Once an 11-year old came up to me and asked me where the community pool was.
I said, "Gosh, you are like, the fiftieth person to ask me that. You go down that hall, turn left - if you know where left is, at least, and then you walk for about ten seconds. You turn right, walk five steps and then you find that you are wet because you have just stepped into the pool."
The girl looked at me sideways. "You witch," she said with a blank face, then she turned away and walked toward where I told her the pool was.
Except she didn't actually say witch, you see.
I can't help that I am so mean to people. I mean, really - I don't even know that I'm being rude until about a few minutes after I say something to someone. Then I start internally punching myself for saying it.
I know what you're thinking: I should be able to detect this obvious rudeness. I don't even have an answer to that, actually. It's just awful that I am this way.
I have no friends, a mom who can't afford not bringing a guy home every night, and a dead fish in a corner of my closet. Don't ask about the fish, I don't know why it's there either.
I'm in my room right now, and it's twelve in the morning. I'm drawing someone - a boy, about 19, with hair that is shaded in to be the blackest of black and skin as pale as the moon. His eyes are little shaded in though - I imagine them to be a fairly light shade of purple or something. Oh well, I'll colour it in, once I actually draw this boy decently. This drawing looks like somebody used my hand to draw it while I was in a coma. Okay, I'll admit, it's pretty good, but not my best.
I flung my sketchbook across the room and switched off my insanely bright lamp. I awkwardly slipped myself under the covers and tried to fall asleep.
That was when I heard the screams.
I threw off my blankets and ran to my window, which was wide open due to the summer heat. I couldn't see anything - there was no wind, the whole neighbourhood looked as quiet as ever. The screaming still went on.
Then I got this crazy idea - is that my mom? In her room?
No no, that can't be. My mom has had sex so many times she couldn't have possibly screamed like that. She didn't even sound like that.
The screams went on.
Who could it be? I got out of my room and tried to look for some clue around the house. I looked through every nook and corner: in the basement, behind every piece of furniture with some space behind it. Nothing. Not one thing I could find. I even listened through my mom's bedroom door - some faint moans, but not what I was looking for.
I sighed. I guess I'll have to call the police, then.
I went back to my room after about thirty minutes and picked up the landline. I punched in 911 and held the phone up to my ear, waiting for somebody to pick up. Nothing.
Seriously? Not even the emergency guys want to pick it up? Christ, this town sucks.
I sighed again, and decided to go back to bed. I picked up one more pillow from my closet, slid into bed, and used the extra pillow to cover my left ear as I slept on my right side. Even through the pillows, I heard the screams clearly. Eventually, I fell asleep.
I woke up to a knock on my door. "Honey?" I heard my mom say. "I need you to get up, sweetie."
The screams went on.
"Coming, Mom." I went into the bathroom in my bedroom, brushed my teeth, and took a quick shower. When I got ready, I flopped down the stairs and picked up a banana from the kitchen. There were five raw ones, two ripe ones, and one with a few black spots on it. I took the spotty one and peeled off the peels. "Mom? Where are you?"
"Coming, Joey. I'm in the bathroom." Probably to check if she actually got her period. A look of disgust came upon my face. Ugh.
I heard the sound of the toilet flushing. The door opened and out stepped my mom. She looked worse than usual - her hair was a mess of monstrous curls, and her eyes kept closing from sleepiness. "Wow, mom, what happened?"
"Last night was a bit too much for me," she replied.
"Was it the screams, or . . . ?" I asked.
"What screams, honey?"
Oh, so it wasn't the screams.
"There have been screams going on since last night. Can't you hear them right now?"
Mom looked down and made a serious face, like she always did when she was thinking.
"I can't hear anything, Joey," she said after ten seconds.
"Seriously? You can't hear them? Are you sure you don't need to see a doctor?"
"I think you need to see a doctor. I can't hear a thing."
Wow. That was strange. The screaming wouldn't stop. I didn't even know where they were coming from.
