ever talk to popular jocks better than the way I can talk to adults.
Paul took a deep gulp, swallowed, and the finally said something with a slight hesitation. “Josh…” he begins. “I… I really want to apologize for being so cruel to you, and I’ll never do it again.” His mother nudged him, and I knew she wanted him to keep going on. “…And you are welcome to come over to my house anytime if you want.”
Paul Smike, don’t get me wrong, I know this is an apology, but you are only saying this because your mom forced you to apologize. You don’t like me, you hate me, but your mom loves to act like a saint, and that is the reason why you are at my doorstep right now. It’s not because you like me; it’s only because your mom made you do it.
“Tha-Thanks,” I manage to say.
When I looked at Mrs. Smike, she just put on a wide smile, and Paul just sort of stood there and pretended to be focused on the chandelier in our house. I felt so awkward, and I wish they would just leave now, but they sort of just stood there for awhile. Oblivious to what I should do, I closed the door on them.
“Who was that?” my moms questions.
“That was the Smikes; Paul just came over to apologize for trying to get me into trouble,” I answer.
“Well, let them in!” my mom demands.
So I open the door, and the two human beings grin because they don’t know what to do, and then they just stand there again. I would think they would be gone by now, considering I had the door closed for almost over ten seconds.
“Would you like to come in our house?” my mom offers kindly.
“Oh, why I would love to,” Mrs. Smike answers.
I knew Paul did not like this one bit, and he really wanted to go, but he had to just stand there because his mom was now in our living room, having tea with my mother.
“Josh,” Paul begins. I start to look at him, but since he doesn’t go on, I refuse to keep staring at him. I still wait awhile, but I guess he just couldn’t apologize to a loser like me. I understand that of course. It sometimes seemed as if he only gave losers a hard time so he would be accepted into his popular jock group, and that was just stupid, but he was only human. I could understand why he did it. Maybe he really did mean his apology, but that seemed highly unlikely, but it is a possibility.
“Josh!” my mother exclaims from the living room. “I just got a phone call from Mrs. Junt, and she said that school is cancelled today because of conferences. Were you supposed to bring a note home to confirm this?”
Although my mom asked me a rhetorical question, I still choose to answer this. “Errr… Yeah, it must have been in like, my folder, and I guess I just forgot to turn it in somehow.”
I saw Paul giggle, but he covered it up by putting his mouth to his lips. There was nothing funny about my statement, so I don’t know why he laughed, but I guess I had to let him in now, since we didn’t have school today anyways.
“Paul, would you like to come inside my house?” I ask with slight croak in my voice.
Without saying anything, Paul walks into my house and just stands there like he did outside.
Paul, stop being so stupid; you can gorge yourself with food, play games on my crappy Xbox, you can watch a movie, listen to music, or do other things that human beings call “fun,” but please don’t make me feel so awkward by standing in the middle of the hallway to my house, putting your hands by your side and doing nothing. Please do something this instance!
“Nice lamp,” Paul remarks the stupid remark I have ever heard in my life. Paul, I have now seen your soft side, and I know you were just trying to be nice by complimenting me on how one of the objects in my house is very ornate, but you chose the worst object. You could’ve said the rug, you could’ve said the chandelier, you could’ve said the table, you could’ve said the chair, but you chose to compliment the crappiest object in our house. For crying out loud, the damn lamp is broken! It hasn’t shined in years, but my mom just keeps it there because it was the last thing her mom gave her before she died. I’m sorry Paul, you are the most likable popular jock in our grade, but you are a freaking idiot.
I will say something to show my gratitude, though, even though I really think you could’ve put much more effort into a compliment. “Thank you.” That wasn’t that hard to say, but it still did take some effort to say to a popular jock like Paul Smike.
Paul looked down at the ground because I know he is too frightened to look into my eyes because I am a loser, but he does look in my eyes, and you know what? I can tell he actually smiled from instinct. He didn’t smile because that is what his mom wanted him to do, he didn’t smile because of the beautiful picture in front of him, and he didn’t smile because he was trying to be a saint like his mom; no, he smiled because it was too hard for him not to. That was the most surprisingly thing in my life, honestly. I could not get over it.
“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to want to see a… a mo-movie on Friday, would you?” Paul questions.
I scratch my chin to seem intelligent, but then I realize that I look like a total moron. “With you?”
Paul takes a huge gulp and manages to answer me. “Well, yes…” Although the “yes” was very silent, I still could hear his answer.
Paul Smike, why are you doing this? Is your mom making you do this? I do not want you to take me to a movie if you do not to take me to a movie. I know you will just hurt me there if your popular jock friends are there anyways, or maybe you’ll make new friends by then because you go to a different school now.
I stop debating whether or not he is trying to trick me into a trap or not and finally answer him. “Yeah, sure… Why not?”
“Okay, cool,” he says. “Today is like what, Monday?”
Wow, Paul Smike. You truly are the dumbest popular jock in the whole history of mankind. Don’t you know yesterday we had school, and you did something so horrible to me that you got expelled from school, and the only reason you are here is to apologize for the trouble you caused yesterday? School starts on Monday, so wouldn’t you assume it is at least past that day? Monday was the day you humiliated me; today is Tuesday, you fool.
I do not say this out loud of course because he is being very nice to me, and I am not even sure if he is doing it under his mom’s command or not anymore. So instead of saying that statement, I just say, “No, tomorrow is Tuesday.”
“Oh yeah… I guess I forgot,” Paul responds.
Paul, you are still standing in the hall of my house with me, and we are talking, so don’t you think it would be more logical if we sat down? That is what most people do when they want to talk, and we have been communicating for quite awhile now. I don’t know how these things work in the real world. I haven’t had somebody my age come over to my house in years, so I am not sure if it is rude or not to ask you to sit down. I don’t think it is, but there is a whole book of manners that I have no read yet, and I probably never will, so I am uncertain what to do.
“Paul!” Mrs. Smike calls. She saunters into the same room Paul and I are in. “Come on now, you still have school today.”
“What!?” Paul roars. “But I don’t want to go! This new school is going to suck.”
“I am sure you’ll make tons of new friends. Now come on now, let’s go,” Mrs. Smike replies.
“But Josh and I were just…” Paul does not finish his sentence because his mom is giving him a look that he can only tell what it means, but if I had to say anything, I would say that it is a bad look, and that he will get in trouble if he doesn’t come with her right now, but that is just a guess, and I could be totally wrong.
“Josh,” my mom whispers so silently that I can barely hear her.
I think my mother just said my name for no reason, so I will stop looking at her now and focus on Paul and Mrs. Smike again because you aren’t making any action, mother.
“Alright, I guess I’ll see you later on Friday, Josh. It was nice talking to you,” Paul proclaims honestly.
“Yeah… It was nice talking to you as well,” I somehow manage to respond.
“Yeah, see you,” Paul says again. And as he and his mother walked towards the door, and as his mom opened the door to go outside, I could’ve sworn that he was actually pert about talking to me. But that is only a guess, and I could be completely wrong…

 

[DeathScape]

Chapter 5: Back To The Hellhole

“Josh, did you enjoy your four day break?” my mom questions me while I am still lying in my bed completely motionless.
I rub my eyes and ponder about what my mom has just asked me. It is true that I had Saturday and Sunday off, but I would not consider Monday a day off because I still had to endure a couple of minutes in the hellhole. So really, you are inaccurate. I am sorry to report that, but since you really don’t seem to care if I answer this question or not, I will choose to not answer this question and get dressed for the hellhole again.
You are probably wondering why I am calling school a “hellhole.” It is because the worst place ever is supposed to be Hell, and there are tons of schools that are a living Hell, so therefore this place is only a fraction of Hell, but are teachers, aids, and principles have given this hellhole a fake name so that we won’t be as scared to enter the hellhole, but I want to inform all of the teachers, aids, and principles that I have caught onto your plan, and you should just give up the “jig” now.
“Josh, have you seen my briefcase?” my mom asks me.
“No, I didn’t even know you went to work,” I answer. But this question scares me because my mother was crying when I mentioned my father, my mother said that my father might not be around for awhile, and now my mother is working when my father is the one that really works? It doesn’t make any sense, but I know there will be a horrible outcome to this situation.
“Oh, okay… Do you need a ride to school?” my mom questions me, but she only asks me this question to make me not ask any further questions. She thinks that maybe if she offers to make me endure a couple of more minutes in the hellhole, I will not ask her any further questions. I will not ask her any questions, and I didn’t even ask her a question, but a question was implied in my statement. Well, mom, let me ask you a question? What place do you hate most in this horrible world that we live in? Would you want to be in that specific place longer than you really had to be? I wouldn’t, so why would you offer me a ride to the place I hate the most? That does not make any sense to me.
“No, I think… Actually, yeah, I think I want a ride to school… Thank you for the offer,” I answer.
Yes, you may call me a hypocrite if you want to. But the only reason why I am accepting this ride is because I know a bunch of popular jocks will come beat me up even harder than usually just because I sort of got Paul Smike expelled from school. It was his fault anyways.
“Alright, honey. Get in the car,” my mom orders.
So I quickly slip on the rest of my clothes, eat my waffles, brush my teeth, take a shower, I pack up my backpack, and then I slip on my hellhole (school) shoes, and jump into our small car.
On the way to my school, a couple of kids threw objects at our car. I tried to persuade my mother that the kids that threw the objects at the car were just a bunch of punk kids, but she said she knew that some of those kids that threw objects at my car went to my school… I did not want her to find out that I was the most unwanted kid in our entire school, but I thought that I might as well tell her sooner or later, but I just did not want her to bug me about it… I mean, whenever something is bothering me, she always tends to vex me about it for a long period of time… Just think if she knew I hated life! Man, what a nightmare that would be!
We finally reached the school parking lot after a short amount of time. I opened the car door and departed from our car, and towards the school. As my mother began to watch me, I tried to not walk towards any of the kids because they would walk away from me, and my mom would ask why they did that.
My mother was still in the parking lot after awhile, and I was walking so slowly that she could tell something was up. I did not want her to suspect anything, so I decided to dash into the tall building.
Once I got into school, I remembered that the popular jocks would be extra hard on me, so I rushed into the classroom before anyone could do anything to me. It turns out Jason got to school before me and he had an angry look on his face. I wanted to kick his ass so badly at that moment just for giving me that look, but I was in school, and I knew his friends would just help him if a battle like that did commence.
It was 8:52 in the morning, so I still had eight minutes to kill, but it seemed like Mrs. Batella volunteered to kill them for me… She walked right up to me, and apologized by saying the following words: “Josh, I am terribly sorry for getting you into trouble. I just assumed that since the diamond was under your desk, you stole the diamond, but I was wrong… There is really nothing else I can say besides sorry.”
Mrs. Batella, I am appalled! That was a horrible apology for not only a teacher, but an adult, period! What the heck was that? Anyone in our grade could’ve made up a better apology, and seeing that you are normally wide awake, I am assuming the reason that you look very tired is because you spent all last night coming up with a good apology, but it turned out to be as crappy as hell, and I want to scoff at you so much, but I know you will expel me… again…
Since you are a teacher, I will have to accept your apology, or else I will be in big trouble, but just remember that when I say, “It’s okay,” I don’t really mean it. But I guess I will say it… “It’s okay.”
Mrs. Batella simply smiles and walks back to her podium where she continues to grade papers that she should’ve graded the night before, but she was too busy making up crappy apologies.

 

[DeathScape]

Jason pokes me with his pen once again, and I am entitled to peer into his grimacing eyes. Instead of being a pussy like I usually am, I roar out my words. “What the hell do you want!?” I think Mrs. Batella heard me because she glanced over at me to see if it really was me who said the swear word, but she ignores this remark because I think that she thinks that the principal, Mrs. Junt, will think that she is just making up stories to get me into trouble, so really, I can get away with whatever I want! Ha, ha! But I won’t; I am not greedy like that.
“Screw you, bitch!” Jason whispers. I almost forgot about Jason’s remark because I was so focused on the current statement that I just made in my head.
“Whatever… Let’s see you do something about it,” I say proudly.
Jason begins to clench his teeth, but he stops when he notices that the time is 9:00 in the morning, and that is when our first period begins.
“Alright, class! We all know what is coming up very shortly; it’s Halloween! So this year, instead of making dumb little objects, we our going to put on a real event! This year, we’ll have a competition for who can make the scariest ghost story, and whoever wins… gets to have their book published! Yeah! I already asked some publishing comities, and they agreed to these terms, no matter how cra- horrible the first place book is! So prepare for quite a scare!” Mrs. Batella announces.
Mrs. Batella,that was a horrible rhyme. I can pull something better out of my ass, but I will choose not to because I just washed my hands a couple of minutes ago.
“So who is up for the big competition?” Mrs. Batella wonders, considering no kids showed no zeal towards the competition.
“Not to interrupt, Mrs. Batella, but I think we all know who will win,” Jane says. My ears are one hundred percent turned on once Jane begins to speak with her soft, pleasant, and cute voice. “David will surely win.”
Really, Jane? Is that what you really think? Because I believe I will prove you wrong by writing the best Halloween book in the history of the world! I will gather information from every website in the world, and write it down in a sleek, blue notebook that I will carry around to show you that I have been taking notes, and I know that I will win this competition… And I will do it all for you, Jane Dalk! Yes, you!
“We’ll just have to wait and see,” Mrs. Batella says.
Jane smiles, but she does not show her teeth, and she begins looking at David again. David is not looking at Jane, and he acts as if he did not hear a word Jane said. He is working a cubic-block instead, even though those things are nearly impossible to solve. Even though David is the second biggest loser in the world-Joshua Sython Zammington (me) being first-and probably one of the most intelligent human beings in the entire history of the world, I still do not believe he will be able to solve that cubic-block because it is just way too hard.
I then remember that Alex and Jane were going out, and I glance over at Alex to see the expression on his face, but I do not want to look at him long because he will remember what I did to Paul and he will probably end up throwing a knife at my throat. I can see that he looks very disgruntled and a little bit sad, to be honest… Wow, I never thought a popular jock like Alex could be so… sad… It’s… not sad…
Alex then puts a very determined look on his face, and I can tell her wants to win this competition just to impress Jane, but he is not the brightest light bulb in the world to put it in a nice way, and he will probably end up falling flat on his face, and I cannot wait to see the judges exterminate him for writing the crappiest book in the world, but his powerful muscles will probably end up destroying the judges.
As the day drifts on, I almost forget all about Paul Smike and how I was the cause of him getting expelled, but the popular jocks will remind at recess real good, I suppose.
Yes, it is not 12:40 in the afternoon. Three hours and forty minutes have passed since Mrs. Batella announced the scary story competition. It is now time for recess… It is now time to go on a depleted playground where kids pick on other kids, and kids also “hurt” other kids… And sometimes they go too far… Oh well, I guess I will have to deal with it sooner or later…
Mrs. Batella allows us to go to the playground to play… I think the definition of playing must be “hurting” because the kids don’t exactly “play” on the playground…
My class and I walk out on the playground, and once Mrs. Batella leaves us alone, Alex confronts me and lies by saying the following statement: “Josh, no hard feelings, it isn’t your fault.” Alex puts his hand out in front of him, waiting for handshake, but he has done this several times, and I am surprised he still thinks I am going to fall for this.
But nonetheless, I better shake Alex’s hand because I will get even more hurt if I don’t. So I shake Alex’s hand, and he pulls me to the ground, and all the popular jocks pile on top of me and leave me with little oxygen to inhale.
Suddenly, I see faces and people running towards me. I don’t know what is happening, but I am pretty sure the boys will get off me now, and I will be in a nice, quiet, and cozy little room with good looking nurses peering down at me when I wake up…

 

[DeathScape]

Chapter 6: Where Are My Good Looking Nurses?

I am not dead, but I feel like shit, and that is not a good feeling if you have ever felt as bad as that. I am also not in a nice, quiet, and cozy room with good looking nurses; instead, I am on the playground ground and a young man is examining me. My eyes are really blurry, so I have to rub them to be able to tell who the young man is.
It turns out that Paul was the one who rescued me from the group of popular jocks… I am wondering why he is not in his other school right now, and I am also wondering why he is helping a dumb loser like me… Didn’t your mom make you apologize to me, Paul?
Paul puts his hand out and I instantly know what to do. I grab his hand, and he pulls me up to my feet. I can tell he feels a little odd, but then he asks me casually if I am still up for the movie on Friday.
I look around and notice that everyone except David (David is always engrossed in books or other things similar to education.) is engrossed in the conversation. The popular jocks are also awing. I don’t know what to say, so I just decide to nod.
“Sweet,” Paul replies. “See you there.” Paul runs away from the playground, and leaves me with the popular jocks.
I expect the popular jocks to beat the living heck out of me now that my lifesaver is gone, but they all just stand there, waiting for one of the other popular jocks to act, but none of them do, and everyone is left with a deadly silence.
I decide to look at the expression of Jane’s face. I don’t know how to describe, so I will just say that she is wearing a straight face.
Luckily, the bell saves us all from this awkward moment, and we are forced to go into our lunchroom and gorge down our food before lunchtime ends because we never get enough time to eat our lunch, and that is why we sometimes can’t concentrate during classes.
I jolt into the cafeteria and sit down in a corner all by myself. I don’t expect anyone to sit next to me, but I see that my friend that is not really my friend wants to sit across from me, so he sits at the same table I choose to sit at, and he does sit directly across from me.
“Hey,” Mark finally says.
I don’t say anything to Mark because I am still really pissed off about him hitting me in the lip with a pipe just to act cool… He is not cool, and he should just give up all hope now because he never will be cool.
The rest of the lunch period, neither of us decides to talk. We both just look at our food the whole time, and occasionally glance at each other to see how we our doing.
Once school ended, I was surprised to see that the popular jocks pretended I didn’t exist, and they didn’t give me any mean insults, and they also did not even pinch me for the rest of the day. I found it to be extremely different, but I liked it… a lot! So ignoring this matter, I decided to see where Paul’s new school was, but I didn’t manage to find it.
Finally, a young girl that looked about thirteen years old approached me and told me something about Paul Smike wanting to meet me near “Devil’s Drive.”
Devil’s Drive should really explain what this town looks like. It is a deserted town with broken objects everywhere! The road is also cut off by a stream that goes far into the distance. I figured Paul wanted to see met there because he wanted to tell me something private, but I was uncertain if I was incorrect or not. But I did as the girl said, and it turned out that Paul was there.
“He-Hey, Paul,” I manage to say.
“I like your shirt,” Paul proclaims.
“Tha-Thanks,” I respond.
“Josh… This is going to be so hard to tell you this, but I think that your dad and my dad sort of like each other… too much…” Paul admits.
“What!?” I exclaim. “You don’t mean they are…”
I don’t even have to finish my sentence for Paul to understand what I mean. He simply nods his head, and I awe in disgust. “This can’t be happening… That isn’t true… My dad isn’t a homosexual!”
Paul nods his head, and tears begin to roll down his cheeks. “Yeah… My dad and your dad have been doing some outlandish things together, and my mom might get a divorce with him!”
So that is why you have been hanging around me, Paul. You just wanted to hang around me so you would have a friend after everyone makes fun of you for having a homosexual for a father. That is the only reason you like me!
“But how do you know this?” I question, ignoring the statement in my brain.
“My mother said she saw my dad touch your dad in a different spot…” Paul admits
“That is just absurd!” I cry. “I-for one-know that my father would never do something like that.”
“Oh no! Here they come! They must’ve figured out where we went! We got to run, Josh, before they molest us!” Paul shouts seriously.
“That is incredibly stupid. I am not going to run away from my own father!” I proclaim.
Seeing that I did not dash off, Paul did not dash off either, and we waited for our fathers to confront us instead.
“Boys, listen,” Mr. Smike says. “We are not gay! Mr. Zammington and I went on a business trip for seven days because we work together! We didn’t go to any orgy club or some other outlandish place like that. And I fell when I accidentally touched Mr. Zammington in that one specific part… We’re not homosexuals… And can you boys please convince your mothers to let us back in the house? It is getting very cold out here, and we our running out of money to buy food, water, and shelter!”
“And we’re not gay,” my father finishes, even though he did not have to say that.
“Dad, I am so embarrassed right now… Please, just go away… I am like, freaking out in my head right now,” I say honestly.
“It is okay, son. I understand what you mean, but please tell your mother to let me back in the house!” my father hollers.
Dear God, where are my good looking nurses?

 

[DeathScape]

Chapter 7: The School Dance Permission Slip

Today is Thursday now, and my father is finally back in the house after a couple of days of his absence.
“Okay, Josh, remember, if anyone asks, just say that I went to a third world country like Canada to teach kids how to speak Spanish!” my dad suggests.
Dad, you are an idiot. I would love you if I had the emotion called “love,” but you are still an idiot. Canada is one of the most powerful countries in the entire world, and almost everyone there does speak English, but since I do not want to get in a big conversation like this, I will just nod my head forward to show you that I understand.
“Josh, also, when you get to school, please tell your teacher that I will be chaperoning at your school dance on Friday,” my mother demands.
A feel a sudden chill go up my spine, and I realize that my mother will find out everything about my social life… I have to convince her not to go, but what should I do? The dance is tomorrow! But then a nice feeling enters my stomach, and I grin and say, “Yeah… Don’t worry… I will… I promise.” I have just forgotten that my mom can tell when I am lying, and with that many pauses in my sentence, she will surely catch on! But she doesn’t say anything, and that is a good thing because I do not need my mom to make matters worse for me.
“Well, I guess I will walk to the hellhole,” I announce.
My parents transmit a perplexed look on their faces to me, and I then realized that they did not live in my mind, and they haven’t even visited my mind once before… Or else I would be sitting in some big time therapist’s office, explaining why I don’t like the world that much, but hey, I have been positive lately, and I don’t know… I guess I might have had a little fun talking to Paul, but I don’t know… I mean, no, I didn’t…
I jolt to school faster than normally and I arrive in the classroom five minutes before school even starts, ironically. It is 8:40 in the morning, and I am at school… That has got to be the weirdest thing that I have ever done in my life… Seriously… I hate school so much, so I don’t know why I would be this early at school.
Someone pokes me with a pen, and without even looking at the person, I assume it is Jason, so I turn to the person with a disgruntled look on my face, but I shield that look on my face once I realize that it is just Jane trying to get my attention. I didn’t even know Jane knew I was alive, and now she is actually about to speak to me!? This is an extravagant experience! I should’ve purchases that sleek, blue notebook yesterday so I could record this data in my notebook.
“Josh, can I borrow your English book… I am a little bit embarrassed to admit this, but I forgot to do my English homework, and I have never gotten a late on my homework in my life before and I don’t want to start it now! So please, will you lend me your English book?” Jane asks sweetly.
I am about to instantly answer, “Yes,” but then I wonder why she chose me to ask… I look around and notice that Jane and I are the only kids in the classroom. I decide to play hard to get, and answer with this question: “Well, where is your English book?” I lean back on my chair to seem sophisticated, but she turns around and walks back to her desk without another sound. I knew I shouldn’t have asked that question! I am so stupid! Maybe it is not too late to recover. I walk over to Jane’s desk and hand her my English book without saying anything, and then I plump myself back in my seat.
Mrs. Batella walks in the classroom at 8:45 in the morning, and she simply looks astonished. “Josh, is that you? What are you doing here so… early?”
Well, I have been in school at 8:45 in the morning, and for all you know, I could have just arrived, so why are so amazed? I am assuming that you somehow magically knew that I came here at 8:40 in the morning.
“Oh, I just like to learn as much as I can,” I answer with a fake grin on my face.
Oh wait, I just remembered that I have never been in here earlier than you, and that is why you are astonished. Sorry, that was my fault. I apologize for the inconvenience.
Once it was 9:00 in the morning, Jane handed me back my English book without saying thanks, she placed herself back in her seat, and Mrs. Batella immediately started talking afterwards.
“Well, unless someone hands in a permission slip that confirms that their guardian will be at the dance tomorrow, we can’t have a dance!” Mrs. Batella cries.
A couple of kids groan, and some of the kids don’t really seem to care at all.
I just remembered that my mother asked me to tell Mrs. Batella that she would chaperone the dance, and I checked my trapper where I put all my papers in to see if my mother signed the permission slip. It turns out she did, but I did not want to be the one to volunteer the parent; I’d rather have someone else save the dance! But of course I knew that a person would speak up by now if their parent did sign a permission slip, confirming that their parent would chaperone at the dance tonight by now.
“Mrs. Batella!” I yell out.
Mrs. Batella turns and faces me. “What is it, Josh?”
I open my mouth, but no words emanate from it, so I am forced to say never mind. I did not like saying those words, but it was hard to say the other words as well.
“Well, let’s just hope that one of the persons in this classroom turns in their permission slip by the end of the day,” Mrs. Batella announces to the entire classroom, but it seems as if the only person she is peering at is me... Does she somehow know that I have the permission slip in my trapper, and that I do not want to turn it in? I don’t want to go to the dance, but it isn’t because no girls would want to dance with me, I just hate dances. I wouldn’t want to dance with any of the girls anyways… unless it was Jane of course.
A thought popped up in my head, and I thought that it was a pretty clever plan, but deep down inside, I knew it would not work. It is simple really; I’ll just save the dance by turning in the permission slip, and then Jane might dance with me because I saved the dance! And for my mom, well, maybe I could kind of make her have an unfortunate accident… I’m just kidding, I am not that cruel, and I probably would never do that to anyone, no matter how much I hate them.
So I didn’t have a plan to get rid of my mother, but I would think of way to get rid of her later… No one would notice if she just left and went to the bathroom for about two hours… At least I hope not. But I don’t think they would close the dance in the middle of the dance anyways…
I raised my hand in the air, and when Mrs. Batella called on me, I simply exclaim, “Here is my permission slip!”
Mrs. Batella takes the permission slip and announces the following statement: “The dance is back on.”
The majority of the classroom begins to cheer, but I don’t see why they are cheering; I am the biggest loser in the entire history of the world.
I decide to turn around and look at Jane to see the expression on her face and to see if she is applauding or not, but I force myself not to, and I decide that I want my dance with Jane to be surprise… If she says no, I will be disappointed, but if she says yes, I will be happy as heck! But hey, at least people will know that I saved the dance even if Jane does not dance with me. And maybe, just maybe other girls might ask me to dance with them as well… I highly doubt that, but maybe they will see a new side of me. I really never hurt them, I just did not hang around them that much, and after a short period of time, I just sort of became known as the loser… It is so hard to explain how everyone hates me, but I just know they do, and I don’t know how to make everyone alter their perspective about me, but Paul Smike likes me a lot now, but that is only because he thought my dad his dad were gay together… Wow, that sounded very odd, but that is the only reason he liked me… If we still saw the movie tomorrow, after the dance, then I would be able to tell whether or not he liked me. But as the class continued to applaud for me, nothing really seemed to matter to me besides this moment… I should enjoy it because it might be the last moment I get any kind of praise, but praise is praise, and I like praise.
To be honest, things were getting a lot better for me.

 

[DeathScape]

Chapter 8: Down By The Creek

Today is still Thursday, and today I am going to try to catch a frog to use it for my science project that is due soon. You see, I need a frog because I am going to dissect and tell about its inner body parts, like the colon (the large intestine), the small intestine, the testes, the esophagus, and other body parts like that, but I do not know where they would be.
I know that Roy, a fellow classmate of mine, goes fishing a lot, so he might know where some frogs are, but I doubt he would help a loser like me, but after I helped save the school dance, maybe he will help me, but I highly doubt it.
I ran up to Roy who was near a giant boulder, and he seemed to be playing with some cards for reasons unknown. I approach him and ask, “Hey, do you know where I could find any frogs by any chance?”
Roy looked at me like I was crazy for a second, but then I learned Roy was a good guy when he told me he knew a perfect spot to catch some frogs. He also told me that most of the frogs are bigger than normal, so it would be easier to catch them, but he didn’t mention anything about their speed, but I did not worry too much about that. I think it will be rather easy to catch one after I find out the frogs’ strategies.
Roy led me down to a smelly, old, yellow, depleted creek with tons of frogs hopping around the place.
“Thank you,” I say to Roy.
“It was nothing, but why do you need to find some frogs anyways? What is it for?” Roy questioned me.
“You know that science project that is due on like, I don’t… sometime in November, right?”
Roy nodded in agreement, but I had a feeling he didn’t know that for sure.
“Well, anyways,” I go on with my statement. “I decided to dissect some frogs to describe its body parts.”
“Oh, really, cool!” Roy exclaims. “Hey, do you mind if I do the same thing as you?”
Yes, Roy, I do mind. You may have led me into this creek and shown me where all the frogs were, but I could’ve just looked it up on Map-Quest. I don’t want you to do the same project as me because then Mrs. Batella might not find my project “original,” and then she might give me a bad grade because two people did it, and Science is one of my worst classes. What if your project is a million times better than mine? Then I won’t look as good, so no, Roy, I do not want you to do the same “thing” as me, but I suppose you can since you seem to be only waiting for the answer “yes.”
“Yeah, sure… You know what they say; the more the merrier!” I exclaim. I will punish myself later by kicking myself in the back of my head with my own foot for ever repeating that crappy line.
“Okay, thank you,” Roy responds. Roy instantly snatches a big frog the second he laid his eyes upon it. “Well, I got mine… She sure is big!”
Of course I know you have your frog, Roy. I am not a freaking retard. I see you holding the frog in your hand right now. Why would you think I would not notice that giant thing that is crapping and pissing on you at this moment? Sorry, Roy, but it is kind of obvious that you snatched one.
“Hey, I’ll get your frog for you if you want me to,” Roy suggests.
“Really?” I ask just as I miss snatching yet another frog. “Thank you so much!”
“Don’t mention it,” Roy replies. I see Roy place his eyes on a rather small frog compared to the other ones. He dives in the disgusting stream and snatches the frog while he is under the water just as the frog is jumping in midair.
“Thank you, dude… That was really nice of you,” I proclaim in an ungrateful tone.
Roy seems to not notice how pathetic my voice sounds, and replies by saying, “Anytime… Anytime…”
Roy handed me the frog, but I dropped it because I was a little bit disgusted about holding it at first. But before it could even finish the leap that it took, I snatched it in my left hand, even though I am right handed.
“I didn’t know you were left handed,” Roy admits even though he is wrong.
“I’m not, I just used that hand for some reason,” I correct Roy.
“Oh,” Roy replies.
“Well, thank you for the frog again. I got to go home,” I inform Roy.
“See you later!” Roy hollers.
“Bye,” I bid farewell to Roy yet again. I decide to run home so Roy wouldn’t ask me anymore questions, but I still think he is an okay kid, but he can be very irritating at times.

 

[DeathScape]

Chapter 9: The School Dance

So I guess my mother is going to have to chaperone at my dance… I guess I have to accept this fact, but if God truly loves me-which I know he doesn’t-he’ll get rid of my mother… Get rid of her, meaning she won’t be able to attend my school dance because something came up, but I am not that lucky in this world. I know it will never happen. I know my first prayer in a long time to God will not change the fact that my mother will attend my school dance, but I just thought to myself, why not? It didn’t take too long to pray to God, but I forgot some of the words to the “Our Father,” but I eventually got all of the words correctly… I think…
School has just ended, and none of the popular jocks still have hurt me yet… This has got to be a world record or something. This is going to sound very odd, but I am so glad that my mother and Mrs. Smike thought that our fathers were gay with each other. Yes, I know, that is weird…
What time does this dance start at anyways? I asked myself. I did not know the answer, though, so I had to ask another human being in this horrible world. Mark would be the only person that might provide me with an answer, but he always abuses me in some sort of way, so I don’t really see any point in trying, but I suppose I will ask him if I can actually find him, but I probably will not find him, and I probably will end up not going to the dance because I do not know what time it is at… I don’t care if I go to the school dance really; no one would want to dance with a loser like me anyways.
A thought came to me. Maybe I could eavesdrop on a couple of people to see if anyone does discuss the school dance, and maybe someone will ask what time the dance is, but I am not that lucky, and my Lord probably will not provide me with an luck at all because he does not love me.
I went down by a blue house where I saw two people discussing something. I knew they were two boys from our school, considering they had a badge on their backpack that said the name of our school, which is named “Zamarak.”
I parked my body next to a bush where the two boys were talking, but they could not see me because the green leaves shielded my ugly or beautiful body… I do not know what to make of my body. Am I “sexy?” I wish I could ask a girl if I was, but she would probably bitch-slap me across the cheek and never talk to me again… Not that anyone talks to me anyways.
“Yeah,” says one of the boys. I could tell from his voice that it was Alex.
“Jane? I think she might actually like Devin,” the other boy responds. And I was pretty sure that this voice belonged to the person who sat next to me, Jason.
“It’s David, and she can dance with both of us,” Alex replies. He shrugs and then goes on with the rest of his statement. “I hope she’ll at least dance with me after what I did to her… I hope someone throws a flaming bag of shit at David’s face so he won’t be able to say yes or no at the dance when Jane asks him to dance with her.”
“Yeah, he is an idiot… I tried to ask him for a pen, but he said he only had one… He is like, the most organized and most intelligent kid in our entire school! I doubt he only had one; he just said that because he hates me,” Jason comments. “But whatever, he is not nearly as vexing as Josh is… Seriously, I want a car to just run that kid over so he shuts the hell up! He always pretends to be a sweetheart towards Mrs. Batella, and I find him always talking to Mrs. Batella as well!”
Actually, Jason, Mrs. Batella always starts talking to me, but she hates me, so I don’t know why she would talk to me, but I thought I might point that out. Oh, and I hope you die from the most horrible ass cancer your God can produce. I hope your day is filled with misery and suffering. But I will stop complaining now to hear what Alex is about to say.
Alex seemed to not want to make fun of me, but I knew it was because I befriended Paul, but since Jason was so earnestly looking for a comment back, Alex just simply thought of the easy way out. “Uhhh… Hey! How about we gone down to Ice Dream’s Scream, and get us some milkshakes! Come on, it is on me.” Alex then grinned.
I never knew that ice cream stores actually sold milkshakes… I thought that was just in movies, but I am probably incorrect.
It seems as though Jason is wondering what to make of this comment. Since nothing comes to Jason mind, he just shrugs and says, “Sure.”
The two boys run off towards the Ice Dream’s Scream store, and I am assuming that they are going to purchase the milkshakes Alex suggested.
Okay, so I did not find out what time the dance is, so I guess I will just skip it. I should also start to walk home.
Once I reached my house, I walked up our six stairs that leads to the main door of our house, put my hand on doorknob, twisted it, and then I pushed the door open and walked in to see my mother dressed up like she was going to go to a beauty pageant, but I didn’t know that thirty-four year old women entered in those kind of things… I guess I was wrong.
“Hi, honey,” my mother greets me. “I am so, so, so, so, so, so sorry to report that I won’t be able to chaperone at your school dance!”
Mother, using the word “so” six times was not necessary to get your point across, but I am rather happy to hear this news… No offense.
“Can you drive me there?” I question politely. “I’m already late, and I was expecting to dance with a certain someone.”
My mother gives me a wide smile and asks, “And who would this someone be?” But instead of giving me any time to actually answer this question, she just goes on and ignores her last question. “Oh yeah! That’s right! Your dance started at 4:00 in the afternoon, and it’s 4:30 in the afternoon now! Where were you the whole time? Alright, get in the car; I’ll be right out in a few seconds.”
Mother, I was lying; I did not even know that the school dances were allowed to be that early, considering we got out of school at 3:30 in the afternoon, and that only allowed us thirty minutes to get ready and drive there.
I also don’t see what else you need to “get.” I am not even sure beauty pageants need that many things… Can you even fit anymore makeup on your face?

 

[DeathScape]

I race myself shadow down to the car, but my shadow decides to disappear because I am kicking his ass in this race, but he usually wins during the spring and summer for some unknown reason…
After another ten minutes of waiting, my mother finally gets in the car, and it takes her five minutes to drive to the dang school when there isn’t even any traffic on the road today! Oh well… It won’t matter since no one will want to dance with me anyways… I don’t even know why I am here.
I get out of the car and race into the school’s gym to see tons of decorations, but if I explained all the decorations in the school, you would probably get bored after the first googolplex items, so I will just say that I am amazed to even see this many objects fit in our gym.
If this was a nice, funny movie about some senior in high school who tries to get laid by the end of the year, then a couple of friends that are not really my friends would approach me and give me a high-five and tell me some perverted but funny story of some guy getting his private parts bitten off by a pony, or something similar to that, but I am a seventh grade depressed loner with no friends, and I hate life, so that does not surprise me at all to see that no one is even slightly pert to see me. Oh well. Everyone hates me and I hate everyone anyways… right?
“Josh!” some anonymous voice calls out. The person hugs me and I can tell that this person is definitively a girl. The person turns out to be Alyssa. She is a very nice girl, but she is way too sensitive, and I have no idea why she would be hugging me in public, or hugging me at all. “So… do you want to dance or what?”
Alyssa, you are a very beautiful, young women, but I have never danced in my life, let alone a girl, so I do not think I will do too well in holding your hips, but I will answer with an untrue “yes.” I am extremely jaunty to see that you would even consider dancing with me, though, but I have a feeling that this is a dare by one of your friends, and you do not want to be known as a coward, so you are going to dance with me right now.
“Su-sure!” I manage to answer.
She grins a little bit and then says, “Great, so let’s do it… now!”
It just so happens that the song automatically changes right when she said “now,” but I am assuming that this was just a coincidence. I hope I don’t mess up or do anything stupid, but as Alyssa touches my shoulders, and I touch her gorgeous hips, it doesn’t seem like I can.
Stop looking at me, please. I am not ugly, ironically, but I am nothing worth to look at. You are making me very nervous by looking into my eyes like you want to kiss me, so please stop that right now. If my mother was here right now, she would stop you right now and tell you not to harass her son, which is me of course. I know you are not dancing with me right now because you want to; I am smart enough to now by now that one of your friends put you up to this… But would they go as far as to make you kiss me? That seems highly unlikely, unless you are pretending that I am some famous actor like Adam Sandler, but he is in his forties and he is very unattractive now, so I doubt you are thinking of him. I wish I could go in your mind right now and find out who you preten-
Huh? I don’t believe I know what just happened. The reason why I did not finish my last sentence was because I felt a wet and glossy thing meet my lips, and it tastes like red makeup… Which is the makeup you are wearing right now, Alyssa… Alyssa, did you just kiss me? Did that just happen right now? No, that is practically impossible, but there is no explanation for it. I was pretending to focus my eyes on another object so I would not be forced to look at the young girl, but while I was doing so, my head must have magically tilted, and then she must have… There are no words to describe the miraculous feeling in the pit of my stomach, so I will leave you with these words: It felt good! Although, “so good” would’ve identified this kiss better, but you get the picture, right? My first kiss, wow…
“I am sorry, Josh… I didn’t mean to,” Alyssa apologizes. “I guess… it was just sort of reaction, you know what I mean?”
No, Alyssa, I do not know what you mean by that statement. I have never kissed anyone in my entire life before besides my family of course, so I don’t know what you mean, but it sounds as if you are portraying yourself as a slut now, and I don’t want to think of you that way.
But why would you kiss a loser like me? Everyone in this world hates me, so I don’t see why you should like me. In fact, I never even knew you were willing to even dance with me until just now… I need to find out what you find in me.
“Oh, and Josh,” Alyssa continues after I refuse to answer he question. She stops for awhile and then she continues to say, “I am really glad that you kept this dance alive.”
Okay, so girls are going to find a perfect trait that they like most about boys, correct? I guess mine is saving dances even though my mother did not even show up at the dance at all, but as long as I feel another girl’s saliva meet mine, I’m one hundred percent okay with that, and it would be higher if one hundred wasn’t the max percent.
Alyssa begins to take her hands off my shoulders when the song hasn’t even ended yet. I am perplexed by this, but she wraps her arms around my body instead, so it seems more like a hug.
“I like… your hair,” I manage to say. I wish I could’ve done better than that silly statement, but it was the best I could do. If I said I like your skirt, she might think I am a pervert, and I don’t want to ruin my one chance with a girl…
Alyssa smiles to show her dazzling, white teeth, but I am not sure if she is just smiling because I made myself look like a total idiot, or just because she appreciated my stupid remark, but as long as I can look at beautiful smile like that, I suppose it does not really matter to me.
I am surprised to see that Alyssa isn’t talking again, and I want to make the best of this moment, but it is probably a dream anyways because I have never had anything felt so great in my entire life… Okay, I am glad that I didn’t commit suicide a couple of days ago, but that doesn’t mean I like life… “Like” and “life” are two words that will never be in a sentence together without the words “doesn’t,” “does not,” “do not,” or “don’t,” and some other acceptations that I cannot think of at this moment.
I feel someone nudge me, and the next moment, I am on the ground. It turns out that Jason knocked me to the ground and stole my dance with Alyssa. Alyssa doesn’t seem to care, and I feel like crying at this moment, but then the popular jocks probably would take advantage of that moment and make me feel even worse.
I hung by the punch table which was near Jason and Alyssa, and I waited for the song to end so Alyssa would talk to me… But she probably will not, right?
Huh? What are Jason and Alyssa doing right now? Alyssa, are you sharing the same saliva you shared me with me with Jason? Please say it is not so! And what is this? Is your tongue that I have not touched emerging from your mouth and into Jason’s mouth? Are two… making out!? Please God, no! This was the only girl that ever even noticed me, and now Jason is stealing her away from me after only two minute and thirty seconds into the song? Please, no…
I can hear Alyssa giggling, and I know that when a girl giggles with a popular jock, it is usually because they are having a good time, not because he did something dumb and she is laughing at his stupidity. No, I know better than that.
It took me a long time to realize that Alyssa was just some thirteen year old, heartless whore, but when I finally did, I ran home and hoped that a car would hit me on the way to my house.
Oh yeah, my first experience with a girl, and it is ruined by some dick that I hate so much.
Life cannot get any worse than it already is…

 

[DeathScape]

Chapter 10: There Is No Point In Trying

Well, today is Monday now and I am at my stupid school right now.
After the dance, I just ran home and cried in my pillow for several minutes, but I stopped once my mother came home. I forgot about going to the movie with Paul Smike after the dance as well, and I think he’ll probably get mad at me, but I bet he ditched me anyways.
“Josh!” someone cries my name. It is only Mark, though, and I don’t really want to talk to him, so I do not even turn my chair towards him. I sit in the front of the class, and he sits in the back of the class. “Why did you run home before the dance ended?”
I do not answer him. I do not want to answer him. I answer questions to people I dislike everyday, but I just couldn’t answer Mark because I am still mad at him for tearing my lip wide open, even though that was eight days ago.
“Josh!” Mark roars my name again, but I still do not answer him, so he walks right up to me and asks me why I ran home before the dance ended.
“Well, I don’t know, Mark, I guess I just did…” I answer very poorly.
Mark clenches his teeth together because he is oblivious of what to make of my statement, and since he had nothing else to comment back on my statement, he just walked away, and I was rather surprised because Mark is one of those guys who just blurts out random things to keep the conversation going. I hate when people do that, and I hate people who do that.
Usually I only look at Jane in our school to see what she is doing or some popular jock that wants to kick my ass, but today I decided to look at Alyssa. She was just sitting down in her little corner of the room, peering at random people, but then her eyes met my eyes, and I instantly shifted my body to face my desk. I did not want us to look at each other because… I don’t know how to explain it, so I will just say that is seems awkward to do it after something like that happens to you.
Alyssa marches right up to me, looks at me, and then says, “Hey, Josh, you’re a real a smooth dancer.”
Alyssa, no I am not. Most guys tend to touch a girl’s butt when they dance with a girl, and I could not even touch your hips, barely. Alyssa, I am not a “smooth” dancer, and if I was, then I would probably be performing at some dance show in Utah, or something like that. But I am not a smooth dancer, and that is why I am not on a stage in Utah, but instead I am in a smelly classroom in Illinois.
“I like your pants,” Alyssa proclaims.
I appreciate that compliment, but you are just blurting random things out to keep the conversation going, and you haven’t even looked down at my pants yet, so I doubt you know what I am wearing. You also seem not to be ashamed that you left me at the dance for Jason. I am sorry, but I have never been to Whore Island, but is it always this bitchy?
“Well, I guess I’ll see you around,” Alyssa remarks, but she will probably just use me like a sex toy again. Shame on you, Alyssa.
Since Alyssa departed from desk and went back to her desk several seconds ago, I will now choose to look at Jane Dalk who is staring at David… again! I really wish I went to that dance to see if she danced with David or not. It would really show if she liked him, and if she wasn’t just looking at him because he had something caught in his teeth. Either way, she was still peering at him, and that pissed me off a lot.
“Asshole,” I hear a voice hiss. “Why did you leave Paul alone in the movie theater? We saw him, and he said that he was meeting you there, but since you did not show up, we were just generous enough to accompany him.” It turns out the voice belonged to Jason.
“For once, just shut up, Jason! Oh my gosh, it is like you have to make fun of me to make your pathetic life better! I mean this seriously; you are just a pathetic excuse for a human being. Now be gone!” I shout.
Jason simply chuckles for no reason whatsoever. That was not funny, Jason, I just made fun of you, stupid. Jason turns to me and says, “At least I can get the girls.”
That was the last straw. I jumped out of my seat, faced Jason, and then I punched him right in the head. I knew that a bunch of popular jocks would show up and help him, but I didn’t care. What better of time to have a fight when your teacher doesn’t show up yet, correct?
Jason is on the ground, and he is apparently bleeding. I guess I should maintain my exasperation, but I couldn’t help myself, and I didn’t even know I was that strong. Oh boy, am I in trouble!
Alex approaches me, and for a second, I think he is going to punch me, but he simply just stares into my eyes for five seconds, and then helps Jason up. Jason refuses to take hold of Alex’s arms, but Alex forces him to do it, and so he does.
Jason wipes the blood off of his face and walks back to his desk.

 

[DeathScape]

I didn’t notice it, but everyone was watching us. The attention was all on David and me. I was a little but stunned, but once I sat back in my seat, less people looked at me, and that was a very good thing.
Jason keeps peering over at me from time to time, but when I look at him, he turns his head away from me really fast, and I think he is actually scared of me! A popular jock is scared of me? Man, my life really is getting better! But not for long because I can see that Jane Dalk is walking up to me. I also don’t know why I say her last name so much, I guess I just like to say it, but I promise I’ll try not to include her last name when I say her name anymore because there is not even another Jane in our grade, let alone our entire school, I think.
I just remembered that my desk is right next to Mrs. Batella’s podium, and that was the only reason she was in a two foot range of me. Wait, maybe it was one feet! I gasped at the though of that. Yes, I admit that last sentence was really pathetic.
Mrs. Batella walked in the classroom at 8:58 in the morning. “I’m sorry I am late, class.”
Mrs. Batella, I am glad you’re late, if you weren’t, then I probably would be down in the principal’s office by now. I would pat you on the back, but I am afraid you might scream if I do. Devils don’t like any form of love, but I don’t love you or anyone, but you know what I mean.
“Nothing ironic today besides the Scary Story Competition director!”
You expect to hear people clapping at this moment or making some sort of cheer, but no one does, and the grin on the director’s face slowly dies after he knows he will not receive any kind of praise here.
“Ummm… Well, to get started, I should maybe tell you a scary story about the scarecrow man!” the director announces. “If you are too scared to bear this story, then please speak up now so you can exit this room and go into a much happier room.”
Mr. Director Person, you are not scaring anyone, and I’m sorry to report that you are far from it. First of all, we all have heard that supposedly “scary” story a million times. Second of all, it is not even original! You got that story from some book or magazine. And third of all, go screw yourself. We all know the winner of this competition belongs to David anyways, so why are you trying to encourage us into winning when we all clearly have no talent?
“…And now I will inform you all about the Scary Story Competition!” the director exclaims.
Mr. Directory Person, I want you to go on because if you don’t, then Mrs. Batella will just bore us with stupid math problems, impossible science questions, or we’ll play a pointless social studies trivia… So I might hate you so far, but that doesn’t mean you are helping me. Yes, you are helping me and you don’t even know it. It is kind of ironic, eh?
“…And, well, that is about it, I suppose,” the directory proclaims.
Oh, Mr. Director Person, please go on! I didn’t hear the part about the whole thing, so can you please go on?
“So who thinks they’ll enter?” the directory questions eagerly.
Not one person raises their hand, and I am very surprised to see that. Not even David raised his hand… Ouch, that director guy must feel like a total idiot now. I feel bad for this lunatic, but I can’t help but laugh. I am sorry, but it is too hard to resist!
The director looks very blue at this moment, and since I can only laugh at a person’s misery for a short period of time, I decide to raise my hand. Alyssa then raises her hand, Jason then raises his hand, Alex raises his hand, Mark raises his hand, David raises his hand, Jane raises her hand, and then everyone suddenly raises their hand, and I can tell Mrs. Batella is very pleased that I caused everyone to raise their hand somehow. But one thing I cannot understand is that after Mark raised his hand, David raised his hand… Do they like each other now or something along the lines of that?
The directory slaps his hands together and says, “Okay, that is truly great! I am glad that everyone here is interested in freaking the crap out of other people. So I guess I’ll just depart now!” The man claps his hands together again.
“Well, we are very thankful for you coming into our classroom. I-for one-am really grateful that everyone in this class is interested in stories in some way or another,” Mrs. Batella proclaims, although she does not seem grateful about anything besides having him leave very shortly.
The directory waves us a goodbye, and then walks out the door and out of our school.
“Well, class, I guess we’ll get down to some social studies problems now!” Mrs. Batella announces.
Everyone groans at Mrs. Batella’s remark, but for some reason, I do not… I do not know why, but I just do not… I didn’t like her remark at all, but I didn’t groan. I wish someone would explain this to me, but I guess I am just maturing some kind of way… I guess I am respecting my el- Blah! Whatever! The day I respect Mrs. Batella is the day I start liking my life!
“Now, can anyone tell me who proposed the Monroe Doctrine?” Mrs. Batella asks. Since no one raises their hand, Mrs. Batella just decides to call on Roy.
Roy is totally unprepared, and he is sleeping on his desk, but he somehow manages to blurt out a reasonable answer. “Uhhh… James Monroe?”
No, you’re an idiot, Roy. It is so obvious! It’s John Quincy Adams, but I have no intention to answer this question because I see little point in doing so.
“No, that is incorrect, Roy,” Mrs. Batella reports. “How about… Jason!”
Jason nudges me because he wants to know the answer, so I mouth out the words, but he obviously doesn’t understand because he answers, “Sixty-nine?”
I don’t know if that was a joke or not, but I hope to God it was one, even if it was truly pathetic.
“No! Did you kids even study yesterday!? That is two incorrect answers in a row, and it is a simple question! One more wrong answer and I’ll make you write a ten page report tomorrow that explains what is significant about America!” Mrs. Batella threatens.
Okay, there is now a good reason for me to answer Mrs. Batella’s question, so I raise my hand, and she calls on me, and I say my answer, which is the following statement: “The Monroe Doctrine was signed on December 2, 1823 by John Quincy Adams.” There, I did it. I am done. That is probably the last answer I’ll ever say in the rest of my short life.
Mrs. Batella puts a wide smile on her face and responds. “Josh, you gave me more of an answer to that question than you had to. Good job, Josh, you just saved everyone’s a… butts.”
Even though no one cheerfully rejoices, I know they are all jaunty to hear the news, and you know what? It truly made me feel good deep down inside… It’s funny, but I think I might actually have some positive emotions…

 

[DeathScape]

Chapter 11: I’ll Make My Move

Nothing is interesting about my life. Seriously, all I do is stay home all day and reflect on the day… and Jane Dalk of course… She is the only reason I am breathing right now… I wish I could tell her my true emotions, but she would probably just scoff at me. I know I am jumping the gun, but I think I might actually… ask her out… on one date, though. I don’t want to be as greedy as to ask her to be my boyfriend.
I am downtown with Alyssa, though, and the problem is, I think she might actually like me… even if I didn’t make out with her. When I say downtown, I mean I am basically in a town with a lot of traffic, no trees, grass, or fields, and there are a lot of stores, but they aren’t huge malls with a banner the size of a house. No, they are mostly pottery stores and other crappy stores like that, but it is somewhere to be, and plus, they do have a movie theater down here, so that is pretty cool to hang out at.
“Hey, do you want to see a movie?” Alyssa questions.
“Yeah, sure. Why not? What movie, though?” I ask.
“How about… Broke Back Mountain,” Alyssa suggestions jokingly.
I do not receive this transmission as a joke because I have never heard about the movie Broke Back Mountain before, and apparently, it is about two men who have sexual feelings towards each other, but since I do not depict this as a joke, I do not laugh, and I felt I should’ve.
“How about An American Haunting?” Alyssa suggests.
“Yeah, sure,” I respond. “I think that movie looks pretty good.” I am lying again, I have never heard of this movie in my entire life, but I can tell from the title that it is supposed to be a scary movie, and it is at the perfect moment, too, considering Halloween is coming soon.
I am about to purchase two tickets, but I stop when I see Jane Da- (I’m sorry, I promised I wouldn’t say her last name as much anymore, right?) all by herself. I feel a sudden twitch in my body and I feel like I should accompany her.
“Wait,” I say. “Let’s invite Jane as well.”
Alyssa looks at me like I am crazy, but then she replies after a few seconds. “Well, maybe she is waiting for her boyfriend or something… Let’s not disturb her.”
That was a horrible analogy, Alyssa. She looks so sad, so I totally doubt that she is waiting for a specific person, and she broke up with Alex weeks ago!
“Yeah, well, I still think we should at least talk to her. Don’t you think so? She is a very nice girl,” I proclaim.
“Yeah, sure…” Alyssa responds.
Alyssa and I saunter towards the long bench that Jane is sitting on, and we both take a seat next to her. She looks stunned to see us, but she doesn’t say anything, and the worst part of a situation like this is being the first one to say something.
“Jane,” I finally manage to say. “Do you…” I don’t finish my sentence, but then I quickly say, “…want to see a movie like An American Haunting with us?”
Jane peers into my eyes for a second, smiles, and then answers, “I would love to.”
Alyssa looks very disgruntled, but my only life goal is to have some nice relationship with Jane. So I am sorry, Alyssa, but you will never be my girlfriend… No one ever will, unless it is Jane Dalk.
All three of us walk up to the ticket booth and-seeing that I am the man here-I purchase three tickets for all three of us. Once we got the tickets, we walked into the movie theater called “An American Haunting,” sat down, and watched and enjoyed the movie.
This felt so odd; it felt as if I was some popular jock as I strolled into the theater, laughing at something that I forgot about and spilling popcorn everywhere… It just never happened before, and it seemed really cool, to be honest.
Jane sat to the right side of me and Alyssa sat to the left of me. Yup, I was the man in the middle, ironically.
During the movie, I felt an amiable hand touch the back of my neck. I turned to the right, hoping that the girl that touched my back was Jane, but of course it wasn’t; it was Alyssa. She stopped rubbing my back after awhile, and then she reached down for my pants. That is when I started to feel uncomfortable.
Alyssa, I want to make this story G rated, and you are not helping by massaging a sensitive part of my body… Alyssa, please stop touching my leg, for I believe that you will soon get too close to my leg and you might have an “accident” on accident… And Jane would probably leave if she saw you do that.
Since you are refusing to do what I ask, I will now go buy some more popcorn, even though it does give me some bad gas that I do not wish to have with girls… I bid you farewell, though.
When I came back in the theater, I didn’t see Jane or Alyssa, which meant bad news. I ran outside and looked for them, and then I saw Alex, Jason, and a couple of other popular jocks. Those bastards! Five minutes without them, and they are stolen! How did Alex, Jason, and the other popular jocks even know I was there with them? I doubt they came at the exact time and place that I was at and time I was… If that makes any sense at all… But if you did understand what I meant, then reading the following statement: I think Alex, Jason, and the other popular jocks planned this! How many popular jocks were out there anyways? I counted out six and I knew I was right because I am pretty good in Math to tell you the truth… I know I didn’t say it at first, but I guess I was just afraid to or something like that.
I feel something really hard, and I see a red color spurt out of my body. I am not on the ground, ironically, but I know exactly what happened. Jason just hit me to look cool in front of the girls, but do you know what Jason? I am not going to take any shit from you. In other words, bring it, bitch!
I punched Jason in the stomach once, then I locked his head in my left arm, and I used my right arm to punch him in the head. A popular jock that I couldn’t see to name took my right arm, and twisted it so hard. The popular jock that I did not recognize then pushed me to the ground. I then realized why I couldn’t recognize him; I have seen him before, he is in the eighth grade.

 

[DeathScape]

I am still on the ground with no blood on me, but my arm hurts real badly. The popular eight grade jock helps me get back up, and then he punches me with his left arm once, and then he punches me with his right arm once in the face. He is about to punch me in the stomach with his right arm, but I grab his fist in my right hand, and then I crack his knuckles. I throw him to the ground and start kicking him, and that is when the other popular jocks start to take action. They do not hurt me in any sort of way, but they do try to get me off of the popular eight grade jock that is bleeding pretty badly.
I look at the girls, Alyssa and Jane, and they are both appalled. I suddenly want to die as the boys walk away with the two girls that I originally had.
I sit down on a curb nearby me, and the next minute, Jane is sitting right next to me as well. I am surprised to see her instead of Alyssa if one of the girls came back. I do not know why she would come back for me; I thought she hated me, especially after what I did! But she did not, and that was all that mattered now.
I didn’t know what to say to her so I waited for her to say something to me, but when she didn’t I had to say something before she just sauntered away, so I did. “Hey, Jane, I am really sorry about hurting that one boy.”
“It’s alright… I hate the eighth graders anyways,” Jane responds.
“Wait, you mean that all those boys were eight grades except Alex and Jason?” I question.
“Yeah, those other four boys were just… guys, I guess. I have seen them before, but I didn’t want to hang out with them after they started doing some stuff,” Jane answers.
Jane, I will kill those boys for doing such a thing to you. I know you didn’t say it, but you implied what they did, and by golly, I’ll do whatever it takes to make them suffer the consequences, even if I have to get my ass torn apart!
“So how do you like school?” Jane asks. Before I can answer, she goes on. “You’re such a nice boy, but you seem depressed and angry all the time, but you have been improving the last couple of weeks.”
Oh my gosh, is Jane implying that she might actually have feelings towards me? This is so amazing! I want to jump around in glee, but Jane is about to say something else, so I will not.
Jane gulped and then went on with her statement. “Josh, I know all about your life… Don’t ask how, but I just know.” She looks at me for a second, and then she focuses some gravel on the street. “I know that you want to commit suicide, but you shouldn’t. Your life is great, but you just haven’t realized it yet. You think everyone hates you, but they don’t. Everyone thinks you’re such a nice person, and everyone wants to be friends with you, but you seem to want to think that everyone hates you…”
I can’t manage to get the words out of my mouth. I don’t want people to know that I want to commit suicide, especially the girl I like, but I cannot lie any longer. “Ho-how do you know all of this?”
Jane stops playing with her blonde hair and looks at me. “Josh, do you remember in sixth grade? Last year, you sat next to me in all your classes, and well, you always kept a notebook with you, and I always wondered what it was… I was so curious that I took the notebook and learned that it was actually a journal, completely irrelevant to school. You wrote all your thoughts done in it, and you even wrote some stuff about killing people, but I knew you would never do it; you’re too sweet to do something like that.”
I reflect on last year, and on that navy blue notebook that I kept handy with me. Yes, she was right all about that stuff, but it is in the fire now… I had to get rid of it after an unfortunate event occurred. I also just remembered that I wrote love notes about Jane, but Jane was of course too embarrassed to mention them. I guess I should be the one who talks now. “I-I…” I took a gulp and then went on. “I don’t really want to do it anymore.”
Jane just looks at me with a-what seems to be a-cold look, but it fades away after awhile, and she begins to talk. “Joshua Sython Zammington, you seem to keep the same look on your face everyday. Everyone can read the thoughts in you head, it is so obvious. Even Mrs. Batella is concerned now! You may not keep a notebook that contains your thoughts around anymore, but you still have the same harsh look you wore in sixth grade, and I guess I really do care about… Josh, not everyone hates you.”
Those words struck me hard. I always said that no one liked me, when I really knew in the back of my head that people really did like me. I guess I just did not want to admit it. And maybe I could’ve been more outgoing and tried to hang around kids more than just assume they all hate me. And I like people as well… I really do like my mother, my father, Paul, Mrs. Batella, and of course Jane, but that is it. I do not like anyone else. Wait! Did I just say Mrs. Batella? Well, she is a little bit nice, but I can’t say anyone else, not even Mark!
“Ja-Jane, this going to be really hard to ask, but… will you go out with me?” I question finally. The moment that I have been waiting for thirteen years finally commences! I hope Jane will say yes so badly! Please God, I will do anything in the entire world if you just make Jane Dalk say yes! Please God! Please! I am begging you with all that I have!
Jane curls her lips, looks at me, and smiles. “Josh, you’re a real nice kid and all, but I just don’t think I am ready for a relationship with you… I’m sorry.”
So there I have it. I might as well kill myself now. There is no point in living anymore. I gave it my all, but I failed, and right now, I hope that truck just hits me so it can end my misery. Jane said no, no!!! Why God? Did that sick event make you ha- Wait, I should not blame my problems on God anymore… It is not like he can force people to like me because then any little eight year old girl would be married to Michael Jackson right now… If it today was 1980. Well, that was a horrible example… Michael Jackson would want to be married to those girls, but they probably wouldn’t. Okay, any seven year old girl would be married to Orlando Bloom right now. There, is that better?
“I guess I… understand,” I manage to proclaim.
Jane and I stand up in unison, and for a second it seems as though she is about to kiss me. I know she isn’t going out with me, but that doesn’t mean she won’t kiss me, right? I am so unprepared for this…
Nothing. Nothing happens. Jane doesn’t kiss me. She is just standing there still. Jane, please end this awkward moment by either kissing me or walking away. Please Jane, just do something right now so I don’t feel like a total idiot.
Thank you, Jane. Jane Dalk just… sauntered back to her house. Oh well, better luck never.

 

[DeathScape]

Chapter 12: Jason Gets What He Deserves

No, I did not cry myself to sleep today. I managed to get to sleep without a tear in my eye, but I guess I am no longer asleep because I am talking to you right now. What time is it anyways? 3:00 in the morning? Wow, that is pretty late… I am going to be tired at school tomorr-today.
All of a sudden a brick breaks through my window and lands on my bed right next to me. I am shocked because if that brick went any closer that it landed… I would probably be dead by now! Who did this!?
I jumped out of my bed and peered outside of my window. I saw Jason running away, and I was a little surprised that a thirteen year old kid managed to throw a brick that high up in the air. Yes, my house is rather big.
Without another moment’s hesitation, I ran down to the main door of my house which let outside, slipped on my shoes, and chased after Jason.
I never knew this, but Jason was the slowest popular jock in the world! I would be able to pin in him down in a matter of seconds once I finally caught up with him. And when I did I jumped on his back, causing both of us to fall to the ground. I turned Jason’s body over and began punching him in the face. After I tired out, I paused for a minute, and that gave Jason enough time to choke me, and when he did I was powerless. He wouldn’t stop, and I was afraid if he did it any longer I might die. I looked for something in my range to reach. I saw a beer bottle perched about a foot in front of me. I took that beer bottle in my right hand and smashed it against Jason’s head, causing him to bleed a lot. I then grabbed one of the broken pieces of glass and held it up to his throat to kill him.
It seemed as if Jason was trying to say something, but he couldn’t because the clash to his head must’ve done a little bit of brain damage, and his words were scrambled in his head.
I wasn’t nice at all; I slit his throat a little and some blood came out of it. This was it; this was my moment to kill Jason and to end his horrible pranks on me! But for reason I couldn’t do it… I want to, but it seemed as though my arm wouldn’t let me cut him any further than I already had. Of course I wanted to do it so badly, but I don’t know; I guess I just couldn’t.
I didn’t help Jason up either, though. I left him on the ground and I ran back into my house so I could go up to my room, lie in my bed, and go to sleep, leaving Jason all alone on the street at a little past 3:00 in the morning.
The next da-Well, it actually isn’t the next day, but the next five hours and thirty-five to forty-five minutes I was in school…? Does that sound about right? Well, anyways, Jason wasn’t at school today and the only explanation was because I hurt him pretty badly, but it was only out of anger… I don’t know if I would actually smash someone’s head with a beer bottle… Would I? Am I that mean?
Oh yeah, when my mother came in my room and asked why a brick was on my bed and why my window was broken I just told her that a brick from our house magically fell and somehow went south a little bit and landed in my roof, and then I placed it on my bed because it felt like a stuffed animal, and stuffed animals always helped me get to sleep when I was younger, and I cuddled with the brick… My mother did not believe one word of that story, and I am afraid that she might do a little investigating, and then she’ll manage to find out what I did to Jason, and I’ll be in deep, deep trouble… Somebody please hold me! I’m scared!
Jane kept looking at me for some reason all through out the day… I wondered if she knew what I did… I knew she knew what I did. I could sense it in her eyes.
I hoped I could avoid Jane the whole day because I knew she knew what I did, and that felt odd because I always wanted attention from Jane no matter if it was bad or good. But today, I just wanted her not to even look at me.
At lunchtime, Jane sat directly across from me. I always sat in a little corner of the lunchroom all by myself, but Jane decided to sit across from me today.
“Josh… Jason called me on the phone in the morning and he told me what you did,” Jane reports. She gulped and waited for me to finish my peanut butter and no jelly sandwich. Yes, I cannot stand jelly.
I wasn’t sure if I should look at Jane or not, but I then I finally decided to look at her. “Well, I guess I just… I mean, he threw a brick in my house, and he could’ve hit me in the head, and I could’ve died from that! He got what he deserved.”
“Yeah, I know, but I thought you were better than that…. I guess I was wrong,” Jane responds. At this moment, I expect her to depart from the seat she is currently sitting at, but she doesn’t, and there is a long, awkward silence.
Jane’s (Well, not her best friend.) really good friend, Star, decides to sit next to us.
Star, I know the only reason you are sitting here is because Jane is sitting here, and I am sorry that you cannot sit next to Jane and your other popular girls that are your friends at your lunch table.
I am sorry, Star, but I also have to tell you that I hate people who are named after objects. Of course the girls get all the good names like Jewels, Moon, Sunny, Star, and etcetera, and the only name guys get after objects is John… which is named after a toilet. No, I am seriously telling you the truth. Anyone who names their son after a toilet must really hate their son.

 

[DeathScape]

Star, why are you still sitting here? A conversation is not commencing and you seem to just be looking at your food like a dead zombie. In fact, when I looked at you, you freaked the living shit out of me. You are a very beautiful girl, but you can look like the unholy dead at times. So why are you sitting here? I know I already asked you that question, but you refuse to answer me, and the main reason is probably because I am asking you this question in my mind rather than out loud.
I know a perfect spot you can sit at, Star! Go sit next to John and screw him so you can have yellow, flying toilets that crap all the time! It is perfect! The yellow and flying traits are from you, and the crapping and toilet traits are from John!
Wait a minute; did I just make a joke? I don’t have a sense of humor… That is a positive emotion! Oh wait, the sense of humor emotion consist of negative and positive trait. You see, I have a negative sense of humor because I laugh at people rather than laugh with them. I will laugh if someone trips and gets a huge scrape on their face, I will laugh if someone bitch-slaps another person very hard like in An American Haunting, I will laugh when people wet their pants with piss because they are scared of something, and I will laugh at someone’s pathetic name like I am doing now. I don’t laugh with people, I laugh at people. I haven’t laughed at people’s jokes in years, and I probably never will because I am a pathetic excuse for a human being.
After Star finishes spacing out, she looks at me, grins, and says in a slow voice, “Hi, Josh!”
Awww! Star! Are you trying to arouse me? Well, it is not working. I hate you. You are only at this lunch table because Jane is. Do you remember in third grade when you lit my hair on fire on PURPOSE! Yeah, bitch, I’ll never forgive you for making almost all my hair fall out and making me not want to be seen by human eyes. I don’t care what people think of me, but I care what Jane Dalk thinks about me. Jane is far too superior to be a human being; she must be an angel from heaven or something like that.
“Hi, Star,” I finally manage to reply, even though I do not want to.
Star does not say anything else to me, but instead, she whispers something to Jane. Both of the girls look at me, and I am wondering what they are saying about me of courses. I hear Star giggle, but Jane does not.
“Josh, I don’t think Jason will be back in school for awhile,” Jane informs me. “You-I mean the blow from his head gave him brain damage.”
I want to ask Jane if Jason will rat on me, but I do not ask her that specific question because Star is sitting right next to Jane, and she’ll probably find out that I did it, and then the whole school will know, and then I’ll be on television, and then I’ll be criticized by people I don’t even know, and then I’ll be thrown in jail, and then I’ll have to do community service for the rest of my life, and then I’ll have to blow my do- Oh, you get the picture, don’t you? I’ll be in deep shit basically.
Alyssa is playing with her hair the whole time, waiting for a conversation to commence, but since no talks she goes back to the lunch table she originally was sitting at, leaving Jane and me all by ourselves.
Once lunchtime and school ended, I went back to the school that Paul goes to for education now and looked around for him. I couldn’t find him for quite a bit of time, but then I finally saw him in a corner… by himself… Wow, Paul Smike, the popular jock, all by himself in a corner. Wow.
“Paul!” I call out.
“Yeah, that is me,” Paul responds.
Of course I know it is you, you idiot. Who else would it be? Me?
“Hey, Josh,” Paul says as I run towards him.
“Paul,” I manage to say even though I am gasping for breath. “Jason, I hurt him real badly.”
“Is he in the hospital?” Paul questions.
“Probably,” I insure. “I hit him in the head with a beer bottle.
“You did what!? Josh! Do you know how much trouble you can get in for that?” Paul whispers.
“Yeah, but there was a good reason for it; he hi—”
“There’s never a good reason for causing brain damage to commence in a person’s body… He used to be my friend, you know,” Paul stifles.
“Let me finish!” I cry. I then tell Paul the whole story about how we got in a big fight, and let me tell you that it is not a long one.
“Ah, well, that is different, I suppose, but you should not have gone as far as that,” Paul informs me. “Jason is a nice kid, but he is just a little bit stubborn.
Paul, no, he is not “a little bit stubborn.” He’s a little bit psycho, dude. Anyone with half a brain could figure that out. Wait a minute, did I just call someone a “dude?” That is outlandish… I usually can’t stand it when people replace other people’s names with nouns such as the word “dude,” but I guess I can be considered a hypocrite now.
“Errr… Okay, but do you think he’ll tell on me?” I ask very eagerly.
Paul scratches his chin before answering. “No, Jason is not like that. He would never tell on anyone, especially a loser like you, no offense of course. I mean, you are the coolest kid in my mind, but he probably thinks you are a loser when he doesn’t even know you, but you get what I mean, right?”
“Yeah,” I answer.
I begin to walk away, but then Paul says my name, followed by a statement. “Hey, Josh.” I turn around and look at Paul with my medium sized hazel eyes. “Wh-Why did you ditch me at the movie on Friday?”
I forgot all about that incident. I don’t want to lie to Paul, so I guess I’ll tell him the truth. “Well, you see, I was a little…” I can’t seem to find a word that fits that sentence, but then I find a perfect one that only has a small relevance to anger. “…disgruntled, you see. Ja-Jason sort of stole my dance with a girl.”
Paul’s right eyebrow rose, and then he smiled. “It was Jane, wasn’t it?”
Wait a minute, Paul. How did you know I liked Jane? Does everyone know that? Do people see my staring at her all the time? Oh man! I don’t want people to find out, even though Jane already has found out.
“Uhhh… No, it was Alyssa,” I finally manage to reply with a stupid look on my face.
“Oh, Alyssa is it? Yeah, she is a very nice girl,” Paul comments.
Man, if this was Paul two weeks ago, he would’ve just said she had a nice ass, or big tits, or a sexy smile or face, or something like that. I cannot believe Paul’s entire personality altered in only a couple of weeks! I find that truly amazing! Maybe some of the other popular jocks will change as well… I mean, Alex hasn’t been picking on me as much anymore, but I think that is because of the incident on the playground.
“You know, Josh, you should go visit Jason in the hospital,” Paul suggests. “He is more hurt than you think, and I think he might only have a couple of days left…”
“Shut it, Paul!” I ironically roar this out loud. “He started it and you’re just trying to make me feel bad! And wait a minute! You said that you didn’t even know what happened to Jason until I informed you! What is going on!? Did you lie to me!? Why would you want to hear a repeat of the story!?”
Paul gulps and talks in a calm voice. “I-I just wanted to hear your side of the story, that is all… I didn’t want to make you feel bad, I was just saying that if he died, you might feel real bad, and you’ll never get a change to apologize…”
“Apologize!?” I holler. “Why would I want to apologize to a dick like that!? He has done nothing besides make my life more horrible than it already is, and you expect me to apologize to him!? Oh, ha, ha! That is real funny! I hope he does die! Maybe that will teach the little moron to grow up!”
Paul speaks in a calm, shaky, and quiet voice. “No, I just expected for you to be a little more mature, but I guess I was wrong about you, Joshua Sython Zammington. You’re no better than those popular jocks at Zamarak.”
I am about to scream and shout at him even louder than before, but as Paul Smike walks back to his house, I do not even mutter a swear word under my breath, because everything he just said was true…

 

[DeathScape]

Chapter 13: It Was Jason’s Fault!

Why am I riding my bike to the hospital with a videogame that costs me fifty dollars to see Jason? I hate Jason, but I cannot help but to feel like it was my fault… even though it was his entire fault.
After riding my bike for thirty minutes, I walked into the giant building that people call the “hospital.” I asked a nurse where Jason was, and without even mentioning his last name, the nurse led me into a medium sized room with a broken light bulb. The nurse closed the door behind her, and Jason and I were alone in this room.
“He-Hey, Jason,” I stutter. Since he doesn’t say anything back, I place the fifty dollar videogame that I bought him on a table that is next to his bed.
“Josh?” Jason manages to say after he looks at me. “Josh? Josh!” Jason jumps out of the bed and he actually looks better than he ever was before. In fact, he does not look hurt at all!
For a minute, I just stand there, but after Jason looks like he is about to kill me, I run outside the hospital, bumping into people along the way. Jason keeps following me, regardless of the nurses calling him to come back.
I continue to run on the grassy field, but then I see a highway in my way. If I stop here, Jason will surly tear me apart; Jason is stronger than me, I know that, even though I have beaten him in fights a couple of times.
Since I don’t really care about dieing-although this would be a rather painful death-I run into the highway where all the cars, trucks, vans, and other vehicles that are allowed to go on highways are on. Surprisingly, Jason jumps over a signpost and into the highway, but I know he just jumped over a signpost to make me frightened of him.
I am running and jumping on cars, and I know that I am going to be in big trouble in the end, but at this moment, I don’t really care.
Jason is right behind my tail, and that broken glass must’ve made him run faster, because he is way faster than the time I chased him along the sidewalk. I also wish one of the things he would forget from his brain damage is me, but he of course has to remember me! He has to!
I can see Jason reaching into his pockets for rocks! His pockets were larger than normal, and I knew they were all stuffed with rocks, but I wondered why.
Jason kept throwing the rocks at me, and he would almost always miss me, and instead of hitting me, he would hit a car. In fact, he caused a couple of people to bleed!
This was getting out of control! Some people even got out of their cars and tried to catch up with us so they could tell us to stop this nonsense, but no one was fast enough to catch a track and cross country runner like Jason, and a natural born runner like me; we were too fast for them.
I could now hear Jason getting very angry, and I could tell he was almost out of rocks, but he was not yet. He took out the biggest rock I saw so far, and of course this one hits me on my right arm.
I let out a loud roar and race towards the car that Jason is on. We both start to punch and kick each other, but then he pushes me off the car and into the street, and my head almost gets hit by a large hybrid van.
I get back up on my feet and dash off onto more cars, and almost all the cars are stopped now. Jason begins to run after me, and whenever he got within a five feet range of me, he would try to hit me in the back of my head with a rock, but most of them ended up hitting me in the back.
“Stop this!” I hear a man demand.
I jump into a new area of the highway where the cars haven’t stopped, and Jason decides to take the risk as well; the only difference is, Jason gets hit by a red car and it causes him to fly in the air and crash into a window of a green truck, and then the glass breaks, Jason falls on the ground, some of the glass hits him, Jason starts to bleed, and then another blue truck collides into the green truck that Jason is next to, causing the blue truck to run over Jason, and kill him.
I admit that this is a rather unfortunate event, no matter how much I hate Jason, but that has got to be the sweetest death I have ever seen.
Of course almost every car stops and asks what is going on, and everyone begins pointing at me, so I run off back to the hospital to get my bike and ride home… Maybe I should take my videogame as well, but I don’t really want to be questioned by nurses. They would probably ask where Jason went, and I wouldn’t be able to tell them the whole story.
On the way back to my house, a news reporter pulled me over and asked me how Jason died.
I told the news reporter that we were actually chasing a puppy, and Jason was throwing rocks at me so the puppy would come out and save me, and that our whole plot was just to get the puppy back home.
The news reporter looked at me with a strange look, and I could tell that he did not buy any of it. “You know, there are going to be a lot of people who will sue for messing up their cars, and when I say messing up, I mean breaking their cars.”
“Well, he was basically trying to kill me, and I know it, too, so what should I have down? Let him kill me? Oh yeah, that is real beneficial to me,” I respond, but it actually would be beneficial to me because I do want to die.
“Kid, we need the real story, so please just tell me it, or you can tell the police it for yourself,” the news reporter responds.
“Okay, okay, okay,” I say. “I’ll tell you the whole story.” And so I did, but I left some parts that were not important out, but I think he was mostly on my side, and that was a good thing.
“Well, I will make sure the police don’t lock you up,” the news reporter almost promises. “Take care, kid.” And with that statement being said, the news reporter leads me out of the truck, and I ride my bike home with so many questions on my mind. Jason died so young… but I still hate him.
I don’t feel sorry for him at all, though; I mean, it was his fault, right?

 

[DeathScape]

Chapter 14: The Substitute Teacher

It is Wednesday now. Jason died only yesterday and I don’t know how to explain it to everyone, and they all know I was there because they read it in the news paper and saw it on television or heard it from someone else. I can’t explain that many things that vividly, but I think most people got the general idea. Most people weren’t that mad, even the popular jocks did not hurt me that much because of what I did. They understood it was his fault, and that made me feel bad. It just seemed like no one cared about Jason at all. I mean, his friends did not even look sad when I told them about the news. (Most popular jocks do not usually listen to the news or read about the news.)
The worst part of it all was would probably be Mrs. Batella’s reaction. If she came in and told everyone about the unfortunate event, what would she say exactly? It is not like he died in some courageous way; no, he died trying to kill me. Mrs. Batella had no idea what to say about that, and I think that is why we have a substitute for today.
To my amazement, it was the scary story directory guy. You have got to be kidding me.
“Hello, class!” the Scary Story Competition director greets everyone in our classroom with a nice tone in his voice. “You may have remembered me from the Scary Story Competition. I am the director there, but I don’t want you silly gooses to be calling me Mr. Director Person all day, so I will write my name on the board.”
I could instantly tell what his name was going to be right after he wrote the “R” and the “a.” His name was Mr. Ranning. It was an okay name, I guess, but I think a “ton” at the end would’ve made him sound more sophisticated, but who am I to judge? It is not like he can pick his last name.
“Okay, class, today I am giving you the whole class period to write your scary stories for the Scary Story Competition!” Mr. Ranning announced.
I’m sure that most of the people forgot about the Scary Story Competition, and I am sure that no one wants to enter the competition anyways. Everyone would just work on other homework, so it was cool. A whole day free for me! Yay! Maybe I should get started on my science project. Nah, that is incredibly boring… Maybe I should try to win this Scary Story Competition to impress Jane… If only I had an idea…
I thought about it for awhile, and I thought of a turtle screwing a tiger would be pretty scary, but that is a different type of scariness, I suppose.
But then it came to me, not instantly, but it eventually came to me. And as the idea popped in my head, I quickly wrote down as much words as I can. I wrote so many words at once that my hand started to hurt. I decided to take a break, but that break only lasted about three seconds.
After two hours of writing, I already was on page forty. And yes, my handwriting is rather small (Maybe a bit too small.), so it was long basically.
If Jason was alive right now, he would probably rip my story in half and scoff at me, but since Jason is dead, that is not a problem.
When the hands of the clock in our classroom hit 12:40 in the afternoon, everyone dashed down to the lunchroom, and I was surprised to hear more people talking about the Scary Story Competition, rather than Jason’s death. Everyone was all hyped up about this competition, and I didn’t want them to be. This was my moment; I wanted to win that competition to impress Jane! Of course Jane would be prouder if I beat tons of people rather than a few people, but as long as I won, I’m sure that was all that mattered.
At the end of school, I turned in my scary story, and Mr. Ranning looked rather pleased by it. I could see that he wanted to start reading this story right now, but he was busy with explaining the rules of the competition to Roy, but I stuck around the classroom long enough to see Mr. Ranning read the first page of my story, and I could tell from his eyes that he was thinking that this story was made by God himself.
Oh yeah, this competition and Jane are mine for sure!