Author's Note: Welcome to one of many fanfictions I shall be writing. This story takes place in a noncanonical-AU Universe. I plan it to be in some parts more realistic and in others to be dark. Leaving it at a Teen rating for now for subject matter and language...May up it later depending on where this muse takes me
Dear Beloved Notebook:(as my diary is nowhere to be found in the van)
Time: 11:45 pm
Day: Friday, October 6th
Fred, Unlike Shaggy and I, hasn't been drinking until the floor begins to scramble and jive up the walls.
Glaring, perhaps is the best adjective I could pin to him other than being "butt-hurt" by the amount of fun Shaggy and I have been having with our improv perhaps slightly drunken karaoke
BUT Fred...
1)Hadn't missed his chance to hang at Bucky Mccormick's party.
2)He hadn't cared that we were missing Homecoming for the second year in a row.
3)OR THAT I WAS IN THE LEAD TO BE HOMECOMING QUEEN!)
SO... In my defense, staying in a van for hours upon hours, days upon days, and at times for months (Rent's patience pending in those cases) was rather trying on not only my sense of being able to self-entertain but deal with knowing what I was giving up in exchange.
I, as a seventeen-year-old young lady, can only deal with sooo many fart jokes, boob gawking, and dog barking.(I love Scooby I do! #butagirlhas2sleep #swayingbranchesRnothing2barkat #NEEDTOUSETHESLEEP)
The only other stride of sanity I typically have to cling onto is my bestie Velma Dinkley, but on this case of crashing a party at Lakeshore Manor to figure out if a yacht club was really a drug ring, she decided to be boring as tapioca pudding and stayed back to write her honors English paper.
SHE COULD HAVE GONE TO MCCORMICK'S OR THE DANCE! That crazy girl...If anything at least at the end of this year she'll have her pick of any college she could dream of.
I can't even comprehend what she thinks of me or my declining grade point average, or how if given the chance to be at home Id squander my chance to study just to see if Natalie really did win in my stead. iF kimber wore that yellow dress I was dead certain was against our dress code, or if Brett gave his lettermen jacket to Deedra.
So yes! After sneaking in, and sitting for five hours, I made friends with some of the older gents at the yacht club and propose for fun that Shaggy and I drink like it was going out of style.
Besides by the morrow, you'll read something along the lines of "Lakeshore Manor: A War On Drugs, Takes the Life of Two Locals." or something lame. Dunno yet what I'll write up for the school's "Violet and Silver"...but it's rough witnessing the things I do. I have to take a break from my hectic life sometimes.
Shaggy, tends to provide that escape. Whether it is booze, or special brownies, or even just an ear for me to cry out too.
I'd dare venture out on that thought with saying "I love him." Not more than I do "Fred Jones" or anything, but pretty dang close.
He's just sooo much fun to be around! He makes even my dullest moments lively. Norville(Shaggy) also has an understanding of what I value. He knows how much I adore the Hex Girls, He knows my tastes for strawberries and ice cream, the boy can even tell you how many freckles stretch across my shoulder blades(as his hands perhaps a time or two played dot-to-dot on them against my better judgments)
I know you notebook have very little interests in my day time soapopera...but its hard to tell anyone how I feel.
Velma, I know is crushing hard on this one...she even has told me where they will be wedded, what I shall wear, and when I shall be god mum to Genesisa and Oliver?(Don't ask...This girl has selected and crafted these names and who am I to question her in a world where people name their kids' Hashtag and Burcardi)
Then I have Fred...
but Fredrick Jones is not only my best friend since before I could even hold my head up or look like anything other than a baby alien...BUT he's my betrothed.
I KNOW YOU SAY WHAT!People still do that? It's the twenty-first century...yadda, yadda, yadda! BELIEVE ME, I KNOW...but its true.
Fred's Dad was once Senator of Coolsville and my Father Barty or Bartholomew Blake use to serve as Governor...and with Fred being adopted around the same time of me entering the world...It just sort of seemed like fate? or to keep their money in the family in the long run.
DONT GET ME WRONG...I love Fred! He's like a living Ken doll. He's fashionable, He has this smile that just-I lack the words to paint a proper visual other than it has always melted me even when I thought I would bash his head in with a plastic tea pot(don't judge I was four and he dare threw my doll out of the window because he deemed her spoopy) He can tell when I'm hiding behind a mask, and above all he's basically a walking image of perfection.
BUT!
The boy lacks interest in me. I think he fancies this damn van more than he does me. Anytime, I try to talk to him about something, he always changes the subject. As if he's playing it safe. Sticking to work or mechanical chatter. If I try to do something umm a bit more than talking, he's quick to flee. Like I swear you'd never know I was his girlfriend. The one he use to play wedding with, the one who no matter what he says when he's throwing a tantrum still sticks around, the one despite how many girls he hooks up with offers to repair his image as the group's PR and Media Consultant without making him feel guilty.
Its def he lacks interest in me Or
Perhaps that too may relate to his never ceasing fan club of groupies across the country. I feel I can't even compete with some of these girls.
Shaggy, however never treats me like a second thought. Sometimes, he goes off the radar here and there which is odd, as it's not even like he's at home playing hooky but at least when he returns he resumes treating me as if I exist and perhaps as if I mean something other than being a sponsor and co signer of his paycheck.
Well, Notebook...I really need to start a draft of that snoozeville article for the silver and purple for tomorrow. Perhaps call some gal pals from the party to answer my questions.
xoxoxo
Daphne Blake