Death is My BFF Rewritten (Book 1 of the Rewritten Death Chronicles)

Chapter 2: Mismatched Eyes and Daisies

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NO SPOILERS.

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              " Heeeeeello, Chicago! Thanks for tuning in to America's #1 news channel. The only news channel that has a happy couple as their anchors. I'm Anchorman George Smiley, and with me every single day, 365 days a year, and twenty-four hours a day, is my lovely wife, Anchorwoman Lavender Smiley. I hope everyone's having a happy, happy night!"

            The camera panned to a woman in a purple blouse who's bright, fake smile matched her husband's smile. "As do I, Georgie-poo, as do I." For a moment, her grin faltered as if she had forgotten the camera was on her. "In the latest news, Joe's Sloppy House was closed due to suspected cannibalism, and rodent molestation! Yikes, not again!'

            "Disturbing! Those rats are going to need some intensive therapy this time!" George Smiley chimed in with his phony laugh. "You'd think that dang restaurant would be closed by now, but I must say, their Sloppy Joe's are just to die for!"

            "To die for. Very true, George, very true. Back to you, Tom!"

            "The midnight news never fails to put me to sleep," I mumbled, toweling off my long black hair and then throwing myself onto my bed, yawning. Sleep just hadn't been an option for me, even on a Friday night. Ever since school had started about a month ago, my entire sleep cycle was thrown off, and I was left watching the news on the tiny television in my room that I sometimes had to bang a few times to make it work, while my parents slept like the dead.

            I watched through tired eyes as the weatherman did his best impersonation of rain and wind with his hands over the green screen picture of Chicago, looking like a ticked off Orangutan. Laughing to myself, my eyes slowly started to finally shut when--

            "Breaking news!" Suddenly George Smiley was back on the television and a picture of two handsome men with magnificent hair, pristine navy blue suits, and brilliant white smiles flashed onto the screen. "Devin Star, President of the top advertising company in America, D & S Towers, and his son, VP of D & S, and teen heart-throb, David Star, were both spotted this afternoon having a dinner date with--"

            I shut off the television. If there was anything I was sick and tired of more than anything, it was seeing those two slime balls on the television, in the newspaper, and on the front of every magazine. The only reasons David Star and Devin Star were famous were because they owned a successful business, were notoriously known for dating a new super model each week, threw huge parties, and were both extremely good looking. In fact, they were so good looking, that both Devin and David had a side job in the modeling industry. David had recently appeared naked with only his hands in front of his privates on the front of the Rolling Stone Magazine. Additionally, both David and Devin had been featured on Ellen sixteen times, and even starred in a few movies, both of which I was dragged by the ear to see with my mother, who had increasingly become obsessed with David Star's good looks. She even had his monthly nude calendar and a coffee mug with his face on it. Truly, this obsession was becoming a problem.

            David Star bothered me a lot more than his father. I was getting tired of the fact that he was portrayed as this angel-like figure on every inch of the media, yet rubbed off as arrogant and a womanizer to me. Any mistakes he made, such as abusing drugs or appearing drunk on camera, were covered up so quickly by his father's money, that it was as if it never happened. Regardless of his reckless behavior, the mere sound of his name made every girl in schools' ovaries spontaneously combust. I was sick and tired of the Star name. They could do anything they wanted and then buy everyone off if something went wrong. Even Devin Star, who was much calmer than his son and kept surprisingly to himself, had allegedly been caught speeding in his latest Lamborghini, and never got in trouble for it. Yes, I realize that I rubbed off as obsessive over the Star family, but the only reason I knew so much information about them was because my mother had a weekly subscription to every gossip magazine known to man-kind, and once in a while, I would admittedly give into the temptation.