The Four Soccer Moms of the Apocalypse

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The Soccer Moms

The four horsemen of the apocalypse, infamous throughout the world, are no more. Instead, there are soccer moms

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When I saw the four baby blue minivans in perfect formation, rolling down Main Street, I knew it was over.
Maybe I should explain.
My name is Trinity, I'm an outcast girl who listens to exclusively My Chemical Romance, and wears all black, all the time, which means that upper middle class white religious soccer moms were my worst enemies.
I would much rather be trampled to death by horses than endure the gossip of Brenda, Beth, Melissa, and Cathy as they talked to my mother,  insulting my hair, my looks, and my music taste, as if I wasn't standing right there,  while their boys wrestled each other in the parking lot, dirt covering their soccer uniforms.
That was my life. Being a small town girl with just my mother and father as my only living family, I was only fifteen, so I didn't drive a car yet, there was no escape.
One fateful day, the unthinkable happened.
I woke up at my usual time, around 2:30 in the afternoon, and did my usual routine. Put in my headphones, and blast Gerard Way's voice in my ears as loud as I possibly could. Listen to them until I was almost faint from hunger, go downstairs and eat whatever I could conjure from my fridge in under 15 seconds, then go back upstairs and do it all again.
About twenty minutes into my ritual, I heard my mom bang on my door as loud as she could.
"Trin!" My mom called from outside. "We have visitors, get dressed!"
What? My mom hasn't told me we were having company, she usually told me in advance, chiding me that I should actually interact with people this time.
I never did this, of course, but her heads up gave me adequate time to come up with excuses to leave the gathering, and go listen to music again.
Had she caught on?
Damn it.
I sighed and pulled on my usual black jeans and black t shirt, and went out to face the harsh world.