A Rock Opera.

I awoke slowly from my drunken state. It was dark - as though it was early evening. I must have fallen asleep for a few hours, although the house was still quiet.

I rose from my bed, my head aching. My eyes burnt everytime I moved them; my muscles were stiffer than I had ever felt them before; and my head pounded like the beat of a drum. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I could hear noise from outside.

Mum and Brad had arrived home.

I quickly pulled on my jacket and grabbed my shoes. Sprinting out the back door through the laundry, I breathed a sigh of relief once I was outside. I couldn't possibly stand being near my arrogant stepfather - or my mum.

My head continued to ache as I made my way to the 7-11.

I fumbled around in my pocket for some cash. I was really hungry. All that drinking had made me feel like a starving child.

Walking into the store, I felt the warmth blast my face, causing my head to ache all over again. I hastily bought a packet of chips and walked back outside into the cool air. I sat in the gutter and looked toward the horizon. The sun was slowly setting, casting a brilliant glow across the sky. The first stars glittered through the light haze above my head. In the distance I could see the lights of San Francisco reflect up into the clouds.

After all that drinking it was no wonder I had to go to the toilet. I scrunched the chip packet into a ball and chucked it onto the road. I walked round the back of the store to where the single bathroom was located.

'I read the graffiti in the bathroom stall
Like the holy scriptures of the shopping mall...'

The walls of the bathroom were covered in brightly coloured graffiti. Closing the door behind me, I began to scrutinise the writing closely. The walls were like a huge work of art.

I noticed small but bright red writing scribbled above the sink. Bending my head closer, I tried the decipher what the author had written.

'And so it seemed to confess...
It didn't say much but it only confirmed that - '

"The centre of the earth is the end of the world," I murmured to myself. These words were so true, I realised...but how were people ever going to understand what they meant?

But I could really care less...

But I really couldn't care less. I finished up in the bathroom and made my way home.

--

Sure enough, as I entered our front yard there was shouting coming from inside. I hummed peacefully to myself and opened the front door.

"Where the fuck is he? That little son of a bitch has stolen my drink - "

I wonder if he realised that me being the son of a bitch made his wife the bitch.

"I don't fucking know, Brad! He must've - "

This was even better. I was the subject of their bitter fighting. Ah, life was ever so sweet. I casually made my way across the living room, acting as though no one could see or hear me.

"You!" Brad roared, coming out of the kitchen, his facepurple with rage. My mum followed behind him.

"Where?" I asked innocently, looking behind me in mock confusion.

"Don't be smart with me, you little son of a - "

"Or what? You gonna call the cops? I'll just tell them how you abuse me..." I began to fake sobbing.

"Don't you dare talk to your father like that!" my mother screamed, stepping from behind Brad and pointing her finger threateningly at me.

"My father? If I was fucking related to that jerk, I would bleed all his blood out from my body in order to have nothing like him!" My fists balled up at my sides as the adrenalin began to pump through my veins.

"Where have you been all day? We've been - "

"Worried sick? Desperate to know where I am? Or were you both getting pissed?" I snorted with laughter. "EVERYONE IS SO FULL OF SHIT! You have no fucking idea, do you? Neither of you love me, and you know it! You're happy making nothing out of your lives: drinking, smoking, fighting...you can't raise me to be like that! To cater for your every fucking whim! You're hypocrites, each and everyone of you. And you're trying to make the world happy by sitting on your arses and doing nothing."

I was on a roll now.