Let's Burn Our Dreams Into the Skyline
Us, strange? Not at all.
“Welcome ladies and gentlemen, to the first annual staring contest of Chicago! Today’s contestants are Gabe Saporta and Sparky!”
“Alex, my dog’s name is not Sparky.” I rolled my eyes at him.
“It should be. Then you could be Spanky and your dog could be Sparky!” Linnea exclaimed.
“I’m Spanky? You gotta be kidding.” I spat.
“Spanky fits you.” Gabe agreed. “FUCK IT! You guys made me blink.” he finally broke his intense gaze with…my dog.
“Told you she’d win.” I said with a smirk. “I’d sit around for hours glaring at her in Jersey. The fucking dog never blinks.”
Gabe grunted out of defeat.
“What the hell do we do now?” Pete finally asked.
“Our homework?” Patrick suggested. Everyone looked at each other than busted up laughing. No one even asked if he was serious or not.
“Gabe has an idea!” the boy announced. If you had any brains in that head of yours, you’d be scared. Very scared.
“No drugs or sex at my house.” I pointed out before he said anything.
“Insanely funny, Miss Max.” he snarled.
“HAHA!” Linnea screeched, everyone looked at her strangely, “Miss Max… that sounds funny… ya’ know. Like an alliteration.” She said in a small voice.
“Well, okay then… I’ll tell you my real idea.” Gabe said. Be afraid, be very afraid.
“Which would be?” Alex sighed.
“Extreme pillow fighting.” Wait, did he just say what I thought he said? Is he like…kidding me?
“Gabe. You’re on crack. No.”
“Whose on crack?” My dear mother announced, walking in the door.
“It’s a joke, Mom.” Welcome to the world of the paranoid mother.
“If you say so.” She said in such a mom-like way “So who are your little friends?” Oh god. This couldn’t be good.
“Hello, Miss. I am Gabriel Saporta. I am going to be the father of your daughter’s baby.”
Way to put things perfectly, Gabe. Honestly.
“Oh.” My mother sighed. Gabe was just another freak for me to hang around with. She shook Gabe’s hand and then mumbled, “I just don’t want ugly grandchildren.” And walked away.
“Did…she…just say what…I thought she said?” Pete finally asked after a good five minutes of awkward silence.
“Yeah. She’s from the Jersey Scene too, you know.” Everyone rolled their eyes at me. Apparently I’m “obsessed” with the place.
“Well, now that we have parental supervision, I vote we move our sorry asses to the Wentz palace.” Alex announced, grabbing his sorry ass and all his shit off the floor. The rest of us soon followed.
“Goodbye, mother.” I groaned, right as I shut the door. I could practically hear the things breaking inside the house from me slamming the door too hard.
It was cold as fuck outside. It was somewhere in mid-December and the only thing that kept us motivated for school was the upcoming winter break. I’m sure we’d spend it all together, causing hell in some place.
As our little group, (or the “posse” as Gabe liked to call it) walked down the Chicago streets, we saw a billboard. Linnea started cracking up.
“Hey, Pete. Shouldn’t you be on that billboard?” She giggled, pointing to a huge sign that read, “We all have AIDS” and was decorated with “AIDS victims” (or models pretending to be AIDS victims, your choice).
“Linnea? Meet concrete. Concrete? Meet Linnea. You two should make great friends.” Pete spat as he shoved his sister into the asphalt. I don’t think it hurt that bad, because she was still laughing uncontrollably by the time we got her off the ground.
***
“WENTZ!” Stupid video game. Stupid mother fucking game. I hate you.
Linnea and Pete perked up. “Yeah?”
“Oh. Sorry. I was just screaming that ‘cause I was annoyed at this STUPID GAME!” I chucked the controller onto the floor and proceeded to beat on it furiously.
“So my family name reminds you of annoyance?” Linnea asked. I didn’t even have to answer, everyone else chimed in with an “Uh, YES.”
“Plus, Wentz is just a funny sounding name.” I giggled.
“Wentz.” Steph tested. She giggled , “It is rather fun, isn’t it?”
So, us being us, within minutes we were all engaged in the Wentz game.
“Wentz.”
“Wentz.”
“Wentzy Wentz Wentz.”
“Wentz Wentz McWentz.”
No. No. No. You're the weird one. All of this is perfectly normal.
Halfway through our little game, The Wentz mother returned home and looked at us oddly. Pete and Linnea (who for some odd reason, refused to take part in the Wentz game) just shook their heads and mouthed, “Don’t ask.” at her.
“Alex, my dog’s name is not Sparky.” I rolled my eyes at him.
“It should be. Then you could be Spanky and your dog could be Sparky!” Linnea exclaimed.
“I’m Spanky? You gotta be kidding.” I spat.
“Spanky fits you.” Gabe agreed. “FUCK IT! You guys made me blink.” he finally broke his intense gaze with…my dog.
“Told you she’d win.” I said with a smirk. “I’d sit around for hours glaring at her in Jersey. The fucking dog never blinks.”
Gabe grunted out of defeat.
“What the hell do we do now?” Pete finally asked.
“Our homework?” Patrick suggested. Everyone looked at each other than busted up laughing. No one even asked if he was serious or not.
“Gabe has an idea!” the boy announced. If you had any brains in that head of yours, you’d be scared. Very scared.
“No drugs or sex at my house.” I pointed out before he said anything.
“Insanely funny, Miss Max.” he snarled.
“HAHA!” Linnea screeched, everyone looked at her strangely, “Miss Max… that sounds funny… ya’ know. Like an alliteration.” She said in a small voice.
“Well, okay then… I’ll tell you my real idea.” Gabe said. Be afraid, be very afraid.
“Which would be?” Alex sighed.
“Extreme pillow fighting.” Wait, did he just say what I thought he said? Is he like…kidding me?
“Gabe. You’re on crack. No.”
“Whose on crack?” My dear mother announced, walking in the door.
“It’s a joke, Mom.” Welcome to the world of the paranoid mother.
“If you say so.” She said in such a mom-like way “So who are your little friends?” Oh god. This couldn’t be good.
“Hello, Miss. I am Gabriel Saporta. I am going to be the father of your daughter’s baby.”
Way to put things perfectly, Gabe. Honestly.
“Oh.” My mother sighed. Gabe was just another freak for me to hang around with. She shook Gabe’s hand and then mumbled, “I just don’t want ugly grandchildren.” And walked away.
“Did…she…just say what…I thought she said?” Pete finally asked after a good five minutes of awkward silence.
“Yeah. She’s from the Jersey Scene too, you know.” Everyone rolled their eyes at me. Apparently I’m “obsessed” with the place.
“Well, now that we have parental supervision, I vote we move our sorry asses to the Wentz palace.” Alex announced, grabbing his sorry ass and all his shit off the floor. The rest of us soon followed.
“Goodbye, mother.” I groaned, right as I shut the door. I could practically hear the things breaking inside the house from me slamming the door too hard.
It was cold as fuck outside. It was somewhere in mid-December and the only thing that kept us motivated for school was the upcoming winter break. I’m sure we’d spend it all together, causing hell in some place.
As our little group, (or the “posse” as Gabe liked to call it) walked down the Chicago streets, we saw a billboard. Linnea started cracking up.
“Hey, Pete. Shouldn’t you be on that billboard?” She giggled, pointing to a huge sign that read, “We all have AIDS” and was decorated with “AIDS victims” (or models pretending to be AIDS victims, your choice).
“Linnea? Meet concrete. Concrete? Meet Linnea. You two should make great friends.” Pete spat as he shoved his sister into the asphalt. I don’t think it hurt that bad, because she was still laughing uncontrollably by the time we got her off the ground.
***
“WENTZ!” Stupid video game. Stupid mother fucking game. I hate you.
Linnea and Pete perked up. “Yeah?”
“Oh. Sorry. I was just screaming that ‘cause I was annoyed at this STUPID GAME!” I chucked the controller onto the floor and proceeded to beat on it furiously.
“So my family name reminds you of annoyance?” Linnea asked. I didn’t even have to answer, everyone else chimed in with an “Uh, YES.”
“Plus, Wentz is just a funny sounding name.” I giggled.
“Wentz.” Steph tested. She giggled , “It is rather fun, isn’t it?”
So, us being us, within minutes we were all engaged in the Wentz game.
“Wentz.”
“Wentz.”
“Wentzy Wentz Wentz.”
“Wentz Wentz McWentz.”
No. No. No. You're the weird one. All of this is perfectly normal.
Halfway through our little game, The Wentz mother returned home and looked at us oddly. Pete and Linnea (who for some odd reason, refused to take part in the Wentz game) just shook their heads and mouthed, “Don’t ask.” at her.
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