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A Dramatis Personae of Sorts". (98/99-2 #20)
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(99/00-1 #22)
06/02/03: Guess what? I actually dated "Mary" for a week, but fortunately for me, it was a complete disaster. If you're still not sure who these people are, I will provide you with two hints: 1) The top line in the Men Without Hats lyric was, until now, garbled due to a mistake with "Find and Replace" back in 2000. 2) I use Alt + 0235 to type "Melissa's" name.
12/24/00: I never thought I'd have to drag this article back up out of the bilge again. Apparently three of the people in the Prom limo party mentioned below are expressing extreme displeasure at their inclusion and portrayal in this essay. (Funny that they're only getting wind of it a year and a half after the fact, but anyway...) The names "Mary", "Paul", and "Melissa" are not real; they replace the full names of the real people I discuss here. "Mary" and "Melissa" are especially mad, especially since "Mary" read the article to "Melissa".
And can I say something here? Is it too much to say someone got cranky or abused a limo service? My God, these people are touchy. In fact, "Mary" wanted me to take down the entire article at one point, a demand that I feel to be completely out of line. Further to this - since she asked me so nicely - they're all getting only a token apology.
While I'm here violating my journalistic principles, I should also add that Devon was upset that I said Mike Truzac dumped her off at Safe Grad. I apologize (from the heart) to Devon and Mike for my insensitivity in this matter. The real situation was that she wanted to dance all night, while Mike preferred to hang around out on the verandah. Nothing wrong with that. I should also applaud Devon for not threatening legal action.
Sleeping in the Solarium
Perhaps I should say something about Crosswinds, since this is my first essay written for my new location. It rules. Best free hosting you can get on the web for free. I mean, look I use like six layers of subdirectories, I have unlimited space here, and best of all... NO ADS!! They're just great!
(This essay is very much open architecture, so if I remember something or receive a fantastic suggestion, I'll be sure to put it in here someplace.)
Chapter I - Prologue
Chapter II - Pre-Prom
Chapter III - Prom
Chapter IV - Safe Grad
Chapter V - Boring Grad
Chapter VI - Grade 10 & 11 Grad
Chapter VII - Post-Grad
Chapter VIII - Thank God This Essay Is Almost Over
Let's
see now... $68, $28, $108, $30, $23... well that comes to $257. Not too
bad considering it was for... wait, I forgot the tickets... $20, $4...
that makes it $281. $281 is all Prom Night cost me in terms of money, which
pales when compared to the emotional toll it took out on me. There was
however, a Highlight to the Evening, which I will describe for you as time
permits.
I guess the best and funniest way to go over it for you is chronologically.
The whole thing started way way way back in December when we had the Semi-Formal
Dance. I was there like I always was for dances this year, to my suprise
I found I rather enjoyed the things. Anyway, I happened to run into Devon
Day just when it was over, and given that: a) She was looking as beautiful
as ever and b) I was so hyper I was suspected of being under the influence
of sodium pentothal, I remarked rather loudly that I would have asked her
out if I wasn't there helping out. Needless to say, she was at a loss for
words and I'm glad she didn't actually say much of anything that was on
her mind, because if she did, I would be so guilty I wouldn't ever say
anything again.
Anyway, over the next six seconds I began to entertain the thought of asking
her out to the Prom (Why not? She's only six rungs up the social ladder
from you!), and thus began an entertaining three months in which I
made 32,768 attempts to talk to her, most of them ending up with me darting
away at speeds approaching that of the Pronghorn.
I'm sure glad I wasn't born here, because if I was, this could have gone
on for four years or more. Mike Truzac finally put a stop to the insanity
for me by asking her out around the end bit of March. To make things more
ridiculous, Tyson H. informed me of his intentions days before, and
to top it all off Mike told me to go ahead and ask her if I was the least
bit interested the morning of the day he asked her.
The following paragraph
has been adjusted for the 640X480 species.
Of course I did make one final pitiful attempt to ask her out, which came
hazardously close
to the point where I might have actually said "HiDevon,areyouinterestedingettingadatetotheProm?
Doyouwanttogowithme?Ohno,I'msosorryIevenaskedImeanhowcouldIevenexpectyoutosayyesandall,
Imeanyousooutclassmeinsomanywaysit'snotevenfunny!I'msososososorrytoevenwasteyourtime,
Imean" THUD, I collapse due to lack of oxygen. The only element that
kept me from asking her was the Idiot Squad, commonly referred to as "Christina
McDonald's friends":
ME: So... uh, hi Devon! How are... uh, things?
DEVON: Oh fine! I-
MIKE MCPHERSON: So hey Will, what do you think of Devon? Would you
bonk
her?
And
so on. I had to leave. And at the end of the day, it was too late. I cried
for seven minutes and almost missed my bus.
Enter Plan 'B': Ask someone I don't have a desperate crush on. My first
choice had plans to visit her grandmother. The next six's parents forbade
it. One was scheduled for reconstructive jaw surgery.
And just when it seemed hopeless, I uncovered Plan 'C': Ask anyone with
the one quality I desire most in a woman: (she's breathing)
ME:
Hi, I'm desperate for a date to the Prom! Are you interested in going?
SARAH: Uh... I'm in grade 3, sir.
Ha-ha!
Just kidding! I hope! But eventually I did find a date. And then we agreed
that I should go with Melissa as her jaw surgery got rescheduled. Fairly
plain and simple, Crystal has a boyfriend and her parents... boy, is this
going to suprise you or what? ...wouldn't let her go to Safe Grad.
So now I had a date. And thanks to Mary and Paul , limo and dinner reservations
even fell into my lap! The stage was set for... utter and total disappointment.
For the record "Sarah" is
quite fictional, I made her up.
I
had a nightmare early on in exam week. It's hard to explain, but basically
it was about me being more annoying to others than ever before, and finally
Melissa rolled her eyes and told me that I just liked to hear myself talk
and I was obsessed with my own thoughts. Then she and almost everyone she
was acquainted with began ignoring me. At one point, they were all standing
in a circle over the curb of the Concrete Yard / Parking Lot and there
was someone dead in the center. I tried to ask what was wrong, but I was
quickly accused of being an insensitive jerk, but somehow I don't even
think they actually said anything to me, maybe it was what they were feeling.
And I felt like an insensitive jerk. This trend continued somehow, and
I lost all my friends, not to mention my Prom date.
I told Melissa about this the next time I was talking to her and she told
me she had a nightmare that same night! In her nightmare, we were at the
Prom itself, and everyone was attempting to attack us. Melissa responded
with "Buffy"-style fighting. I don't think she told me whether we got out
alive or not, I didn't ask. Well, can you say 'bad omen'? At least I put
most of it out of my mind, if I went to the Prom expecting bad things to
happen, bad things invariably would happen.
On to positive items now. I don't think anyone could ask for a better date
than Melissa "Alt+0235" . For one thing, she's pretty funny, and for another,
she got me a 'guilt gift' after I paid for everything. I think my Aunt,
Grandparents Matheson, Grandparents Johnston, and my stepdad Paul deserve
it more, as they helped fork up that $281 if you gather what I mean here.
Next year I'm going to have a job.
Luckily, I was able to pick up my tux from Scotia Tuxedo the day before.
Now let me tell you something: If you're ever in the market for formal
wear, go to Scotia Tuxedo on Sackville Drive. I came in the tuesday before
and just said "I need a tux and I'm quite clueless as to how that stuff
works" or something to that effect, and I got exactly the kind of outfit
I wished for. The staff were helpful, friendly, and had a great sense of
humor. I'd recommend the place in a blink.
Anyway, Mom and I got the '88 Wagoneer Limited cleaned up and out, and
before I knew it we were off to pick up Melissa for dinner reservations
of 4:45. We drove up Highway 102 to Exit 5 and... well I'm not going to
tell you where she lives, but I will tell you, by way of a hint, that she
lives so far out in the sticks that they can't use 'TimHortenses' as a
reliable and accurate measure of distance. We pulled in her driveway and
we went inside. I'll skip the obvious stuff, but Melissa's mother and I
really hit it off. She teaches English for summer school and she told me
that she really liked teaching writers such as myself, but there were none
for her class this year. I guess us writers usually pass English. We exchanged
flowers, and Melissa really really liked her orchid. I really liked my
boutiner too, it fit with my tux nicely. My tux was hurting for adornment,
let me tell you. Without the red flower there, I looked like Shamrock Joe.
Not that that is a bad thing! Any Irishmen out there can rest assured that
I am Irish and am very authorized to make cracks like that, despite the
fact that I'm a Matheson, we had the regional reunion at my house in PEI
several years back and the Chief and his entourage attended, and that I
sometimes wear a Matheson tie, I am very very Irish! Oy vey! Wait, that's
Yittish... I mean, uh, I kissed the stone and got Blarney Fungus! Sayonara!
You can put away your stampeding goats now.
Now that my heritage is down Patrick, I'll continue with my story: We finally
got underway again and we headed out of Fall River back into Nova Scotia.
The 4:45 reservations were at Chinatown. We strolled in and met our dinner
party, which consisted of a lot of people whose names I won't tell you.
(unless you e-mail me and
ask nice)
Dinner was kind of bland and boring. The atmosphere was nice, though. Especially
the jellyfish we saw in the water when the six of us in the party who were
sharing a limo were out standing on the dock. There were like five per
cubic meter at least! Crazy!
At last the limo showed up. Let me tell you, the Wagoneer was much nicer
and next year when I go to the Prom (I'm gonna be a returning grad ya know)
I'm going to drive my date around in it. This is assuming of course,
that my mother does not destroy it like she did with Paul's '87 Nisan King
Cab 4X4. Of course it wasn't her fault
or anything, she was driving on that fun twisty road out by the Airport
that takes you out to East Hants (motto: "We're east of the 102!")
on a day it was covered with black ice. It's a good thing she wasn't as
far out in the sticks as Melissa's house is, or else she would still be
rolled over in that ditch. Well, to get to the point here, the limo hadn't
been cleaned out for a while. A "New Kids on the Block" tape was jammed
in the cassette deck, if that's any indication. (j/k)
Anyway, we started off for Paper Mill, all the while Mary complaining that
we have to go out to Melissa's house to pick up her stuff and my stuff.
To save valuable time, we took a simple, direct route to Paul's house:
Finally,
we all arrived at CPA. Thirty-five minutes later, we actually went inside
and I brought my TWO COMPLETE CHANGES OF CLOTHES FOR SAFE GRAD into the
coat check. I got #13. Another omen. =)
The Prom itself was a real sleeper. I think I might have spent like ten
minutes inside the actual gym, mostly because the music selections stank
and it was so hot that lead would have been a convenient liquid to use
in a thermometer.
To pass the time, we stuck with Adam Kidson, and his date Kristi, and another
friend of mine who set them up, Edgar Sullivan. We had fun, really. We
passed a lot of time just looking for each other. I also found another
fun way to pass time: Why can't me and Melissa be Prom King and Queen?
We didn't win, that's why. Scott Fraser and his date won. Instead of campaigning,
I should have been dancing. I take those sort of things too personal.
Speaking of dancing, I danced a grand total of two times. The first dance
(my second ever) was with - boy, you're not even going to guess
this! - my date. I don't even think I actually came close to a smooth,
relaxed dance form, I was more in the neighborhood of "Domo arigato, Mr.
Roboto... Mata ah-oo hima de...". I think my back wrenched halfway through
the song. (It wasn't "Mr. Roboto", by the way, it was a really really weeny
slow song.)
My second dance was even weirder. I was just standing around, like one
does when one wanders into a crowd only to discover that everyone else
is slow dancing and one realizes that one is very very much an idiot, when
Brianna Courneya walks up and asks me if I'd like to dance. Of course I
said 'yes'. And so there we are dancing, and I happen to see Beth MacQuarrie
who I had been wanting to dance with for, say, the last four months or
so, dancing with Brian Haas. And of course Brian and Brianna are really
really good friends, so I suggested that we switch. Beth laughed nervously
at that suggestion, so we kept things going the way they were...
I will remember you...
Will you remember me? ...
I will remember you...
Will you remember me? ...
I will remember you...
Will you quit this damn droning? ...
And suddenly, BOOM! it was all over. The DJ was packing up. No balloons even! (Angela Stewart ate them all, in what I would consider a very close second to the biggest Highlight of the Evening, which I will tell you about if space permits.) Everyone stood around looking confused for several moments.
"That
was the last song??"
"That was the song they picked??"
"Why wasn't I dancing with my date??"
"Someone get this broomstick outta here!"
Ha-ha! Well, it sure was an anticlimax, to be sure! So Melissa and I walked downstairs and grabbed our things, including my TWO COMPLETE CHANGES OF CLOTHES. Hey! Joseph MacMillan showed up for Safe Grad! Yeaahh! Lucky him, he didn't have to change out of a tux or anything like the rest of us guys have to do in the washroom here... HOLY GUACAMOLE WOULD YOU SEE THE SIZE OF THE CROWD IN HERE!! This is like trying to change in a prison washroom except that prison washrooms tend to be somewhat cleaner! Well, I don't like trying to change in front of several Baltic Republics, so I went upstairs instead. And it took me so long to change out of my tux into one of my TWO COMPLETE CHANGES OF CLOTHES that I came within ten or fifteen minutes of missing the bus to...
Boy, talk about adrenaline drop-off! I was the only one with any energy! Some people started singing heartwarming 'bus songs' like "The Wheels on the Bus":
The wheels on the bus go round and round
round and round
round and round
The wheels on the bus go round and round
all the way to school
The wheels on the child molester's car following the bus go round and round...
... so I decided to contribute my own Personal Favorite: "Ten Decillion Bottles of Beer on the Wall". It goes something like this:
(p p p pop)
Johnny and Jenny had a crazy dream,
See their pictures in a magazine.
Every little boy needs a girl.
Pop Goes The World...
Ha-ha! No, that is not what I meant! Here is the real song:
Ten decillion bottles of beer on the wall
Ten decillion bottles of beh-eeerr
And take one down and pass it around
Nine decillion, nine hundred ninety-nine nonillion, nine hundred ninety-nine
octillion, nine hundred ninety-nine septillion, nine hundred ninety-nine
sextillion, nine hundred ninety-nine quintillion, nine hundred ninety-nine
quadrillion, nine hundred ninety-nine trillion, nine hundred ninety-nine
billion, nine hundred ninety-nine million, nine hundred ninety-nine thousand,
nine hundred ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall ... gasp!!
People
began clapping which was really mortifying. That's how you know you really
annoyed them, they don't even bother with "SHUT THE F*** UP, WILL!!" anymore.
And something much much more horrifying happened around then too, perhaps
while I was changing. It became clear to me that I was dating two women
over the course of the evening: Melissa and Cranky Melissa. I think Melissa
went home to bed after the Prom was over, and left me with Cranky Melissa,
who was about as enthused as a limp dish rag. There was nothing for me
to do but hold onto my TWO COMPLETE CHANGES OF CLOTHES and enjoy the breeze
coming in the window. I also dreamed of what it would be like at Safe Grad
when we got there. The words 'Yacht Club' inspired me to think of a casual,
yet elegant place with a pavilion, gazebos, a big lawn, and a dock that
you could run out and sit on and look at the stars. There would be Karaoke,
hey maybe even a campfire and of course that fun water gun fight that we
would have outdoors. And the lawn would have large boulders in random spots
that you could hide behind, and... well let me just say my imagination
was drawing something like this:
- 1/20,000th of a second
after the festivities commenced, Mike Truzac dumped his date, Devon Day,
to her own devices for the rest of the evening as she absolutely refused
to leave the dance area, even unto the point where Amy had to bodily drag
her out at 6:30am when it was time to leave.
- For some reason, the Karaoke was never set up.
- And the music that was being played was CHEESY... cheesier
than the Prom music was... which was strange because it was the same comatose
DJ we had back there. But it's just as well... Devon must have felt special
having "Everybody (Backstreet's Back)" played 32,000 times over.
- Due to the extreme lines, I didn't bother trying to eat anything
until like 2... which would have been a great time to 'liven things up'
a little with my awesome game idea: we got the party, the deck, and the
water... let's play Weekend at Bernie's! Ya know, I think Mr. Farrow would
have made a good 'Bernie'.
- After I told that 'joke' fifteen times, Greg Baker's headache remarked
that it was 'old'. Whatever! I'm hyper, leave me alone!
- Two things made me un-hyper...
- The first was being constantly nailed by 'squirt and run' attacks...
which was most annoying. I was not kidding when I wrote in 'arseholes with
water guns'. I am not saying that there weren't people who were responsible
with their guns... notably Ryan Loomis (who DOUSED Jeremy Strong and another
person... more on that in a minute) and Nathan Craig who both fought viciously
but honorably.
- The other thing was that all the male preps had gotten together on
the deck under a... (dang, I don't know what they're called... but in a
corner that was not illustrated on my comprehensive map because I forgot
to put it in, I drew the thing in ink, and I was not about to do a second
draft) well anyway, they were there belting out:
Ohhhh... [RHYMES WITH 'DOOBIES']
[INCOMPREHENSIBLE VULGARITIES]
Ohhhh... [RHYMES WITH 'INTERSECTION']
Got me going in the right direction...
Ohhhh... [RHYMES WITH 'REGINA']
[I DON'T WANT TO KNOW]
... and I was like "those IDIOTS!!!" and they're not even
drunk!! (more on that in another chapter) The sheer magnitude of their...
stupidity
was maddening.
- Anyhow, at some point I decided to join the water fight. Hey, I knew
I was asking for it, but I had nothing else to do, and TWO COMPLETE CHANGES
OF CLOTHES. And boy, I had my few minutes of fun with my standard-issue
Super Soaker 50 they lent me, and it was really fairly powerful if you
knew what you were doing. I got a few people down on the battleground with
'douse-and-run' tactics... but, sadly, I ended up getting into a squirt
fight with Beth MacQuarrie... not exactly what I wanted to have happen,
but hey... And I ended up getting quite soaked myself, largely due to Ryan
Loomis who had brought along one of the more advanced Super Soaker models
that could be classified as Fire Department-issue if you gather what I
mean here. BLLAAAMM!! I think he really enjoyed himself. Later, he told
me that he got Mr. LeRoux really really bad. The vice-principal was harassing
a few unfortunate people with the Super Soaker 25-sized guns (but unlike
the real SS25, these guns had a distance of three feet and had a tendency
to leak a lot) with his Super Osaka 50... just dousing them again
and again and laughing his head off, so Ryan sneaks up behind him with
his Super Osaka 500 filled with hot water, aims for the small of Mr. LeRoux's
back, and... BLLLLAAAAAMMMMM!! parts of his shirt were on the Air Mountain.
- Now if only people like Ryan or Nathan or Kendra Bergman (whom I,
sadly, was not fighting at the same time with, I think we would have happily
given each other a bad case of hypothermia) had the guns, bad things wouldn't
happen much. But something bad happened to Julie Brownell, whom you may
recall I referred to her in essays #1, #2,
and #12-A as having one lone kernel of candy corn
for a brain. (Yet another line ripped from Dave
Barry...) I was of course kidding, and I wouldn't make bad jokes like
that about anyone now, especially enemies-turned-friends! Well, someone
who really does have candy corn for brains decided that someone
sitting way off away from the traffic perhaps trying to sleep was a Fair
Target and BLAM! I don't know what she did to him, if anything, but I hope
it was something bad.
- All these people getting soaked gave me quite a few special conversational
opportunities: "Say, you're pretty soaked? Did you bring a change of clothes?"
And they'd say 'no', then I'd say "Well I came prepared for everything,
I brought along TWO COMPLETE CHANGES OF CLOTHES!", and I'd say it like
I was the smartest person in the Known Universe. That was fun, but nowhere
nearly as fun as the Highlight of the Evening, which I will discuss as
soon as space permits.
- Mr. Burke came along eventually and started a sing-along in the corner
mentioned earlier. Still, it was no substitute for the Karaoke as Mr. Burke
did not know Our Favorite Classics such as "Mr. Roboto" or "Safety Dance".
But he did have an incredible repertoire of music, and he saved Safe Grad
from being a total bummer. He also refused to play stupid songs like "Everybody
(Backstreet's Back)" or the "[INTERSECTION] Song".
- On the subject of total bummer, let me also mention that we weren't
allowed to go swimming! (Except for Colin MacDonald and Craig Brown who
are above the laws that affect us mere mortals...) I wouldn't have gone
in of course, if only for the simple fact that I did not want my Final
Graduation Memories to include having 'sweet tits!' shouted at me Once
Again. But I would have liked to watch other people (translation: hot girls)
swim and that opportunity sadly did not present itself.
- At some point, it was time to leave. On the bus out, I remarked to
Ryan Mee that it would be very funny if someone got left behind after all
the Administration's efforts to count heads, and he disagreed with me.
Also, Nancy Corbett laughed at something funny I said but out of context,
I can't remember what it was.
- You can tell I'm really pulling at straws trying to finish this chapter.
- Breakfast was really neat. We got to serve ourselves, and there were
bagels, croissants, fruits, juices, you name it! I sat with Ed, Adam, Kristi,
and Melissa (who left again... still quite cranky), and we told jokes to
each other and everything. So I guess we had fun.
- MISSY: He won it fair and square!
- MS. DOMPIERRE: Now, if you'd care to sit for just a few more
moments-
(sound of chairs being moved - everyone leaves)
- I suppose I should tell you about the Highlight of the Evening. Well,
I had a nice chat with Ryan about water guns, and with Cassandra about
why everything was so disappointing.
- Then mom came and took me and Melissa home.
- And when she took me home, she expected me to drive out to Sackville
to drop off my tux myself. I wasn't able to until like 6:00, resulting
in a long argument over the phone.
- All this paves the way for the next chapter...
I
missed the grad rehearsal, and if it wasn't for Greg Baker informing on
the stuff I missed, I would have been quite the ignorant yahoo. As it was,
I was just the yahoo.
So as not to spoil sales of the ceremony video, I won't tell you anything
else except it was boring. And the singers had guts. Especially Jill Matthews.
Oh, and according to the program, I was receiving High Honours and a French
Immersion Certificate. Ha-ha! Wouldn't that have been funny?
Speaking of funny, I have to wonder why Ms. Quinlan limited her response
to people not being there to 'in absentia'. Why couldn't she be a bit more
creative... "well looks like she got wasted last night..."? And
those stupid hats itched like crazy and it was hot, and... well, you get
the idea here.
One thing that made this day Unforgettable: "Weird Al" Yankovic's Running
With Scissors came out!! This album is sooo cool!!
Chapter VI - Grade 10 & 11 Grad
Yeahhh!
This was more fun! We were all stuffed into the gym, chatting amongst ourselves,
et cetera, and once in a while someone near us would get up, go to the
front and come back, and all the while we'd be clapping. Of course some
people, like Alexander Munck, had the audacity to go back to their own
countries and miss picking up their awards, which made it embarrassing
when I yelled "Yeah, Alex!!" very very loudly. Of course we were
all so hyper that we were prepared to cheer for Tupperware cake transporters,
so I wasn't really upset. This essay has been going on for waayyy too long.
I also said something incredibly superly funny as a response to something
one of the teachers was saying, and everyone in the vicinity laughed really
really hard but I forget what it was now!
Loneliness. Well, I did entertain the notion of going to Will Brayley's party, so I phoned him up at six and had the following conversation before even 6pm:
ME: Hello? Is Will Brayley there?
MARK
LOUCH: Hey, who is this?
ME:
Will Matheson.
MARK:
Oh, hi! (Begins to explain party details.)
TYSON
H. (in the background): Uhhjj... who is that??
MARK:
It's Will!
TYSON:
But Will's right here... uaggghhh!
(Sound of glass breaking.)
MARK:
Hey, you wanna talk to Will?
ME:
Sure!
WILL:
Who is it?
MARK:
Will Matheson!
WILL:
Who??
MARK:
Will
Matheson!!
WILL:
Oh... (picks up phone)
BRIAN
HAAS: Who was that again... erghh...
(Sounds of whooping and screaming.)
WILL:
Hey Will! You're more than welcome to come over! Do you know where my house
is?
ME:
Well up to Exit 5 on the 102, sort of. Towards (name of teacher)'s?
WILL:
Exactly! Oh, you do know this is a drinking party, right?
ME:
Of course! Oh, anything you need me to bring?
WILL:
Are you drinking?
ME
(in a tone I would use if accused of being a serial killer): No,
of course not!
WILL:
Okay, then just bring yourself-
(Loud thumping noises.)
TYSON:
Hey, who is that on the ph- Blearggghhhh!
WILL:
WILL
MATHESON!!
DEVON:
Hey put this on!
(Sound of "Everybody (Backstreet's Back)" playing at 107689278657db)
ME:
Uh...
okay. I might go, but-
(Sound of approaching sirens.)
ME:
- I dunno. Thanks anyway.
WILL
(hurredly): Sure. Bye!
... so, not wanting my First Party Experience to be imperfect, I opted not to attend. Instead, I drove into downtown Bedford and picked up some DQ stuff for myself, my mom, and my stepbrother ("$40! Wow, I could almost buy three Blizzards for that!"), and all in all I think I was happy with my decision until Amy Kikuchi told me she got drunk, which I think would be something to see. I think she wouldn't need to take in as much as, say, Devon Day.
Chapter VIII - Thank God This Essay Is Almost Over
Well,
I think that's it for my CPA essays. (This one may be revised numerous
times as I remember things to add.) Aside from the completion of "Sages
of Time", I think I'm going to leave this site to history now. The
next big thing you'll likely see from me is something I'd dub as a "Contemporary
Fantasy Novel", loosely based on that Nintendo novel I was writing in grade
10 and 11. Or maybe I'll finish that... if I can find it again! =) Or maybe
I'll get that dream job working for a tabloid newspaper. Who knows what
the future holds?
Thanks to everyone for visiting and reading. When I make up a new literary
site for non-CPA things, rest assured it will be close at hand to http://surf.to/will.
Have a nice day!
Return to A View from the Solarium.
Goto Crosswinds.
Goto Previous Essay: "Sages of Time - Part One:
A Dramatis Personae of Sorts". (98/99-2 #20)
Goto Next Essay: "And All My Dreams, Torn Asunder"
(99/00-1 #22)