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My Language Arts teacher asked my class to write something a page long that would be the start of a story, that would cause the reader to have suspense (it was an off day. She didn't feel like doing something that would actually teach us anything.) and I ended up really liking what I did. I might continue it in my free time.
(Don't worry about the mildly teacher-unfriendly language. She never actually reads this stuff, so it's not like it matters.)
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I wish this story could start out with a bang. Something that could grab your attention right away. Me kicking some criminal’s butt. Me saving hundreds of passengers on an airplane about to plummet into the ocean. But obviously, this isn’t going to be one of those cases. I’m no Indiana Jones. I’m no Tyler Durden. If I told you I had beginnings as an interesting person, that would be a lie. However, unlike your average loser-turned-hero, I haven’t been a loser all of my life. And that’s not my fault. I’m no Spiderman. I’m no Hero of Time. I became a loser because of one freaking person. The she-jerk. I hate her so much… If I had any choice at all, I’d choose to be nearly anyone else in this stupid school. A jock. A nerd. Even perhaps a TEACHER. Because honestly, I think that everyone else in Robinson high is better off than me. But of course…most of us have dull, crappy beginnings. I’m average, the kind of guy who you’d never even notice in a room full of people. The one with no future. I’m no genius. I’m no athlete. I don’t even have any talents, as far as I’m aware. I’m the kid no one wants to hang out with. I’m not hideous, but I sure ain’t handsome. I’m the kind of guy you ignore, because if you don’t, everyone will think that we’re friends. You don’t want them to think that. If you’re not already in a similar situation, imagine what that’s like for a freshman-barely-out-of-middle-school kid. I guess I should explain more in depth why everyone’s deciding to be douchebags to me…see, I’m NOT a born loser. I was MADE this way. It’s ‘cuz of the crud-queen. HER. “She who must not be named”. She’s your standard rave Barbie doll. Hair that changes color more often that her mood changes, kandi all over the frickin’ place, and those green eyes that can’t possibly be anything but color contacts. I mean, honestly. Come on. Well, I guess at least she’s not one of those aberzombie Hollister whores. She ruined my LIFE and ever since she moved here my life has been nothing but a living hell. If solitary confinement can be called hell. Her name is Jenny Rivers, and of course I somehow HAD to catch her attention and piss her off. I swear, she’s like the reincarnation of Hitler’s wife or something. I suppose things could be much worse. I could be getting harassed for having oily greasy hair, or acne and pimples, or being a hipster. At least it seems I’m getting mocked for…no apparent reason. My name is Trent Monroe. This is how I saved all of your fricking lives with five minutes to spare.
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Innocence Abandoned: And that's why scissors always knows exactly the right things to say to newbs.
Chuckledarkly: Scissors don't lie. Only cut.
Blood Lord: Scissors, I tip my hat to you, my good sir and/or madam for giving me a good chuckle today.
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