Chapter One
xX The who, the what, the when, the how and the why Xx
So out of all the novels in that shop, you chose my story. You passed up all the so called “romances” out there— you know the ones that are really just copy and paste versions of each other— for my story, one that I can assure you right now is not a romance. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I don’t believe in fairy tales: they are just a myth, nothing more and romance is just as mythical as a man-bear-pig
Well I know that there are some of you out there that just picked this book up because you think that of course there will be a happy ending, and that some kind of knight in shining armor will stroll into my life and take my heart on a whirlwind adventure . . . oh how can you people believe that stuff. It actually makes me want to vomit. But let it be written now, if I do have a knight in shining armor, I can assure you now he’s ridding a donkey not a stead, and he most likely is a retard in tinfoil.
So today if you look at the world, the definition of love is a deep and tender feeling of affection for or attachment to a person or persons. Now that simplified basically means you see a person, you fall head over heels (mind you how is that even possible?) now call me a cynic, believe me you wouldn’t be the first, and I doubt you’d be the last, but that just sounds absolutely preposterous, and yet people believe in this myth.
Let me ask you all a question, I take it all of you have a good education: so if we are taught that figures like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny are just myths, then why do we as fully educated people believe in this myth called love?
The answer . . . boggles my mind.
I do know, of course, one avenue of possibility. If there was no love imagine how those insomniacs that clutch their heart-shaped pillows tightly in their arms as they watch those infomercials about “Buy our product and you’ll fall in love.” Ahhh and people say I’m naive. Imagine, if all you had to do to fall in love was eat a candy bar, or rub some disgusting, mutated mixture of vegetables and horse crap over your face, now wouldn’t that be wonderful.
Well to bad, it isn’t like that.
Well for better or worse, you’re here now; you’re in my little world.
Of course you want a story. You want a main character with a strong purpose and a desire that drives him—or her forward. I think the title I’m looking for is a protagonist. Funny, I always saw myself as more of a procrastinator.That of course would be me, me your faithful narrator and neighborhood cynic, Chase Stanford. A boring name I know, short for Cassidy, call me that and I hope you enjoy your castration, I know I will.
Now when you break down any story, there are a few things you will find: well there’s a plot. Basically that’s the reason to tell the story, it moves forward all the chapters in a story—and this story, even though I assure you it’s not like anything you’ve ever read—this story definitely has a plot. It might be murky at sometimes, but it’s there, I assure you.
Next you have to have a good strong secondary character, usually the goofy sidekick, or the strong silent type with a fetish for trench coats. Well that would definitely be my BFF since I was just knee high to a grasshopper—just another interruption, does anyone even know what the hell that means. Either way me and Gabby have been friends for a long, long time. We love each other long time, as the kids these days say. Some people say we are twins. We never denied that of course. Gabby deff plays an important role in my story, but we will get to her soon.Mind you, that crazy Gabberella needs her own chapter in the story even that might not be enough.
Okay, so we have covered the narrator and the protagonist, that’s me, Miss Chase Stanford. So we can cross that one off, one down and a few more to go. So that’s “the who.”
Then we’ve got our plot, well that basically begins and ends with my absolute mistrust in fairy tales. Of course there are a few more tangled webs underneath it all, but I can’t give that away all in the first chapter, why of course would you read to the end of the story that way. I know how much you like to hear me rant, but come on; even I’m not that exciting.Let’s cross that off as “the why.”
Following that you have my bubbly friend Gabby Avalon. Let’s call her another “who,” even though my dear Gabby can fit into any category she wants.
So we’ve covered the who, the what, what’s next . . . what’s next, oh yes, of course, the when, well as much as I wished I lived in the good ol days, where chivalry actually existed and romance . . . might have been real, this story unfolds in the modern day, 20-11, some call it the future, to me, it’s just another day, another month and another year.
After when there comes one of the most important questions of all: without this one you can’t have a story. It’s like having soup without a bowl. Or a no smoking sign on your cigarette break, oh yeah, it’s ironic. And yes, I am a major Ironic fan. Don’t know who sung it? Put the book down, pull out your iPod and listen to her. That girl and that song is pretty much the theme song of my life.
So I’ve left you wondering for too long: so where’s my drum roll, okay, fine I can deal without the drum roll. So the last and probably most important question you need to ask, is where oh where does this story—my story, take place?
I’d love to say it takes place in Paris, the city of love. Something about that city that just causes me to shiver. My story unfolds in Laguna Beach, in the esteemed O.C, a wonderful, tropical stretch of metropolis that sits beside a tropically clear ocean, but it takes place in the traditionally built Toronto, Ontario Canada, Eh.
So that’s it, our story is set.
Well like most stories about teenage dramas this one is about feeling invisible. Oh but don’t worry I’m not going to drag you through the same old nonsense about raising your voice, and all that jazz. No, this is about how my opinions and a few others . . . ah let’s say circumstances, intertwined and I went from nobody to basically becoming the hottest thing since the sun. And the best important America has seen since . . . well ever.
Well . . . I’ve ranted enough for now, anyway, so now it’s time for me to get some sleep, Chase, out.
With a click I watched my tattered Compaq notebook flicker into darkness. And with that, I drifted.
