Stalking Charlie

Ugh, I'm so tired, but I suppose I must write something so I don't keep people in the dark.

Last week was uneventful until Friday came. Hopefully one would remember Dana - you know, the creepy over-pierced chick that went with us to the concert earlier this month? She has this band, called Eating Spiders, and I suppose it's pretty good. Sure, people come to watch them play and all. I'm just not sure if the random people who come for coffee at her dad's personal Internet cafe' count or not. I mean, people need their cheap coffee in the morning ( assuming they're not getting their fix with a million dollars and a super mocha latte frapuchino heart attack in a cup from Starbucks ) That doesn't mean they came to hear "Eating Spiders" specifically. But hey.

Anyhow, I guess I can admit they're alright. They scream and wail and bang on pots and wear funny clothes when they perform. Thing is, they had some midday show at the cafe' last Friday while Charlie, Cindy, and I were enjoying the last day of the school week by swabbing muck from the hallway floors. Cindy was a stick in the mud; always moping and complaining and casting dirty glances at me. Charlie, though, was beginning to be good company. She told me her friends all thought she was mad for talking to me after what she said I did to her. They, like me, even questioned her new change of face. I've come to live with it, but still, I'm suspicious.

Anyways, Charlie had ideas of her own that day. At her suggestion, the two of us snuck out of the school the first moment we could, when the janitor supervising us announced that he had to take a piss. Maybe locking him in the staff bathroom with a chair was too far, but we sure got a kick out of it. I bet we got a couple minute's head start before Cindy Hayes got all high and mighty and let him loose.

At the cafe', Charlie and I got some oatmeal cookies and became part of a crowd of two as we watched Dana and her band do injustice to the hearing world with their noise.

After that, Charlie had another bright idea. We walked home - it wasn't too far, it is a small, stupid town afterall - and climbed to the tree house in her backyard. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but sitting on top of a tree in a dusty, nine-year-old tree house that hasn't been used and was sagging beneath the branches, is usually not a good idea. I protested, yes I did. I was even about to hop the little wire fence and go home, but something that day had overcome me. Maybe it was the incredibly cheap, incredibly delicious secret ingredients of those oameal cookies. I am ashamed to say that I climbed that damn tree.

I fell soon after. The wooden "floor" did not feel like holding the extra weight and the loose boards cracked, sending my scary ass tumbling all the way to the ground again.

I popped my ankle out of place.

My dad said it was no big deal after he took me to see the doctor, but I swear they must have overlooked something. My foot has swollen to the size of a small cantaloupe. It's purple and bruised and....veiny. My toes look like fat little sausages stuck inside a ball of rancid, radioactive hamburger meet. I can't even put my left shoe on anymore!

Upon request I won't have to go to school until the swelling goes down. ( I know it hurts like nothing else, but I occasionally hit my foot against the edge of my dresser to prolong my newfound vacation time. ) I'm stuck in the house with nothing to do but play video games and draw comics - I'll have to show you guys sometime come to think of it.

I won't let Charlie anywhere near my house anymore. She came to the door, asking my dad if she could see me, but I yelled down from my room upstairs that I wasn't interested. I just don't feel like talking I guess.

- Max