Should I continue this? My try at a very pathetic high school drama..Mibbians to the rescue!!

Hi guys.

While going through my overloaded, and disarrange creative writing folder, I found this short snippet of something I wrote a while back. I would like to know if it actually made you laugh, because if it doesn't I don't know if its worth continuing. Or, just tell me if you stopped reading halfway because you got distracted, were bored, or the story was just plain stupid. Rescue me??

XOXO
~ Lyra

Her Royal Highness Jane Baker, Queen of Drama:

Chapter 1: Introductions

It is held as an ever-present and undisputed belief that even the most extraordinary things in life, if repeated enough times, eventually become dull and monotonous. For example, if Santa decided to work overtime and give presents every day, the ritualistic magic of Christmas (and I am not only talking about the presents here) would cease to be, well, magical. For almost all people this statement is true. However, for a girl like Jane Baker it was not.

Well, let me first tell you about Jane. On the outside, she was extraordinarily average. An average height brunette, with average straight hair and average brown eyes, much like plenty of other girls in James Davidson High in rural Georgia. Even her name was the most ordinary name to be found in the history of names. Jane. Baker… She was plainly Jane.

But, on the inside, she was a playwright, an artist, a musician, a varsity athlete, a rebel, an angel, and (of course) a teenager. Life with her was like living with a crazed monkey. You didn’t know if it would hug you, or bite you on the butt.

Ok! So, by now you must be wondering who is the idiot that keeps rambling on and on about an ordinary Drama Queen. I am Tanya Gupta, Official Royal Best Friend. Now compared to Jane, I am the complete opposite, a little different on the outside, but royally dull on the inside. If you haven’t guessed by now, I am Indian. Thus, I inherited the awkward, frizzy hair that frames my face and the ample body structure (to clarify, I am not fat, just a little chubby). I also have brown-black eyes, which I like to pretend is the color of chocolate. My skin is a tan color, smack-dab in between the pale Caucasian and the chocolate-colored Aftican American, which would have made me the color of light hardwood floors, or probably more accurately like a pinkish school desk. On the inside, I am shy, conservative, and (I’m not bragging) smart. Most times, I wished I wasn’t the last because it seems like life would be a lot more fun if I wasn’t look upon as this geeky tenth grader who is too busy reading the next chapter of Biology to be asked to the school dance (which is one month away). However, getting good grades was like a mantra that had been chanted by my parents into my subconscious brain. They can assure you that without proper formal education I would be yelling ‘would you like fries with that’ outside a drive-through window. Anyway, let’s continue.

James Davidson High was a typical high school. It seemed to me that every corner of the school was dripping with ordinary, save the large rat problem that prevented us from even chewing gum in class (once, after winter break of ninth grade, a young English teacher walked into her class room and found a rat who had starved while stuck to a piece of gum). Everyone in my high school belonged to distinct cliques. There were the stereotypical cheerleaders, who cheered L-O-S-E-R to every girl who wasn’t a cheerleader (this was quite scary in the girl’s bathroom). There were the Jocks, who wolfed down everything edible in sight, including half-eaten sandwiches and Mystery Meat. There were the Bad Boys and Girls, who dressed like the next rappers on MTV, and usually hung out in the parking lot, blaring music from car stereos. There was the group of “Asians” which had become so large that I felt they deserved a group of their own. There were also the overachievers, the computer nerds, the perverts, the depressed emos, the “Creatives,” the “Orch” dorks, the Band geeks, and just the plain creepy group of kids who I believe spent more time talking to fictitious characters in space than actual people.

The rest of the school was comprised of only a few people, most notably, Jane, and the kid who spoke only fluent Russian. Since Jane was one of them, so was I. But then again, I was only ever “Jane Baker’s best friend,” and of no significance to anyone but her. Not that I cared much because life was rarely dull when the royally narcotic Jane was around. She loves attention, no matter what kind. She loved going around in homemade costumes like every day was Halloween. Her favorite was going around like Elizabeth Swan, frequently saying, “If you like torture, try wearing a bloody corset!”