There Is No Justice

My dad wasn’t terribly hard on me, just the obligatory, “If this news is true, I will be so disappointed,” and, “Can’t you see how your mother’s heart is breaking,” and of course/without a doubt, “Apply yourself to something greater, Pendel, because with God’s infusion of…” Hey dad, spare me the company line.

I had my meeting with Mr. Hanson the other night. My parents were with me, and they proved to be murderous traitors. I will never sleep well in my own home again, for fear of these two tactless pricks; I am sure now they will not be happy until I give up and die.

They basically cornered me, the three of them, and it was a set up all along—of this I have no doubt. My mom, dad, and I walk into Hanson’s office at like 4 PM or so, which already has things tense because my dad freaking HATES to miss a single, precious drop of the work day. I’ve often thought that work is where he feels the most at home; maybe my mom and I not being there is an extra added bonus for him, but who knows. Oh well. If it’s true, I can hardly blame him. Anyway, as soon as we get in the office, my beatific parents are shaking Hanson’s hand like they’re meeting a politician who just passed a law for them, or like he’s the cop who just busted the dirty thug that murdered their family. Very conspiratorial, as if they had been WORKING TOGETHER on something, is what I am trying to say.

I see this, and it seems to me that it would be ridiculous to pretend I didn’t sense some monkey business afoot, so I come right out with it and I say to them all, hey, would you guys mind introducing me to your friend? Everyone harrumphs, and looks at the floor, and then to each other with that “caught” look, and then Hanson gestures for everyone to sit, so we do. I sit last, because I guess I feel like this means something, but what, I don’t know. Then Hanson says, “Would you two like to start?” And he’s looking at the traitors with a smug mouth, his cock broom wiggling like mouse whiskers. They look trapped, but they go ahead and tell me that they know I am heading for trouble, it’s no surprise, and that they talked to Mr. Hanson because he was the one teacher they thought I must like, since it was my only very good grade. And that’s why Hanson asked me on the swim team. Like, so he can be some damned MENTOR or something. HA. As fucking if. Unbelievably, Hanson looks at me, and he says, “I thought we had something too, Pendel.”

Jaw dropping. Do the queer innuendos ever stop coming out of this freak’s mouth?

Then they are all off and running. It’s got nothing to do with being on the swim team; it’s just that my work has slipped. Being in an after-school activity will keep me out of trouble, they say, which I obviously need, since now the police are coming over to question me from time to time. I’m like, it was once! And they were like, well, that’s more than enough, and we don’t want repeat performances. Study with Hanson on weekends (!!) and talk more about college with him, and my future, and I am like, I am NOT going to college, and them my mom starts crying into a damned Kleenex cuz a horse is a horse of course OF COURSE. So then, they are talking about fucking CHURCH activities, like, fucking car washes and retreats and shit, but I put up my hand and say, hey, enough.

They look at me, and I drop a bomb. I’m like, if you want me to do something after school, I will join the golf team. Anything else and you can kiss my red ass. Now it was THEIR turn to drop jaw. But you see, I suspected this shit, and golf was my ace in the hole, suckers. They think I don’t plan…that I don’t think, but oh friends…I DO.

You see, Sugarbear plays on the golf team. He and a group of guys often drop acid and wander around the course a couple of times a week and he talked to me about joining. I thought to myself, now THERE is an after school activity I can fucking handle.

Well, what can they say? I just tell them I want to be with friends. My parents are so relieved to think I HAVE some that they just agree immediately, but I can tell Hanson isn’t so sure. He can burn in hell, for all I care. I am still damn-straight SURE he is a pervert.

I tell them we will have to reconvene on the weekend study buddy group (the thought of it makes me want to puke), and I think they know when to stop, not to push me, because they let it go. I will, too, I suppose. I have to think my way out. ASSHOLES.

Anyway, I have more news after talking to my shrink yesterday, I think I am fucked on the window thing. Someone else made a comment about it to, albeit RUDELY. Bite cock, Lana. But I have to save it. I have no time now.

If I am good at golf I will be so fucking pumped on irony that it might kill me.

Pendel’s Crazy Weekend

Something insane happened that pretty much changed my life, for the best, I hope, on Sunday, but more on that in a second.

Camile is way angry at me, and I don’t really care, except that I want another shot at that ass before I’m dead. She comes over on Saturday night, and is outside my window calling to me, and I’m like, come to the door, you idiot. She says something to me like, “I don’t want your whole stupid family hearing about this.” I could give a rat’s ass what my cornhole family hears, but she’s right, they are stupid, so I let her come in through my window. I usually would have been all over her right then, but I was still pretty embarrassed about the other night, so I just sat down and looked at her, and waited for her to start flapping those dumb fish lips. I didn’t have to wait long, but what she told me kind of freaked me out. Well, first, she says that leaving my bike by her driveway was a total boner move (agreed), because when her mom and dad got home late, they thought I was still there, and stormed her room expecting to find us naked, but instead only found her looking at her nipples in the mirror. Ha ha. Then she goes on to say that her folks have called the cops about the smashed windshield thing, and that the police told them that they had received call from a person who lives next to the Do Drop In about a guy with spiky black hair and a denim vest running down the street after the person had heard a big smash come from outside. Fits my description, all right! Camile says she knows it’s me—she remembers I was wearing my rocking MAYHEM vest that night—but I’m denying it all the way. Till death. She says her dad thinks it’s me too, and he said he’s going to tear my head off my shoulders the next time he sees me. I’ve got no doubt he can do it, too. Like I think I’ve said before, the guy works down at the auto yard, and looks like a fucking gorilla. Oh well. I’m not making any friends, but I guess I’m not losing any either. Camile said that if she ever finds out for sure that I did it, she’s never gonna play with my tool again, but that’s bullshit empty threats. She’s hooked on it. Anyway, my household should be getting a call from the cops soon, cause Camile’s ape-like parents told the cops about me. Told them that I’m a “bad seed”, apparently. Piss off, I say. I’m worried as shit, but more than that I fucking hate Camile’s jerk-off old man, and I’ll get even with him one of these days, make book on it. I should have flattened his tires and sugared his tank too, while I was at it. I should have set that piece of shit car on FIRE. More on that as it develops.

Now for the good stuff. So, I guess people have seen this stupid blog, and a couple of real weirdoes have even commented with their lame-ass thoughts about what the hell I should be doing and how I should be treating my dumb-bell mother. Everyone’s a Pendel expert! I hate it. Well, one guy named Craig tells me that I should be doing drugs at the dinner table, this way I can tolerate my parent’s company without getting too angry and depressed, and at the same time they get to think they are spending “quality” time with me, and maybe they’ll climb down off my fucking back some.

Finally some advice I can use.

I have almost no friends, really, because you just can’t trust anyone. But one guy I DO hang with named Sugarbear gave me a hit of acid like 6 months ago, but I never took it because I got enough problems. He said to keep it potent you gotta keep it cold, so I put it in the kitchen freezer, behind the snowball Clare’s been keeping since the winter before last. So when I got this Craig guy’s comment, I thought about it, and then, figuring I was going to need some good vibrations from the parental units when Johnny Law comes calling in the next couple of days, I decided to give it a try. What could it hurt, really? I took the acid about an hour before dinner yesterday, and then went and sat in my room to see what would happen. I got online and was reading up on some black metal until I started feeling it.

I’ve been around Sugarbear when he’s been tripping balls, and he seems to keep it together well enough, so I figured I’d be ok. About a half hour after I dropped, I just start giggling. I’m listening to Darkthrone on their MySpace page—and it fucking rocks. Not like Mayhem, but you gotta mix it up—and the music suddenly just kind of starts coming OUT of the computer, and it seemed for the first time very strange and frightening to me, how hard and mean the music is, but so deep, like a deep river or something, and it was kind of like looking down into a bottomless river, but at the same time it was all so FUNNY. Just ridiculous. Why was I listening to these guys? What were they saying? What the hell are they so MAD about? Ha. It’s very ironic, I know, because I feel so angry all the time, so of course I KNOW why they are pissed, because everything sucks demon dick and nothing in the world works the way it is supposed to, but at the time, I have to admit, it just didn’t seem prudent to waste my energy on feeling that way. So after a minute I get past the guy singing, and I’m just listening to the music, and that’s a different story completely. Now I’m IN the river, and I’m moving with it, and the currents of sound are crazy, and they are flowing all around me, and I’m totally GROOVING on this shit in a way I hadn’t before, because I had been so focused on how pissed-off the singer is. I’m sitting there, and I’m staring at the computer with big ole’ eyes probably, and I’ve got the album up now instead of MySpace, and I’m listening through the media player, and I’m watching those visualization things, you know? With all the shit swirling around and it’s just crazy, like complete eye candy, BRAIN candy, just flowing along in the river beside me, when I feel the shake on my shoulder.

It’s my dad, and he’s like, “Hey, earth to Pendel, you want to eat dinner with us tonight?” And for some reason I am totally torqued by the idea of sitting with these nut jobs. I’m all like yeah! Great! I’ll be right down! The old man looks at me like I just grew a second head, completely not trusting me, but he lets it go. I get up to walk down the stairs and it’s all like wheeeeeee! The hallway is not like the hallway I grew up with at all. It moves and shifts with my steps, trying to throw me off, making sport of me as I try desperately to be normal. I reach out for the wall to steady myself, and the wallpaper feels like the beach. Like, I am telling you, my fingers SINK into the wall. I yank my hand back, not frightened, but surprised, right as Clare is coming out of her room, and she looks at me with a look like complete disapproval, a look she has perfected, which drives me batshit normally, but today it makes me laugh and I blow her a kiss and she just rolls her eyes and calls me a retard and moves on.

I can’t eat most of my food at all. It’s a roast or something, and at the time, the idea of eating MUSCLE just FREAKS MY SHIT so completely. Juices running and all fiberous and brown. Oh my god. No one says much to me about it, they are used to me not eating the food they provide, and I can’t bring myself to say much because I so completely distrust my mouth to even be able to make proper words, but I like PLOW through the strawberry jello like a madman, and everyone has one eye on me but says nothing, and it seems to work, you know? They seem to be genuinely pleased that I am there with a smile on my face, and my mom even says, “It is nice to see you smiling today.” And my dad’s like, “You must have gotten a letter from a new girl.” And that just makes me burst out laughing because it just makes zero sense, you know? What the hell could such a comment mean? A LETTER? What freaking year does he think this is? Well, I laugh, and then THEY all laugh, and I swear to Jesus, their faces ELONGATE when they laugh, just like, they STRETCH! Like rubber! Oh, I am freaked to the limit, and the colors of the table are so vivid, and it’s all just like popping out at me, and the jello is as red as I’ve ever seen red get, and it’s like eating essence of strawberry, the soul of strawberries distilled, and I just can’t get the smile off my face.

It’s pretty uneventful, I’m sure, the rest of my dinner, but it’s a blur to me now. A blur of glinting metal and monotone conversation that is somehow soothing, and Clare’s braces making her talk SOOOO funny. I hadn’t noticed that before, had I? She’s completely dorky looking, Calre, but I bet she ends up pretty. One of the most captivatingly bizarre 45 minutes of my life so far.

I go to my room and spend the rest of my night there. I took the stuff at like 4:30 PM, and at 1 AM I was still feeling pretty elastic. It was crazy fun. I watched my TV, Discovery Channel the whole time, just the nuttiest stuff, you wouldn’t believe it if I told you what is happening in the fucking ocean right now. I had been laboring under the assumption that I lived on earth, but apparently I have been wrong all along. I also dug out my old legos from like 5-10 years ago and blew my mind with them. I never realized how weird all those pieces are. Some are so basic, but others…they have teeth and dimples and pegs. Crazy. I made a hole out of my legos and it completely floored me. Sometime around 10 PM or so I got my iPod and a flashlight and sat in my closet with the door closed for the rest of the night. I found out something about myself in in the dark. Not sure what, but is going to change me just as soon as I work it all out. It is so insane how much you can see when there is nothing to look at. Colors, colors, colors.

I fell asleep in there. I don’t know what time. My mom came in to my room to wake me up in the morning because I was running late for school, ha. She couldn’t find me, but I heard her calling my name. I waited for her to leave, and then crawled out of the closet and walked out to the kitchen, and she was all, “Where the hell were you?” I said the bathroom. She let it go. People tend to let it go with me these days.

I told Sugarbear about my expoits. He got a kick out of it and said we’d have to drop and hang sometime. I must say, I am more than up for it. I think I will stop going to the shrink once a week and do acid instead. If I can keep from getting arrested, that is. I’m back to worrying about when the cops are going to call my house. I am so stupid sometimes that I wonder how I have made it as long as I have without falling into a toilet and drowning.

Be that as it may, something good definitely came out of this weekend. Thank you Craig, where ever you are. You’re a magnificent bastard.