Get me Out of My Mind (Brendon Urie)

12. I'm twisting allegories now

Claire's party to celebrate our graduation is fast approaching.

The week before it, I start to get ready. Not in the sense that Clare probably would like- getting ready with evil hideous torture devices known as makeup and manicure kits, all that kind of rubbish. No, no, I mean getting ready in that I begin to start faking my sickness. The ultimate goal, of course, is to convince Claire I'm too sick to go to this nightmarish horror story- ahem, I mean party, that she's planned. And since sudden sicknesses are not quite enough to fool my friend (eg. My first date with he-who-must-not-be-named) I have to form a step by step plan.

Claire's been asking why I suddenly fell silent about the-dickhead-who-broke-his-promise-to-call, and I have been, uh, 'artfully' dodging the subject. An example is as follows:

Claire: How's Brendon?

Me: OH WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT THERE'S A SQUIRREL IN THE TREE?

Claire: Did something happen?

Me: WOW THE SQUIRREL IS TWITCHING ITS TAIL OH MY GOD!!!!

And the like. Needless to say, I don't quite think Claire is convinced by my brilliant acting skills. In fact, she rarely is. Which is why I know I'm going to have to lay it on really thick now. But yippee, laying it on thick and exaggerating things is my speciality!

I'll be damned if I'm going to that party. A club? Nope. Dressing up? NOPE. Dancing? NopenopenopenopeNOPE. A certain (Backstabbing asshole who tricked me into thinking he had feelings for me then turned out to be like every other guy I've ever been around which makes me feel even worse for some reason) Urie character? Nope to the power of infinity. I would try and write out that many nopes, but it would take the rest of my entire life, so meh, I'll pass.

I'm perfectly not bitter about the Brendon situation. No, no, no, I am FINE! I knew he was going to turn out not to be interested, anyway! So this comes as no surprise that it has now been an entire month and he hasn't called me like he said! I totally didn't get my hopes up, no, siree-bob!!!! *insert scarily cheerful smile here.*

Claire hasn't had her hair done over this month, either. So there's been no interaction between her and Monsieur Urie and so she doesn't know that he has finally realised how pathetic I am. She is still living under the delusion that he is interested in me, and keeps asking me utter rubbish about when our next date will be. I change the subject whenever she does, but at some point I know I am going to have to bite the bullet and say our next date is never, actually. I'm just hoping I can continue to be a coward until her next appointment with Brendon, in which case he'll probably spend the whole time bitching about what an annoying idiot I am, and things will never ever ever ever ever happen between us again.

I mean, I did warn him, so I should be happy that he finally came to his senses... right? Yes. Yes I am. Totally happy. Tra la la la la, happy. Happy as can be. Happy as a smurf skipping through a field of mushrooms. La la la, life is wonderful. Frabjous day, calloo, callay.........

Ahem. Back from my sheer happiness (yes I am totally happy one hundred percent I am not at all sad about Brendon not calling I am not at all disappointed I couldn't care less hahahahahahahahahaha)

And back to the evil party of evilness and death and doom; needless to say, I am just the tiniest, teeniest bit unenthusiastic about it.

And so, a week from the party, I begin setting what I have now named Erin's Awesome Plan of Awesomeness to Use to Avoid Stupid Parties. If this works, which I am praying on my knees it will, I will know that it is a success, and therfeore utilise it every single time Claire tries to drag me out to do something... social. Shudder. Ugh.