Once again, I found myself laying on my bed, looking up at the ceiling, silently drifting into my subconscious. I knew why I did it, it was always done as a means of escape from reality, and I never enjoyed it because of that. I often wished that I was stupid enough as to not be aware that my daydreams were a coping mechanism. That way, I'd feel better about having them. My intelligence is a curse like that. I'm so fucking smart it HURTS.
Anyways, I'm laying here, thinking. I forget for a second what I'm thinking about. I usually like to think about better times, or about my future. Oh yeah! that's right! I'm thinking about my.... special occasion.... yes. Oh, I'm so exited. This revelation makes me so happy, I spring out of bed. The stupefying amount of pure ecstasy rushing through me rejuvenates my soul, and I fly out of my bedroom door. I drift into the kitchen, my eye suddenly meets my father's, and my feelings dissipate back into nothingness. My father is staring wide-eyed at me from the kitchen table, newspaper in hand. "...Hey Dad", I say. He puts his paper down to speak to me. "Son, I heard you jumping up & down in your room again. You want to tell me what's going on?" I say nothing. Responding to my silence, his gaze intensifies and he leans forward in his chair a little. He stays like this for maybe ten seconds or so and continues. "Well son, as you know, your mother and I are going out for a few days. You can do that all you want when we're gone, but not now, please, for the love of god...." Silence follows "Oh, and another thing, be sure to take care of the house while were gone, okay? we would tell you not to throw any parties but we know you don't have any friends so that's not going to happen." Again, I say nothing. "Okay... Well, I guess that means goodbye then." With that, he stands up, gives me a hug and heads out the door to the car; I saw that Mom was already in the car waiting. That's how all conversations with my parents go, them doing all the talking. The only person I really converse with anymore is the nice lady on the suicide prevention hotline.
With a smile on my face, I waved to my parents as they pulled out of the driveway, resulting in Mom giving me a harsh scowl. And just like that, I had ultimate freedom. I could do whatever I wanted, even my.... special occasion, but that would have to wait for nighttime. While I waited, I went through my daily motions: laying down, reading poetry, looking at photos of castles, and masturbating (no correlation to the castles). Finally, the clock struck 8PM. I noted that it was past my bedtime and sat up. It was time to prepare for my...special occasion. The first thing I had to do was set the table. I went to my closet and gathered all of my gothic memorabilia. I rummaged some more and found my high school yearbook. "Perfect", I said as I placed them; It really was perfect. I then poured some cranberry juice into my wine glass, the ultimate goth drink. I was finally ready for my.... special occasion. The yearbook was placed in the center of the kitchen table, surrounded by candles and miniature gargoyle statues. On the other side of the table was my stereo, playing little dark age by MGMT on loop. The way the candles lit up the dark kitchen mesmerized me and my expressed delight came out as a shrill little squeak noise. It was just so damn GOTHIC. I started crying and tearfully turned the pages of the yearbook. I saw the faces of all my former peers and supposed betters. My crying stopped and my face became stern. Just as I was about to begin, it started raining outside and I smirked. What I was going to do would be heinous, so I welcomed the atmosphere. I took my spell book from my coat pocket. I was going to curse my classmates. I was cursing them for not inviting me to parties, not listening to me, not being my friend, everything! While everyone else was partying I was on my computer learning the dark arts of witchcraft. I had successfully became a level 2 wizard by graduation, and was well prepared to instill curses. I was ready. I sat up from my chair and looked at the yearbook, one hand clutching the spell book, the other trembling above the open pages of my classmates. I opened my mouth and spoke. "What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in th-" *CRAAASSSH!!!*
A bolt of lightning came down, scorching the earth. This caused the window next to me to shatter, letting through a breeze that consequently put out my candles. The curse was now null and void. I sat down and cried, this time out of complete despair. I couldn't even do this right. I found myself crawling to the floor and getting into the fetal position, the sorrow building up in me was too much to resist. I let the darkness consume me, and for a moment, I forgot who I was and became the pure, physical embodiment of depression. I let out a wail, and was surprised when it was answered with a sharp "suck it up, sonny". With this I snapped out of my trance and looked in the source of the voice. My face still wet with tears, I screamed to the voice: "YOU BETTER SHOW YOURSELF. I HAVE A SPELL BOOK AND I'M NOT AFRAID TO USE IT!! " The kitchen light turned on, and I looked to see who was there. It was Mung Daal from the tv show Chowder. "Mung?! what are you doing in my house?!" He answered quickly, pointing towards me and saying "I'm here to rock your fucking world"
YOU ARE READING
Mung Rocks The House
Teen FictionThe all too familiar story of a man living with his parents, upset with his life. Mom and Dad have left for a bit, giving the man a day to himself, so he decides to spend his day wallowing in his own misery. When all seems to be going to plan, guess...
