creative piece
help me out here fellas (and zana)
The Salutatorian
You always thought you were so much better than me. Like my accomplishments were nothing! Not once did I ever party or go drinking. Not once did I indulge in the carnal pleasures of “thirsty Thursday”-an institution as venerable as the school song Im sure. I spent every waking hour in the library reading and working. The work is my life! But that’s not good enough for you is it?
God forbid you even notice me. Your just content that I remain you little step and fetch. “Could I borrow your pen?” you ask. “Mines out of ink.” Like I can’t see through that. You think Im so stupid that I wouldn’t pick up on a little bit of subtext? How dare you insinuate that you could serve my pen –MY PEN, the pen my father gave me- better than I could. Are you trying to say I shouldn’t even be writing? You infuriate me.
The worst part is when I brought it up that I saw through your little veil. You just sat there blinking at me. Were you surprised, dear girl, that I could understand your little mocking game? I told you to stop looking at me like that but you just kept blinking blinking blinking! Blinking through those thick blue glasses. Your fashion sense is pathetic. It’s like your trying to broadcast to the world that you’re “a smart chick.” Emo glasses, with big boxy lenses, magnifying your radiant eyes, forcing the light into them like a crystal. I saw the light catch on the ear piece highlighting just how bent they are. The glasses are the axis of your universe I’d wager. Everything you are rotates around that single shallow definition. Emo. My eyes were sucked in, following the frame like a dog follows its tail, then I notice…
“Stop blinking at me!”
Then you started to say something. I couldn’t quite hear what it was. Your mouth was horrible; moving madly, it didn’t match up with what you were saying.
“My god you really are that stupid aren’t you?” you hissed at me from across the table.
“Quiet”
“You don’t even understand that all the work you’re doing wont matter. Think about it: a second has no meaning to the day, as a day has no meaning to the year, as the year has no meaning to the century, as the century has no meaning to the era! Your life is nothing.”
You said all that without even moving you mouth or looking up at me. You treat me like a dog. I bet you didn’t think I was smart enough to use the book did you? Smart enough to keep smashing until the dull thud turned soft and wet. Ill never again live in your shadow.
The Salutatorian
You always thought you were so much better than me. Like my accomplishments were nothing! Not once did I ever party or go drinking. Not once did I indulge in the carnal pleasures of “thirsty Thursday”-an institution as venerable as the school song Im sure. I spent every waking hour in the library reading and working. The work is my life! But that’s not good enough for you is it?
God forbid you even notice me. Your just content that I remain you little step and fetch. “Could I borrow your pen?” you ask. “Mines out of ink.” Like I can’t see through that. You think Im so stupid that I wouldn’t pick up on a little bit of subtext? How dare you insinuate that you could serve my pen –MY PEN, the pen my father gave me- better than I could. Are you trying to say I shouldn’t even be writing? You infuriate me.
The worst part is when I brought it up that I saw through your little veil. You just sat there blinking at me. Were you surprised, dear girl, that I could understand your little mocking game? I told you to stop looking at me like that but you just kept blinking blinking blinking! Blinking through those thick blue glasses. Your fashion sense is pathetic. It’s like your trying to broadcast to the world that you’re “a smart chick.” Emo glasses, with big boxy lenses, magnifying your radiant eyes, forcing the light into them like a crystal. I saw the light catch on the ear piece highlighting just how bent they are. The glasses are the axis of your universe I’d wager. Everything you are rotates around that single shallow definition. Emo. My eyes were sucked in, following the frame like a dog follows its tail, then I notice…
“Stop blinking at me!”
Then you started to say something. I couldn’t quite hear what it was. Your mouth was horrible; moving madly, it didn’t match up with what you were saying.
“My god you really are that stupid aren’t you?” you hissed at me from across the table.
“Quiet”
“You don’t even understand that all the work you’re doing wont matter. Think about it: a second has no meaning to the day, as a day has no meaning to the year, as the year has no meaning to the century, as the century has no meaning to the era! Your life is nothing.”
You said all that without even moving you mouth or looking up at me. You treat me like a dog. I bet you didn’t think I was smart enough to use the book did you? Smart enough to keep smashing until the dull thud turned soft and wet. Ill never again live in your shadow.
posted by Mr. Pardue at 12:49 PM
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