[Winter Contest Entry 2015] The Juvenile Ramblings

Ezlare · 2015-12-29T04:19:56-01:00

Loosely based off a heated conversation I had with a former counselor years ago. It's literally skull and bones, but whatever. Here it is. Enjoy. Spoiler:What was the point of anything, anymore? Was something I often thought– and usually voiced– in my lonely nights, trapped in the prison of my dorm. Why the fuck am I still putting up with this charade? I’m not happy. It’s obvious, plain as day. And yet, I still bother to let my body wake itself up, drag myself out of my uneven-ass bed– that still continues to prick me with it’s springs, mind you– and commute to the house I swore that I would never set foot in again. My counselor– the man forced upon me by the school like a baby and a rape victim– eyed me with a look most earnest, almost quirking his brows. “Do you really think that way? I mean– it’s your family, Bigby. Speaking as a father myself, and not as a counselor for the moment, you should love them unconditionally.” I scoffed almost before he could finish his sentence. “Yeah? Well I wouldn’t be here, swallowing my own debt like a lamenting porn star.” Taken aback, the older man had to take his glasses off for this one. He wasn’t sure which part to address first; my jaded view on life, or my manner of speaking for lack of better word. “That’s… really colorful language you have there…” he said. “Wouldn’t it be good that your family wants you to attend college? You don’t think they care?” “No,” I said simply. “I rather work like any other two-bit middle class American, and die peacefully in a ditch, drowning in my own vomit and blood, barely at the age of thirty.” I reclined in my chair, peering out the window. It was raining, again. “Besides, they just want to live off my money if I do hit it big anyways. Bastards” The counselor rubbed at his temples, almost at his wit’s end. The custodians in my elementary school could put up with my shit better than he could. “Let’s change the subject for a second, then.” “Fine.” “What do you want to do in life, Bigby?” “I told you; nothing.” “But that couldn’t be true. You have to want at least something to do with your life.” This fucking guy. I was sure that my lungs were ragged from my incessant sighing this whole time. “...To be an author,” I mumbled reluctantly. “That must be where your… unique way of words came from, yeah?” No shit, I almost screamed at the top of my lungs. Instead I found myself nodding out of spite. The Counselor was delighted to see some shimmer of a breakthrough– even though it might’ve been feigned. This ham took a victorious sip from his mug coffee– that said †˜best dad ever’, embroidered with a big pink heart in the center– as a reward. What a fucking toolbox. “So, am I done? Can I go grovel to society for the remainder of my life now?” “Not yet,” the man halted. “I wanna know, Bigby; what makes you want to be an author? Why do you write?” I could feel my cheeks redden a little at such a question. I didn’t want to answer something so out of left field that it came out the mouth of one of those counselors on TV that always say †˜and how does that make you feel?’ after every goddamn thing you say. “What kind of question is that?” “A valid one.” Why the fuck do you think I write? I almost blurted out. “Why did you want to be a counselor? Clearly to ask questions you already know the answer to.” “Everyone has a different reason for something, Bigby.” He reached under his desk and slapped a thick folder onto the surface with a loud thump. “Now, you said that I became a counselor to ask questions I already know the answer to, correct?” Again, no shit. Putting on his glasses, he opened the cover of the folder laying so ominously on his desk. His eyes paced to me and back to the stacked papers within it as he flipped through them. He then put on a shit-eating grin, the type you’d use to intentionally annoy a person when you do them wrong. He fingered through the neatly written words, eventually humming as he came to a stopping point. He looked back up to me and gave a curious sneer. “Last chance, Bigby.” “Before what? You’re gonna call my mother?” My breath suddenly caught in my throat when I saw that the folder had my name in it, written in bold, Times New Roman text. “Well, if you want to talk about things I know the answer to… I know that you were diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome when you were ten.” My eyes widened with bubbling rage in that short of an instant. I stared at him incredulously, almost lashed out too. All I could do that moment was stand there and brood internally. “Is that true, bigby?” Despite the simmering hatred I had for this man, I had to answer. I had almost forgot that my IEP followed me every-fucking-where I went. “...Yeah. I was tested for depression that day and somehow, they found that. Happy?” I glanced to the page he was on and grunted. Suddenly my anger gushed. “Why ask me? You have my entire life story right there. Why have me sitting this chair, talking to your dumbass, when I could instead be working on my novel, or watching TV or some shit? Why can’t you just read through it yourself? Clearly you don’t have anything better to do.” The Counselor hummed and began writing something on a blank page. Probably how I just insulted him. “You want to know why I write? To escape. I make my own worlds to keep myself from soaring off the handle. I make characters based off the people I know or the kind of people I want to know. I write so I can get away from peppy, self-absorbed fucks like you, who strive to make people with my disability miserable. Hell, writing’s just about the only thing that keeps me from killing myself or the next person to piss me off– not some counselor who thinks blurting out a kid’s many disorders and issues will help solve everything. Fuck you.” He still hummed, and continued to jot down everything I said. At this point I’m just adding fuel to the fire. “You’re just a coward. I may have a skewed mindset on life itself, but at least I’m cynical enough to not take something bad and make it worse by beautifying it with false optimism.” Apparently my words fell on deaf ears, because he continued to scribble away on that IEP. †˜Coward’ wasn’t the zenith of insults I could give him. Nothing more to do than take my leave. "Asshole."

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Dawn_of_Dark

8 years ago

d(^_^)(^_^)d wrote...

This is exactly why I do my writing on the floor.
(sorry for getting off topic, Ezlare!)

But I'm not covered to go see a chiropractor every week.
(I'm sorry, too, Ezlare!)

Ezlare

8 years ago

Dawn_of_Dark wrote...

d(^_^)(^_^)d wrote...

This is exactly why I do my writing on the floor.
(sorry for getting off topic, Ezlare!)

But I'm not covered to go see a chiropractor every week.
(I'm sorry, too, Ezlare!)

Lol, you guys are good. I meant to log in and see how the contest was doing but couldn't find the time.

Dawn_of_Dark wrote...

Nothing more to do than outrageously flip the desk he is using to write on because he clearly isn't listening. I go full Hulk considering that he has a lot of thing on his desk. Pens, scissors and shards of glass flying around, pinning that dick into the wall. Now that's what I mean by "skewed mindset". I take my leave.

This. This right here, made me laugh harder than I should've.

leonard267 FAKKU Non-Writer

8 years ago

Sorry for taking so long to post a comment of your entry. I was busy with work. I can reveal to you that I ranked your entry to be the top three. However, the other judges didn't agree with me.

Allow to explain in detail why I thought so, beginning with the three criteria that I used to judge the entries:

1. Must be readable:

If you want me to criticise your entry, I would say that I didn't understand the first three lines of the entry. I was confused by keywords like "charade"; I didn't know how the protagonist transitioned from his dormitory to the counsellor's house. It felt jarring to me and I found it unnecessary. I would have preferred the story opening straight at the counsellor's house with some monologue about how he would rather be staying at his dormitory. (You might be familiar with my tastes in reading and presentation. I can imagine another judge or reader not seeing this as a problem.)

That is a small issue though. The bulk of entry, which was really centred around the protagonist's thoughts, I quite enjoyed. I understood clearly what the protagonist is thinking and as much as I hate plot being described by dialogue, I didn't mind it in this instance. I'd like to think it is because they were phrased as a question and answer. I knew fully the context.

This entry appealed to me because I found it easy to go through it. The fact that was short and straight to the point made it all the better.

2. Must be funny:

The humour used in this story fits my tastes. (Though I think it didn't appeal to the two other judges) That was why I placed it in the top three. You might have noticed that I like monologues centred around grumbling and complaining. I also love references to real life and would dearly like to peek into the thoughts of real people. This entry reflected that somewhat.

However since it wasn't really a deliberate attempt to make people laugh and it wasn't as witty as the other entry about cannibal rats, I ranked it as the third best. However, I found this entry to be one of the few that I found funny and entertaining. It is a shame that the judges didn't agree with me.

3. Must be written in leonard267's style:

This is the least important of the judging criteria.

It slightly resembles what I write with great emphasis placed on explaining the thoughts of the protagonist. I might have ranked your entry higher if it devoted more words to digressing about how counsellors are in reality, unproductive people as evidenced with how he is failing in counselling the protagonist and delve in the realm of the silly like thinking of taking a dump while the counsellor is talking. (You actually did that, but it is in dialogue with swear words, things that this reader minds quite a lot.)

Don't worry about not meeting that criteria of writing like me though. It is nothing to be proud about.

Overall, I enjoyed your entry. I minded the presentation a little but that cannot ruin me appreciating the anger of the protagonist. The last line of the entry is the icing on the cake!

One question: What is an IEP?

Ezlare

8 years ago

leonard267 wrote...

Overall, I enjoyed your entry. I minded the presentation a little but that cannot ruin me appreciating the anger of the protagonist. The last line of the entry is the icing on the cake!

One question: What is an IEP?

Hey, thanks for that. It does give me a little hope knowing that someone liked it a bit more than expected.

To put it bluntly; an IEP is a file that tracks you based on your disability, and unsurprisingly, it follows you for the rest of your life through school and probably work. It also determines if you need "extra help" on some subjects or not.

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