Monday, April 26, 2004

Something different
Because I'm really too busy to present you with detailed, well-thought posts, (relative terms, of course), I'd like to present you with my personal work of art, the Sol Chronicles. some of you may have seen this before.

It's unfinished, but up to 60+ pages. I plan to work on it more after exams.

Part 1

Simon knew who was shoving him before he even hit the ground. There was only one suspect, actually. As he crashed to the ground, he was already preparing to right himself and get into the inevitable altercation. Getting back to his feet, he turned around and sighed as his suspicions were confirmed.

“Well,” he said sarcastically to the aggressor. “Why am I not surprised it’s you, Brooks?”

Matthew Brooks, six foot three, wearing a varsity football jacket, was the perfect image of the obnoxious jock. His parents were rich and irresponsible, the later trait having been passed on to their offspring. Brooks took special pleasure in making Simon’s life a living Hell, and took to the task with a work ethic he applied to little else, least of all his studies.

Next to Brooks was his best friend/crony, Tyler Stevens. Tyler was the second best player on the football team, the second most popular jock, and the second dumbest kid in the school. Brooks had first place in all those categories, and it seemed that Stevens was destined to be a second banana for the rest of his life. So he did the only smart thing produce in that position could do: hang out with the top banana. Stevens himself really had no problem with Simon personally, but the second banana never makes diplomatic policy.

“Hey there, Goth geek,” Brooks sneered. “Did you have fun on your trip?”

“Yeah,” Stevens snickered. “Wanna’ go again?”

“Wow,” Simon said, deadpan. “You guys thought that up all by yourselves. Want a cookie?”

Brooks laughed, an irritating bray. “That’s what I love about you, Simon. No matter what, you’re still an annoying prick!”

“It’s all you’re good for,” Stevens confirmed.

Simon sighed and rolled his eyes. “Well, glad I could help. And you know, I’d love to continue this conversation, because it’s really fascinating. I mean, I didn’t know anyone actually could be dumber that dirt. But I really have to go…”

“Hey,” Brooks grabbed Simon’s shoulder. “I didn’t say you could go yet!”

Simon yanked his shoulder away. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know I had to ask Mommy permission to go anywhere.”

Brooks glared. “Watch yourself, Simon. Don’t forget where you are in the food chain.”

Simon knew he was treading on thin ice, but his anger overtook his caution. “You moron, can you even spell ‘food chain’?”

Brooks nodded slightly to Stevens. Stevens stepped behind Simon and gabbed his arms. Brooks began to pummel Simon with a series of blows to the stomach. Simon felt queasy.

After a minute, Brooks stopped and Stevens let him fall to his knees. Simon fell to the ground, reminded of his lunch in a most unpleasant manner. “See?” Brooks gloated. “This is what happens when punk-ass guys like you start thinkin’ they’re somethin’ special. You’re just a loser, got it?”

“Aww,” Stevens crooned. “You hurt his feelings! He doesn’t have a smart-ass reply!”

“Actually,’ Simon groaned. “I have one…”

“What, hot shot?”

Simon grinned up at Brooks. “I just puked all over your shoes.”

Stevens looked down. “Matt, he ain’t lyin’. Your Nikes are all gross and stuff.”

Brooks looked down too. “Damn it! Come on,” he gestured to Stevens. “I gotta’ go home and change.” For good measure, Brooks kicked Simon before leaving.

“Later, loser!” he laughed as he and Stevens walked off.

Later loser? Simon thought. Wow, did you think that one up all by yourself? He got to his feet and brushed himself off, the nasty taste of bile fresh in his throat. Damn jocks, he thought bitterly.

He continued his walk home, then stopped suddenly. Across the street was the image of perfection and goodness, but She went by the name of Susan Hawkins. Simon sighed. Susan was a girl he’d known ever since he’d lived in this town, and She was the only human being he didn’t find repulsive in some manner. While others might say She was pretty, Simon would say She was beautiful. Not because of Her looks, which casual observers would describe merely as “cute”, but because She possessed a trait almost unknown in most other people: She was actually nice to Simon.

It would be going a bit too far to say the two were friends, though Simon would have given his right arm for it to be true. If you asked Her, She would say they were, in fact, friends, but She was one of those people who wanted to be friends with everyone, and Simon knew it. He could actually try to form a real friendship with Her, but he held Her in such high standards that She intimidated the heck out of him. He thought he might love Her, but he knew at least he was infatuated with Her. For a couple of high school juniors, the difference was minimal. Simon could at least claim his attraction to Her was purely mental and emotional, and he would be right; he did not lust for Her.

A wild thought suddenly hit Simon like a truck ramming an armadillo: maybe he could go up to Her and ask Her out. On a date?! With Her?! Was he mad?

“…what do I have to loose?” he asked himself. The answer: not a thing. If he could pull it off without passing out, he’d be proud. The worst that could happen was that She could say “no”, in which case he would simply go home and forget the whole thing. It was a win-win scenario.

Jay-walking across the street, Simon inhaled deeply, then called out, “Susan!” At least, that’s what he meant to call out. It got caught in his throat in the last minute, so all that could be heard was a sound similar to a gag. Susan kept walking, not having heard a thing.

Damn, she’s leaving! Simon thought, panicked. I’ve got to get it right this time! He counted down in his head. “Three, two, one…”

“Hey, Susan!” She stopped and turned around. Yes! He thought. Wait…now what do I do?

She smiled at him, Her perfect white teeth gleaming. “Hey, Simon!” She said. “What’s up?”

To say Simon had butterflies in his stomach would have been a very large understatement. It would have been more appropriate to say that Simon had Mothra’s family reunion in his stomach, and they’d stated a game of Battle Tag.

“Hey, uh, hi!” he said, feeling stupid. “Hey, you know, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to see the new Bond flick…with me…you know…”

That’s it?! He demanded of himself. That’s the best you could do?! That’s it, you’re screwed!

“Thanks, you’re sweet,” She said, still smiling. “But I’m going to be busy all weekend. I’m sorry.”

As the entire Mothra family simultaneously burst into flames, Simon tried to keep his cool. “Sure, no prob. I understand.”

“Okay.” She smiled again. “See you Monday! Oh, wait, take one of these.” She handed Simon a purple flier; it was an advertisement for some event at her church.

“Thanks,” he said, not even looking at it.

“Bye!” She waved, walking away. Simon waved back weakly.

“See ya’…”

__
The entire walk home might not even have happened. It was as though Simon had been standing there, watching Susan walk away one minute, and the next he had been on his doorstep. All that was in-between was a horribly morbid self-examination that left him oblivious to his outside surroundings; he was lucky not to have been struck by a car.

The question of the hour was, of course, why Susan hadn’t said yes. Was She really busy? Was She just blowing him off? Was he too upfront? Did She think it was a date? Would it have been a date? Hey, did he even know if She had a boyfriend?

The most important question remained: did he just screw up the only chance he might have had to go out with Her?

These questions were at the forefront of the young man’s mind as he entered his humble abode. However, up until now, the audience has know almost nothing of Simon; not his name, his appearance, his history, or anything else useful in forming any sort of opinion on him or his character. A closer examination is in order.

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