Status: Updated every so often, I try to when I can
Signs Misleading to Nowhere
Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)
This is not a happy story, not in the least, so if that’s what you’re looking for, go fuckin’ find it somewhere else, ‘cause you wont find any of that retarded shit here, not one fuckin’ bit. This story is full of lies and deceit, drugs and booze, and any bad thing you most likely could think of. This story, well, it’s my story, mine and St. Jimmy’s, and it’s always needed to be told, it just never has, but I found my chance to do so, and I’m taking it. Buckle your seat-belts, kiddies, cause this is one fuckin’ wild ride, and I won’t slow down cause you pansies couldn’t handle the shit you’re about to learn from this tale, and not a piece or sentence of it is fake. See ya in the land of make-believe, unless, of course, you don’t believe in me?
~~~~~~~
“God fucking DAMMIT! I am sick of this! You sit around all day and night, and I will not have you leeching off this family any longer! I went down to the courthouse, and as of today, you are no longer a part of this family. “ That’s not true, I got out more then anybody here, but go on, keep exaggerating. I honestly don’t give a fuck what the hell you say about me, you bastard. I’m the only other one in this household with a job, beside you, jackass. Have fun in your strangeland, hope you die!
“Are you fuckin’ serious? Where the hell am I supposed to go? I’ll be some random, homeless teen on the street! Thanks sooo much, Daddy dearest,” the term of endearment was spoken with much malice and venom, causing my asshole, douche-bag of a father to flinch back, even though he was 6’2” and worked out three days a week at the local gym, and I was only 5’2” (point five) and only ran once or twice a week. Yeah, that just showed how kick-ass I am, but back onto the tonight’s wonderful topic.
“Well, that’s just too bad, isn’t it? Go find a place; you’re always talking about how you’re so independent! I want you gone before I get up tomorrow, or else I’ll call the cops.”
He kept on talking as I scoffed at what he said. Like the cops would do much. My favorite cousin was the chief of police, and absolutely adored me. I wouldn’t get arrested, not even if I got caught with fifty pounds of coke. Yeah, my cousin really loves me. Can’t say much for the rest of my family, though, they would’ve killed me, just to get rid of me. As a matter of fact, this didn’t surprise me one fuckin’ bit. I expected something like this would come, just not two days before my seventeenth birthday. Just wow.
“Shinia Rose Taylors! Are you even listening to me?“ was what snapped me out of my thoughts. Damn, he’s really annoying. Honest to god, I think I just might kill this bumbling old fool.
“Yeah, yeah, keep blathering old man; I really don’t give a flying rat’s ass, okay? I’m just gonna go pack, and get the fuck out, sound good? Alright, hope to never see you again, ass-hat.” And with that, I took my leave, my “father”, more like “sperm donor”, sputtering like a fool behind me at what I had called him. Well, this sucks. At least I have my car, and my Green Day stuff, and my guitar, and everything else I’m taking with me. I hoped this family burns, and soon.
I walked into my room, and just pause to take it in, ‘cause it’ll be the last time I ever see it. My bed over in corner lies just how I left it this morning, messy and unmade. My blue, green, and purple comforter lies strewn all over the place, just barely touching the blue lamp on my nightstand, and completely covering my alarm clock, hiding it from my sight. My gaze shifts to my many, many Green Day posters on my light royal purple walls, hopping from each on until my eyes land on my absolute favorite poster of all time. It’s got “Green Day” written across a darkish green background in white, slanted from corner to corner, and standing right below it are Mike, Billie Joe, and Tré, in that order, in black and white. In red, right at the bottom, it says “21st Century Breakdown”, their newest album. I don’t know why it’s my favorite, but it is. Oh, wait, maybe it’s because it’s signed by those very three men I was just talking about. Yep, I saw them in concert, and backstage, got that baby signed, and talked with the band for, like, ten minutes, no joke. They were fuckin’ amazing while playing, and even better to talk to.
My cuz, the very same one that is the chief of police, got the tickets and backstage passes for my sweet sixteen. He busted a druggie, and found them on him. While it was wrong (to him at least), he wanted to do something special for me, and voila! Off to see Green Day we go! Yeah, if you couldn’t tell before, I idolize Green Day, they’re just amazing like that. I mean, besides my fucked in the head family, who wouldn’t love them? My cousin, his wife, and my ex-best friend are really the only people I had ever met that at least knew, and somewhat liked Green Day. It’s just so sad that this amazing, famous, band in unknown by so many people in this shit town.
“I pledge allegiance to the underworld
One nation under dark
There of which I stand alone
A face in the crowd
Unsung, against the mold
Without a doubt
Singled out
The only way I know
'Cause I want to be the minority
I don't need your authority
Down with the moral majority
'Cause I want to be the minority!”
Billie Joe’s melodic voice, paired with Tré’s and Mike’s amazing instrumental gifts from god and all above rang out from my back pocket, causing me to smile and sing along as I slid my phone out and accepted the call, “Haushinka speaking, how may I piss you off this crap-fuckin-tastic day?” I said in the nicest, most sickly-sweet voice possible.
A sigh came thru the phone, then, “I guess they told you, huh? Sorry, I meant to call you earlier, before you got home, but I got call out to a double homicide scene. God, that was such a mess.”
“Eh, more liked shoved it in my face, and then threatened to call the fuckin’ popo on my ass. Like that would do much, I mean, you wouldn’t let anything happen to your favorite family member, now would you? On top of that, most of the guys love me, so they wouldn’t do much, if anything at all. And man, I wouldn’t want to be stuck with the report you have to write!”
Another sigh, then a chuckle, “Heh, you’re right. I guess that idiot of an uncle forgot that “little” fact. You know you’re welcome to stay at my place right? And yeah, this thing is a monster, it’s killin’ me.”
“I can’t do that to you, Paul, you’ve already got Jay and Emily to feed, with another on the way. And you know how I am, it’d be too much trouble and money, I love you guys to much to put you through that.” He might be chief of police, but that didn’t mean he made a lot of money. I might be a bitch, but when it came to Paul and his family, I’d go through the devil and God himself to help them, cause really, they’re the only family I have, especially now. They’re the only people beside myself that I love, and mean quite a bit to me.
I hear another sigh, and then muted talking; it must be Alice, his wife. One last sigh, and then he comes back to our conversation, “Alright, but if you need to just stay the night whenever, or need someone to come get you for any reason, call one of us, no matter what time it is, ya hear me?”
“Thanks Paul, it means a lot to me. Tell the family hi and that I love them for me k?”
“Will do, hun. I love you.”
“Love ya to, ya crazy old man.”
He protested, “I am not old!”
“I gotta go, have ta get packed and outta here before four thirty tomorrow. Bye Paul,” I said into the phone, already heading over to my bed and pulling out all my duffel bags and suitcases.
“Bye Shinka, don’t forget about my offer, k?”
“I won’t, see ya later.” And with that, I hung up my phone and went to my dresser. I started pulling out all my shirts, throwing them into the first bag I grabbed, my purple duffel with silver skulls hand-stitched on. Alice taught me how to sew a few years ago, and I love it. That’s what I had as a back-up plan, becoming a fashion designer, if photography didn’t work out.
Soon enough I had finished with my shirts, not forgetting the ones in my closet, and moved onto pants and undergarments, then shoes. Those all collectively took up two and a half bags, since I didn’t have many pairs of shoes or underwear. My CDs that weren’t Green Day went carefully into the bag with my shoes, swathed in some of my pillow cases just in case they get thrown around, cause I love my music, and I would hate to see any piece of my collection broken. My suitcase would hold all of my Green Day merchandise. I seem sort of obsessed, don’t I? Down came my posters, my favorite going in on top of everything else: a few t-shirts, a pair of shoes and underwear (from Alice, that was a really fuckin’ awkward conversation), all of their current albums, other posters, a flag, a video of the concert I went to, a belt, and a purse. About half of this I bought, and the other half I got from family (Paul) and friends.
Damn, I really seem obsessed. That’s just sad.
When I glanced at my alarm clock, it read 11:36, just twenty minutes over two hours after I started packing, and the perfect time to put my shit in the car, and give my former family a little surprise. They all went to bed before eleven, and Jon, my sperm donor, got up at four thirty to get ready for his work. Plenty of time to give my family a parting gift...
~~~~~~
At four fifteen, I walked out of former home and jumped into my car, turning it on, but not going anywhere. I sat there waiting for something to happen, then, not to long after, I glance at the car’s clock, “What the hell is this!” a pause, then “SHINIAAAAAAA! I’ll kill you, you little fucking whore!” Just like clockwork, routine is such a beautiful thing, no? Then multiple other wordless screams joined his.
Weeell then, I think it’s time to get outta this shit hole. Putting my idling Mustang into reverse, I backed down the drive and onto the street, and peeled away just as Jon came out with his double barrel 12 gauge, and fired, just barely missing my car, and hitting the one across the street. I laughed all the way down the street, and into the predawn light, his new haircut, shave, and “tattoos” to funny to not laugh at. Life might actually not be that bad, considering I was just released from hell, and into the world, free to do whatever I want and raise hell. Life is sweet…
~~~~~~~
“God fucking DAMMIT! I am sick of this! You sit around all day and night, and I will not have you leeching off this family any longer! I went down to the courthouse, and as of today, you are no longer a part of this family. “ That’s not true, I got out more then anybody here, but go on, keep exaggerating. I honestly don’t give a fuck what the hell you say about me, you bastard. I’m the only other one in this household with a job, beside you, jackass. Have fun in your strangeland, hope you die!
“Are you fuckin’ serious? Where the hell am I supposed to go? I’ll be some random, homeless teen on the street! Thanks sooo much, Daddy dearest,” the term of endearment was spoken with much malice and venom, causing my asshole, douche-bag of a father to flinch back, even though he was 6’2” and worked out three days a week at the local gym, and I was only 5’2” (point five) and only ran once or twice a week. Yeah, that just showed how kick-ass I am, but back onto the tonight’s wonderful topic.
“Well, that’s just too bad, isn’t it? Go find a place; you’re always talking about how you’re so independent! I want you gone before I get up tomorrow, or else I’ll call the cops.”
He kept on talking as I scoffed at what he said. Like the cops would do much. My favorite cousin was the chief of police, and absolutely adored me. I wouldn’t get arrested, not even if I got caught with fifty pounds of coke. Yeah, my cousin really loves me. Can’t say much for the rest of my family, though, they would’ve killed me, just to get rid of me. As a matter of fact, this didn’t surprise me one fuckin’ bit. I expected something like this would come, just not two days before my seventeenth birthday. Just wow.
“Shinia Rose Taylors! Are you even listening to me?“ was what snapped me out of my thoughts. Damn, he’s really annoying. Honest to god, I think I just might kill this bumbling old fool.
“Yeah, yeah, keep blathering old man; I really don’t give a flying rat’s ass, okay? I’m just gonna go pack, and get the fuck out, sound good? Alright, hope to never see you again, ass-hat.” And with that, I took my leave, my “father”, more like “sperm donor”, sputtering like a fool behind me at what I had called him. Well, this sucks. At least I have my car, and my Green Day stuff, and my guitar, and everything else I’m taking with me. I hoped this family burns, and soon.
I walked into my room, and just pause to take it in, ‘cause it’ll be the last time I ever see it. My bed over in corner lies just how I left it this morning, messy and unmade. My blue, green, and purple comforter lies strewn all over the place, just barely touching the blue lamp on my nightstand, and completely covering my alarm clock, hiding it from my sight. My gaze shifts to my many, many Green Day posters on my light royal purple walls, hopping from each on until my eyes land on my absolute favorite poster of all time. It’s got “Green Day” written across a darkish green background in white, slanted from corner to corner, and standing right below it are Mike, Billie Joe, and Tré, in that order, in black and white. In red, right at the bottom, it says “21st Century Breakdown”, their newest album. I don’t know why it’s my favorite, but it is. Oh, wait, maybe it’s because it’s signed by those very three men I was just talking about. Yep, I saw them in concert, and backstage, got that baby signed, and talked with the band for, like, ten minutes, no joke. They were fuckin’ amazing while playing, and even better to talk to.
My cuz, the very same one that is the chief of police, got the tickets and backstage passes for my sweet sixteen. He busted a druggie, and found them on him. While it was wrong (to him at least), he wanted to do something special for me, and voila! Off to see Green Day we go! Yeah, if you couldn’t tell before, I idolize Green Day, they’re just amazing like that. I mean, besides my fucked in the head family, who wouldn’t love them? My cousin, his wife, and my ex-best friend are really the only people I had ever met that at least knew, and somewhat liked Green Day. It’s just so sad that this amazing, famous, band in unknown by so many people in this shit town.
“I pledge allegiance to the underworld
One nation under dark
There of which I stand alone
A face in the crowd
Unsung, against the mold
Without a doubt
Singled out
The only way I know
'Cause I want to be the minority
I don't need your authority
Down with the moral majority
'Cause I want to be the minority!”
Billie Joe’s melodic voice, paired with Tré’s and Mike’s amazing instrumental gifts from god and all above rang out from my back pocket, causing me to smile and sing along as I slid my phone out and accepted the call, “Haushinka speaking, how may I piss you off this crap-fuckin-tastic day?” I said in the nicest, most sickly-sweet voice possible.
A sigh came thru the phone, then, “I guess they told you, huh? Sorry, I meant to call you earlier, before you got home, but I got call out to a double homicide scene. God, that was such a mess.”
“Eh, more liked shoved it in my face, and then threatened to call the fuckin’ popo on my ass. Like that would do much, I mean, you wouldn’t let anything happen to your favorite family member, now would you? On top of that, most of the guys love me, so they wouldn’t do much, if anything at all. And man, I wouldn’t want to be stuck with the report you have to write!”
Another sigh, then a chuckle, “Heh, you’re right. I guess that idiot of an uncle forgot that “little” fact. You know you’re welcome to stay at my place right? And yeah, this thing is a monster, it’s killin’ me.”
“I can’t do that to you, Paul, you’ve already got Jay and Emily to feed, with another on the way. And you know how I am, it’d be too much trouble and money, I love you guys to much to put you through that.” He might be chief of police, but that didn’t mean he made a lot of money. I might be a bitch, but when it came to Paul and his family, I’d go through the devil and God himself to help them, cause really, they’re the only family I have, especially now. They’re the only people beside myself that I love, and mean quite a bit to me.
I hear another sigh, and then muted talking; it must be Alice, his wife. One last sigh, and then he comes back to our conversation, “Alright, but if you need to just stay the night whenever, or need someone to come get you for any reason, call one of us, no matter what time it is, ya hear me?”
“Thanks Paul, it means a lot to me. Tell the family hi and that I love them for me k?”
“Will do, hun. I love you.”
“Love ya to, ya crazy old man.”
He protested, “I am not old!”
“I gotta go, have ta get packed and outta here before four thirty tomorrow. Bye Paul,” I said into the phone, already heading over to my bed and pulling out all my duffel bags and suitcases.
“Bye Shinka, don’t forget about my offer, k?”
“I won’t, see ya later.” And with that, I hung up my phone and went to my dresser. I started pulling out all my shirts, throwing them into the first bag I grabbed, my purple duffel with silver skulls hand-stitched on. Alice taught me how to sew a few years ago, and I love it. That’s what I had as a back-up plan, becoming a fashion designer, if photography didn’t work out.
Soon enough I had finished with my shirts, not forgetting the ones in my closet, and moved onto pants and undergarments, then shoes. Those all collectively took up two and a half bags, since I didn’t have many pairs of shoes or underwear. My CDs that weren’t Green Day went carefully into the bag with my shoes, swathed in some of my pillow cases just in case they get thrown around, cause I love my music, and I would hate to see any piece of my collection broken. My suitcase would hold all of my Green Day merchandise. I seem sort of obsessed, don’t I? Down came my posters, my favorite going in on top of everything else: a few t-shirts, a pair of shoes and underwear (from Alice, that was a really fuckin’ awkward conversation), all of their current albums, other posters, a flag, a video of the concert I went to, a belt, and a purse. About half of this I bought, and the other half I got from family (Paul) and friends.
Damn, I really seem obsessed. That’s just sad.
When I glanced at my alarm clock, it read 11:36, just twenty minutes over two hours after I started packing, and the perfect time to put my shit in the car, and give my former family a little surprise. They all went to bed before eleven, and Jon, my sperm donor, got up at four thirty to get ready for his work. Plenty of time to give my family a parting gift...
~~~~~~
At four fifteen, I walked out of former home and jumped into my car, turning it on, but not going anywhere. I sat there waiting for something to happen, then, not to long after, I glance at the car’s clock, “What the hell is this!” a pause, then “SHINIAAAAAAA! I’ll kill you, you little fucking whore!” Just like clockwork, routine is such a beautiful thing, no? Then multiple other wordless screams joined his.
Weeell then, I think it’s time to get outta this shit hole. Putting my idling Mustang into reverse, I backed down the drive and onto the street, and peeled away just as Jon came out with his double barrel 12 gauge, and fired, just barely missing my car, and hitting the one across the street. I laughed all the way down the street, and into the predawn light, his new haircut, shave, and “tattoos” to funny to not laugh at. Life might actually not be that bad, considering I was just released from hell, and into the world, free to do whatever I want and raise hell. Life is sweet…
♠ ♠ ♠
Tell me wat'cha think, should I continue? oh, and it'd be nice if somebody could tell me how to get the freakin' italics to work, I'd appreciate it.So, if you decide to drop a comment, tell me your favorite Green Day album!
Mine's either Dookie, or 21st Century Breakdown