Ozwald

Chapter 6

6

We never forget those who make us blush. - Jean-François De La Harpe

It’s all so satisfying to be a part of something. Even if that something totally and completely sucks and half the time you want to quit and everyone’s always snickering about you.  You can feel accomplished, and you feel more like you actually have the right to flip them the bird because they probably feel the same way about being a part of something and wouldn’t ruin that because of one little thing. And yes, I’m talking about the STD’s. Band practice number two. 

It went smoothly for the first half of a second. It was at Rebecca’s house this time. She lives in the total cliche type suburb house. Kind of like Ozwald’s, to think about it, but so different at the same time. She had the white picked fence and the roses and the other flowers and the small patch of veggies and morning glories in bloom climbing up the side of the fence. And the little wind chimes hanging from a hook above the front porch that held a nice bench and a white painted rocking chair. The door was blue. And for whatever reason, this was of the utmost importance to Max. 

“It’s blue.” he sneered, actually spitting to the flowers. A rose petal caught the wallop, sagged, and fell off. It was reaching it’s time anyway, it was already sort of crumply. 

“What’s blue?” Tim asked. 

“The door.” Max choked, staring at if as if it were a big slug or a wart jumping into his soup. 

“Yes.” Ozwald said, nodding, and confirming, “Yes, the door is in fact, blue.”

“Anyone and everyone that’s at least a little bit cool has a red door.” he shouted. “Damn.”

“Are you saying that red is a better color than blue?” Ozwald asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“No, just that blue is not a better color than red when it comes to doors.” Max sighed.

“What if I might have a blue bedroom door?” Ozwald questioned, defying.

“Well, is it blue?” Max asked, raising an eyebrow and squinting in equally strong defiance. Ozwald sighed.

“No, it just so happens to be white.” he admitted. Rebecca ran out to greet us.

“Hi, thing one, jerk two, Megan’s boyfriend and Megan the cool one! Come in, feel free to accommodate yourselves while I make some tea.” Rebecca sarcastically smiled and laughed. Then she turned to me and said, “But really, in all seriousness, you can totally take one of the cookies for yourself, maybe give some to Ozwald and a fraction to Tim if you feel nice. Max, I will tell you now, get’s none.”

I could only assume by the context that when she said jerk two she was taking about Max. We followed her in as Jerk 2 sneered and rolled his eyes at everything. We got to Rebecca’s room, and I hoped silently, but Max still burst. 

“Seriously?” he asked. “We’re supposed to rehearse in here with no room to turn around in and, what, the Jonas Brothers staring down at us?”

“It’s Justin Beaber.”

“Seriously? You have to be joking me.”

“I am not joking you. You’re joking. Joker. Now roll in your drums or your practice pad or whatever, we need you to participate in writing some music as opposed to just sulking and insulting me and all that.” Rebecca sneered back. He sneered some more in response.

So we worked a little bit. Then Max and Ozwald got in a small disagreement which further led to a bigger disagreement between Rebecca and Max and Tim just sat quietly in the corner like always.