September 22, 2004

Alls well that ends well... I think...

     Okay. I'm making sylvia.kitkorp.com tommorow. and here's my story. Yes! Yes! I know it's horrible! No! It doesn't have any basis in reality! No, I'm not going to kill myself! Just take it damnit before I decide not to cop out!

Suicide
By Kit Sczudlo

     I got up. Just like every morning. The alarm wasn’t quite ready to go off. Nowadays, it didn’t really matter weather or not the alarm was on or off, it didn’t wake me up. I rolled out of bed, unprepared for another day. I got up and turned off the alarm before it went off. God I hate that noise. Like the screeching of a thousand crows at once, it drilled into your mind, it tore at you sanity. No one likes their alarms. They are there to disturb one of the greatest things you can experience, dreams.

     Dreams, I wish I knew what they were like. I never have dreams anymore. Sleep, for me, is flying through an endless void of darkness, thinking of the future, where everyone dies. Time waits for no man they say. The only things I ever remember from my sleep are the horrible nightmares that I have. Nightmare of what’s to come and of what will be. Nightmares of a post-apocalyptic future where no one is happy. People are sightless wrecks who were destroyed by their own negligence. That’s the only reprise I get from my dreams, the people always brought it upon themselves. Bastards, I hate them all.

     I walked to my dresser and pulled out some clothes. It didn’t matter if they matched, no one pays any attention to me nowadays anyway. I stumbled my way to the bathroom where I went pee like I do every morning.

     “Hurry the fuck up Kit! You’re going to make us late again god damnit!” Mom screeched from the kitchen.

     “JESUS CHRIST MOM GIMME A MINUTE WILL YOU?” She was always doing that. She only thinks of herself. She doesn’t care about me. No one does. I got my shoes on and went downstairs and got my backpack together. I heard a honk from outside, bitch… she didn’t even wait for me. I walked out side while mom continued to honk the car.

     “KEEP IT DOWN WIIL YA?!” Yelled our neighbor. He was such a dick. The only time he ever talked to me was to tell me what a fuck up I was and how I looked like an idiot in those baggy pants and long shirt. I got in the car. Mom turned on the usual liberal trash. The radio just wouldn’t shut up about how horrible the world was: “WAR IN IRAQ, BUDGET DEFICIT, BUSH IS A FAILURE, ECONOMY FAILING, etc…” Man, the liberal radio’s good for one thing, depressing me.

     I walk into school after my usual “try not to fail today” from my mom. Bitch, she doesn’t care if I fail. The people there are always so annoying, they push and shove without so much as an excuse me. Like sheep, or rats in a maze. All scurrying to get to a prize that only one can achieve. Being rich. Ha! HAHAHAHAHAHA! Well, one out of a million might make it, but even then, they’ll get tired of a perfect life and kill themselves, it’s just the way it goes. I get to my class, it’s first period, I sit laid back with my feet on the chair in front of me, there’s not many people in this class and there’s a lot of desks.

     “Mr. Sczudlo, and I do use the term ‘Mr.’ lightly,” my teacher said with a hint of anger in her voice, “would you care to answer the next question?”

     “Fuck you. I don’t have to learn anything in this shit school,” Ha, I though of that line on my own. I’m not some punk who just steals all his lines from movies and TV. The teacher told us we could work on homework for the rest of class, I got up and walked out, I didn’t need to do my homework anyway, I didn’t care if I failed the class.

     I walked outside and took a breather. I didn’t need anymore of that teacher’s crap. I pulled out my smokes and my CD player. I had my regular choice of System of a Down inside. I jacked it up till it was so loud I couldn’t her the bells, or anything else. The rest of the world was silent outside my music. It was qued up to Deer Dance, a song about a group of kids who pushed around a group of adults with assault weapons. It was a good tune. Sometimes I wish I could do that, just come in and start shooting. But I couldn’t buy guns on my own and mom wouldn’t get one for me. Bitch, she didn’t care about me.

     I flicked out the last off my cigarette with the last words of Deer Dance echoing in my ears, my first period class was over. I decided I may as well head for my second period class. It wasn’t that I cared, it’s just that this girl was there. She was awesome. I wanted to see her.

     I walked through the school. The other kids backed away from me as I walked towards my next class with more music playing. They all had the same idea in their head. The one those capitalist fuckers from way up high put there. “He’s a bad egg,” they’d say, “Don’t go near him, he’ll corrupt you.” They all believed that kind of trash. Like if I got too close, I’d pass some disease that would change them into little clones of myself. Delusional bastards. I walked up the stairs. The bell rang, I was late.

     I walked into my next class. It was some stupid art class. I saw the girl I was into on the other side of the room. We started drawing, the teacher wanted us to draw fruit or some such bullshit, my grim reaper looked much cooler. The teacher walked over, took one look and my paper and walked away. She cared in the beginning, but she stopped once she realized that I didn’t give a shit less about her class. She sometimes would give me D’s saying that despite the fact that my art was off-topic, it was drawn well enough to pass. Bitch, I didn’t need her generosity.

     The class was dull, and after it was done I walked out of the class. She was so pretty, I waited outside the door for her to come by. I saw her starting to come through the door and she walked by with her little posse.

     “Hey,” I said casually as she walked by. She stopped dead in her tracks and looked at me.

     “Like you’d ever have a chance with me goth-boy?” She said in her preppy little high-pitch voice, “As-if! Go find some fat chick to pork.” Her little posse giggled and walked away with her as she continued to stride away. My heart skipped a beat. Bitch, wouldn’t go out with me. Hell, shouldn’t even talk to me. I walked away, from the class, from the girl, from everything. My eyes blurred at the side I was crying.

     It tunneled my vision, I’d forgotten what it was like to cry. I walked out the school, out of the rat maze that held all the stupid bastards who kept up the illusion that they could achieve greatness. Ha. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I was laughing. Laughing at this… this futility. It didn’t matter, I wasn’t going to be the one to achieve this greatness, I was going to be the one who kept up his tortured artist routine long enough to get to the street corner. I was going to fail. Nothing was ever going to go my way. This was the end…

     Sigh. I hope that son of mine hasn’t screwed up too much today. My cell rang out of my purse. I pulled it out.

     “Hello?”

     “Yes… Ms. Berry?”

     “This is she, may I ask who’s calling?”

     “Yes, this is the security officer from the school, I’m calling to inform you that your son did not come to any of his classes after period two. Do you have any idea where he is?”

     Sigh… “No, I’m sorry, I don’t, I’m on my way home, he’ll come back there eventually.”

     “All right, thank you for your time mam.”

     “No problem.” Sigh… He was doing it again. Getting into fights, not showing up for class. God… Kit, what do I have to do to make you do you work? I pulled up to the house and put the car in park. I walked up to the house. The door was open. Maybe Kit was home? Ugh, he didn’t even try to run away this time.

     “KIIIIIIIITTTT!!!!!!” No answer. Guess I’ll check around. I went up to his room and turned on the lights. No one. It always scared me to see his room. He looked like he belonged to an occult he had so many posters for the punk rockers he listened to. They all looked like they were dying, shells of men. Odd colored eyes and pale skin. They all looked dead… I walked over to the bathroom and opened the door. Blood was puddle at the base of the door. I raised my eyes slowly, and I saw Kit, in a pool of his own blood, with a CD player looped on a song screaming no remorse.

Posted by Kickmyassman at September 22, 2004 11:08 PM
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