Note: Hey. This came from a creative assignment in English. This is not the actual copy I turned in; this is longer with more detail and is meant to directly relate to the show. Thanks

(Oh, and I don't actually say any names or anything like that just so it could be more generic for my assignment, but I liked it that way, so I left it, and if you can't tell who is who, than you are not enough of a fan to have even bothered to look for fan fiction on it, so, yeah, it really doesn't matter)

Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own anything, but I can't imagine anyone thinking I did.

"Paranoid"

"There was something n the air that night! The stars were bright! Fernando!" I sing out of tune to the song blaring on the radio. While I would never admit that ABBA did not completely annoy me, something about their music forces everyone who can hear it to sing along. It brainwashes people and forces them into conformity. It must be a tool used by the government to keep people overly happy and optimistic so no one will suspect any of the real deceptions that are taking place in our society. As all of these thoughts went through my head, I quickly changed the radio station to rock and let the sounds of Eric Clapton overcome the temptations of conformity in my head.

I have always been 'politically paranoid' as my friends say, but I just think of my self as aware. I know what is really taking place in our society: corruption. The United States government has become corrupt by its own ambitions of power and is in turn, corrupting the country. People just do not realize that they are taking control from the inside. The country believes that what we are shown is what is happening, but that is not the case. Everything we have been told is a cover, like that the three branches of the government are legislative, executive, and judicial, but the three true branches of the government are corporate, military, and Hollywood.

I finally drive up the drive-way, put my El Camino in park, and stop the engine, stepping out of my car and onto the cement of the drive-way at my best friend's house and the place where I have been staying for a little over a year now. It was nice of them to give me a place to stay when my parents left, but sometimes I just feel like a charity case.

I walk down the steps to the basement and walk inside to find most of my friends already there. They each give his or her own form of acknowledgement ranging from a head nod to an excited 'hello, this is what happened to me today' while I give a grunt of my own and head straight for the chair next to the far side of the old and beaten couch. I sit down and prop my feet on the small table in front of the couch, crossing one ankle over the other, and crossing my arms in front of my chest. My focus immediately goes to the small television in front of us showing 'The Newlywed Game' and I sigh, realizing it will be just another boring day.

Shades still adorning my face, my eyes quickly scan the room, looking for anything missing or out of place. My best friend and the one who actually lives in this house is sitting on the back of the couch with his feet on the cushions while the girl who lives next door and who just so happens to be his girlfriend sits on the couch next to his feet. They are an odd couple. He is just so damn skinny and has the tendency to be a little girly, while she could overpower half of the school's wrestling team and would never even think about yielding to an undeserved scolding from anyone.

Next to her sits our rather dimwitted friend who plans on coasting through life on his good looks and becoming a 'spaceman' in the future. I laugh in my head at this rather tall and lanky friend currently in awe, his mouth wide open and jaw slacked, amazed that a rubber band could really stretch that much. There is hardly a doubt in my mind that one day he will glue himself to something that is on fire. If anyone could do it, he could.

On the chair next to Captain Idiot sits the foreigner of the group and basically the foreigner of the entire town. I have no idea where he is from, but wherever it is, I am fairly certain they do not have electricity. First impressions with him are typically the same for most people. They conclude that he is a hungry and horny weird guy from a place that if they knew where it was, they would avoid it and all its surrounding nations at all costs.

I see only five other people in the room, which means that someone is missing. I know who it is and wonder where she could be, but I do not dare ask. My thoughts are interrupted, though, when I hear the turning of a page behind me. I crane my neck and look back to see the very girl whose whereabouts I had been questioning. She sat atop the deep freeze, her legs crossed, and the latest issue of 'Cosmopolitan' in her hands. The little bitch of the group, and I honestly say that with endearment, who keeps us all up to date on fashion and other trends against our will. Despite the rough start, she is actually a solid member of our little club. We could not get rid of her if that is what we wanted, anyway; her having a more stubborn attitude than an ox and even me sometimes is to blame for that, but even more so to blame is that to be honest, she is not bad to have around. Despite how some of us act and speak towards her, she is just as much of our friend than the rest of us.

I turn my head back around to the television. Everyone is here and everything is the same. We have spent years in this basement wasting our lives away. It is odd for me to think that the government believes delinquents like us are ruining society, when we hardly spend half of our lives as members of society. They are the ones creating all of the nuclear bombs and reducing countries to lands of devastation.

I smirk, thinking of a way for us to spend some time outside as members of society.

"Hey. Let's go trench Old Mr. Sellers lawn."

The End

Note: Yeah, just a little one shot. Tell me what you think. Get it. Got it. Good.