Stewart McMillan - Day One

          Personally, I don't mind walking. I'll complain and laugh about it when everyone else does, sure, but in the long run I feel it gives me the minimal amount of exercise someone should have in a day. What I do mind, is carrying a heavy backpack home. It doesn't make you a better person, you just suffer. And rolling backpacks are lame. And mine broke back in ninth grade. Today at least my backpack wasn't that heavy.

          As I got closer to my house I started to wonder, as I do every day, if anyone would be there. There is nothing more awesome, pretty much, than coming home to an empty house and pretending for a night you have a bachelor pad apartment you don't have to share with anyone, and you don't pay rent for. But on arriving home those hopes were dashed as I was greeted with a more-common-than-not, "Hey, asshole." It was said in a chummy manner like no one should ever say, and I knew that. But the greeter didn't, and that's what made it sad. But me being called an asshole could actually be a good thing. On half of the days it meant they were in a good mood, where I respond by calling them old and fat and I think that's very funny and we can both unfortunately laugh about it.

          But it wasn't one of those days. So I said hi to her, my mom, and was put into a bad mood by her obviously drunk behavior. I will never get into the details as to why she acts this way; her crystal clear self-loathing and black-sheep-of-the-family issues, or bipolar and anger problems. Because they're not my problem and I don't help people who don't want it, or idiots in general. So I prepared for the routine of another fight. I've been convinced since I was thirteen she lives to fight, and I guess that's about it. I walked past the kitchen and she popped the cork of another wine bottle. She attempted to shoot the bull with me but I skirted any question. And that made her mad.

          I took a leak and went about my business getting a Coke out of the fridge and waited for her to voice her attitude. It always starts off with, "You have a bad attitude, change it." While I did my best to ignore her, she's one of those people who doesn't shut the fuck up until she gets what she wants. So we argued. It moved from bull shit, to unrelated bull shit, to 'I sacrificed so much for you' mom bull shit, to blaming me for shit, shit. Apparently "I" broke her hair dryer. Three weeks ago it was the microwave, but today it was the hair dryer. And she had to go to work with her hair wet, and so she's been in a mood all day. And then I learned playing the world's smallest violin only pisses her off more. But I still think it's a very notable talent.

          Finally I was able to leave after her tired 'fag' insult. I didn't slam my bedroom door, because I lived with the belief it would splinter at the slightest breeze, but I did drag my night stand in front of it. I knew my mom wouldn't come in, but it gave me something to do. And my door lacked a lock. My room was a different country from the rest of my house, because it was mine. I set my alarm for the morning and turned on my computer.

          I had an English assignment to do so I opened Word and formatted the page the way the teacher liked. I wrote my name, class, due date, and teacher name in the corner and gave the document an uncreative but informative title. Satisfied with how far I had gotten, I opened up the internet. I Googled the paper's subject and opened a new tab to do something fun. If someone asked where I went on the internet all day I'd assure them, "An underground site you've probably never heard of," and we would laugh and I'd avoid having to answer entirely. Or maybe I'd answer "look at bewbs" and get the same result. But it wasn't usually boobs.

          The truth is it's a forum site where you roleplay with people all over the world. What I hate is that it's almost impossible to explain to people who don't understand, and if they do understand it means they rp too and I don't need to explain. It's comparable to Dungeons and Dragons but the premise is formatted differently. Only lame asses cyber, but unfortunately there are a lot of lame asses here. But I'm able to bypass all that because there's a specific group of people I rp with. We let anyone join in our fun, but God help them if they type illiterately or do all the cliché bullshit with their character that newbies do. There are six of us total: SpudKing (well-meaning idiot), AllianceFawn (annoying girl who thinks she's a badass and that you just have to put up with her bitchiness), Dr.Killshot (he-man-woman-hater who in one fell swoop extinguished Alliance's douchebaggery, but he's actually a cool guy and is nice to women), HippiePudding (cool guy who I'm convinced is thirty something and doesn't let Spud get away with anything), SgtBraBear (only online buddy whose name I remember, Christine, and most awesome girl ever), and me, StewieMcMillions (because of Stewie Griffin, my name Stewart McMillin, and when I was twelve I thought it was a cool username).

          But the forum was dead tonight and no one was on. I left a message reporting in on a boring school day and the delicious Thai restaurant I went to before going home. I never talk about my mom, even though I know they'd be cool about it. I added that I'd be on all night before going back to my paper. I continued to think about the Thai restaurant. I loved that place. I ate there all the time and the lady always knew my name and order and was so happy and short. I checked back at the forum to see if anyone had signed on. I did this repeatedly as I worked on my English assignment. When the paper was finished the clock said it was ten and for the next three and a half hours I was screwing around online. It was a dead night all over the internet so I dragged my night stand back beside my bed and went to sleep.