A/N: This is indeed a self-insert fic, despite the fact that generally, I hate self-inserts... well, at any rate, the first chapter is called Essay Writing and Lactose Intolerance and doesn't involve potc too much, but don't worry, the story is a self insert and will be set in potc later. I have tweaked my personality a bit, but that's just a safety precaution.
I sat gloomily at the computer on a cold, bleak Tuesday night, almost in tears, the glow of the screen jarring to the eye in the darkness, trying in vain to write an adequate conclusion to the essay that I was trying to finish in time for the due date—Wednesday, 8:00 AM, my LA class. It was possibly the worst essay I had ever tried to write, featuring run-ons in frightening abundance, incomplete ideas, and a constant theme of self-hatred that most teachers were not fond of or favorably impressed by in writing.
If it had been descriptive paragraphs, I would have pumped out pages, no sweat, and enjoyed it too, but it wasn't, it was formal writing, a paper in which I had to argue the point that the narrator of Poe's "The Telltale Heart" was not insane. And now, my brain, which had been sufficiently fried by my math homework, was nobly insisting that finishing the essay would be lying. Of course the narrator to "The Telltale Heart" was insane, it griped irritably, protesting and stubborn, stoically telling the rational side of my mind that concluding the paper would be some sort of heinous crime. This gave me cause to wonder if perhaps I was insane, seeing that I was arguing—with myself no less—about whether or not I should conclude a paper that was worth at least half of my Fall semester grade. The rational side of my brain woke up from its nap. Who cares if it's lying, I have to finish this paper or I'll flunk the damn class!
"Aaaauuuuggghhh…." I groaned, wishing that I had taken a Lactaid pill with the pizza I had eaten earlier. But no, I had to be stupid and pronounce cockily, much to the amusement of my friends, "Screw lactose intolerance, I'm tired of dealing with it!"
I rushed to the bathroom. This is no way to get my paper done, I thought miserably, but couldn't return to the computer room. I'd probably throw up on the computer. Much wiser to throw up in the toilet, I thought sardonically, my humor bordering on the acerbic as I puked.
"Well, this is craptastic," I muttered under my breath, not wanting to wake up my parents for fear that they wouldn't let me turn my paper in the next day. This paper is the cause of my problems; if it's going to cause me so much trouble tonight then by God it's going to be turned in on time! I thought, wanting to just lie down and sleep.
Instead, I wiped my mouth off with a tissue and washed my hands, trudging back to the computer and stealthily easing myself into the black chair. I smiled in self-satisfaction. I had finally perfected the art of "keeping the squeaky chair silent." I turned my attention back to the unfinished essay. Scowling at it did not help, but I was open to any ideas and gave the glowing computer screen my most hateful glower. No response. A salty, warm tear of self-pity escaped my eye and made its way down my cheek. I swiped angrily at it and impatiently wiped my wet hand off on my faded jeans. I started typing, but what came out wasn't exactly the kind of conclusion I had been looking for.
I don't know why the Hell I'm arguing this damn point. Of course the narrator was insane, he freaking killed a guy and hid said dead person's body under the floorboards! Why would I think he's anything but crazy? Why are we doing this stupid assignment? What's the point? Exactly, there is no point! Except to torture us maybe! I'd much rather be watching Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest, right now. This damn paper is keeping me from my obsession!
I hastily deleted it and grimaced at the computer screen, which seemed to smirk. No, that was most certainly not the kind of conclusion I was looking for. I put my head down almost on top of the keyboard, facing the table and closed my eyes, trying to think. A shiver crawled down my spine and I thought I heard a whirring noise, but I ignored it, thinking, it's probably just the computer or the air conditioning. Or I might be hallucinating from lack of sleep, I added grimly. I sighed and turned my mind back to the conclusion of my paper.Of course, I hadn't intended to fall asleep…
A/N: please review if you get the chance. I'll be adding to this very soon... like in the next two minutes. Those of you who do not know of Lactose Intolerance--it basically means that the person can't eat dairy without throwing up. Or other such nastiness. I hope you like the beginning of my story!
