Okay, so let's do this...
And, umm... since I don't live in, nor have I ever been to New York, I may not be exact on addresses and stuff.
When I woke up, Mustardseed wasn't there and neither was my food. I suspected her punished me for not paying attention to him go on and on and on about stuff that doesn't matter to me. I lifted my head off the table and saw he left boring paperwork for me. That was new. I picked up the thin stack of papers and flipped through them... this is what they said, or, at least what I read, "Blah, blah, yadda-yadda-yadda, Puck please attention, blah, blah, blah, I should have been an only child" and so on. Pretty much what he says twenty-four seven.
I got up from the booth and started for the door. And then, too lately noticed that my shoes laces were tied together. I could feel my body fall and crash to the floor. Although, it didn't hurt. I stood up and almost fell again, but luckily a gigantic, furry thing (I have no idea what it was) braced me. I looked down and figured out that my laces were not tied together. Thinking it was just one of those days, I tried, once again, for the door. Then (yes, THEN) I heard my mother's voice behind me.
"OH! My little boy heading off for High school!" She cried.
I turned around and saw Mustardseed standing beside her. I wanted to kill him. Chase him out off Faerie and into the streets of New York. But I didn't. I just stood there, looking at my mother with a blank expression (I find that it makes people confused and won't bother talking to you any further.) But, today, this didn't faze her. She rushed towards me and hugged me. I struggled to get away but her grip was too strong. I let her win.
"Uuuuhh, Mum? This is just like any other, er, 'mission' I've been on. The only difference is the first word is 'high' and the second word is 'school'." I explained.
She shook her head. "Oooh, my little baby. I was talking to Mrs. Brenton and she said high school means your children are growing up and, ohh!" She started crying again. I couldn't take it.
Mrs. Brenton is my mother's best-human-friend. She uses Mrs. Brenton as her Research Dummy. Whenever Mum needs to know something about humans, she turns to Mrs. Brenton (by the way... I don't think Mrs. Brenton has a first name. And if she does, it's probably something ugly, like, Turdface or Footstench. Yepp, she's really ugly.)
I pulled away from Mum and looked her in the eyes. "Mother... I'm over four-thousand-years old... technically I should be dead by now. I think I'm 'grown-up' enough."
She shook her head again. "Tell that to your ever changing body." She stroked my cheek. "By the way, you should really start shaving."
"MUM!" I yelled, stepping away from her. "I have to go now." I turned around and started, yet again, for the door. I paused for a second. Hoping no one would interrupt me again. I opened the Golden Egg's front door and looked behind me. Mother was still crying. Mama (Mother Goose) was comforting her, and Mustardseed, my evil little brother, was waving at me evilly with an evil glare in his eyes. He was smirk evilly as well. It was a spitting image of myself when I was his age (three-thousand and something/fourteen.) I rolled my eyes. Stepping outside, I was blinded by sunlight, but the fact that it was drizzling and cloudy, I assumed I was making excuses not to go.
"C'mon Puck! It's just like any other thing you've done..." I thought aloud, causing two pedestrians to look my way, scowl, and walk faster. "I mean... just because, like...bleh, I suck at this 'Man-Up Speech' stuff." I started towards a bus stop. With each step I felt more nervous. In fact, when I approached the bus stop and saw the bus I needed was already boarding, I felt like I was going to throw up. I put a foot onto the steps of the bus, still feeling queasy.
"You OK, kid?" The bus driver asked, chomping on a big wad of pink bubblegum.
That reminds me, I'm running out of Burst Your Bubblegum
"Uhhhh, yeah, just... umm," I said as I put some money in the change box (I never understood why I need to pay to go on a disease infested cesspool people call transportation) and found a seat near the back. Luckily, I was alone, and it didn't seem like any fat, smelly, sweaty person was gonna hobble over to me, sit down and start panting (as it has happened, many, many, many times.) I swung my backpack off my shoulder (notice I didn't say "shoulders") and took out my cell phone from my pocket. Yes, I have a cell phone, why is that so surprising? Mum thought, if I was going to be out and about most of my natural life, I better have some kind of connection to her if I just happen to get into some kind of trouble... yep, she just realizes it now, when I'm pretty much safe, but whatever. I don't really have anyone to call on it, except Mustardseed (who receives the occasional prankcall from moi), mum (who is fascinated by simple technology) and Pizzahut... so, calling isn't really what I use it for, but, Pacman is great. I'm trying to beat the best recorded score... no luck so far, but I intend to beat it by the time my birthday comes around. And if I don't, well, there goes my New Year's Resolution.
I looked down at the screen, Selected Pacman, and started making the little quarter cut orange thing start eating the cookies and the ghost things. But only when you run over a piece of "fruit" and then the ghost become edible? Ha, so UNrealistic. But nonetheless, it keeps the quarter-cut orange from dying, so that's a plus.
I've noticed recently, that people don't like the Bleep-Bloop sound of a circle eating like a pig and square looking squids chasing the pigish circle. They'll say "Dammit kid! Shut that horrible sound off before I come over there and pound your face in!" Well, they didn't ACTUALLY say that, but it's clear on their face. It's quite hilarious and amusing. They especially like it when you start talking through all of the "characters.) "Duuuuude, Pacman! Yo gettin' so fawt! Stop dat eatin'!" "Shut up, Blue Squiggle! He probs needs his food to become beeeeeg and stwong!" "Pink Squiggle, why do you get so protective of Pacman?... you DO know he has a wife, right?" "YELLOW SQUIBBLE! YOU DARE THINK AND SAY THAT I HAVE A CRUSH ON...!" "Guys! Shut.!Up.! I'm eating here! **chomps on a cherry**" See? Isn't that just annoying? Oddly... I've grown attached to the little hot-headed, neurotic freaks I created. Especially Yellow Squibble, he's cool. Anyway, I've also learned that if you kind of slouch in your seat (make sure you don't get a double-chin, that's just disgusting), play Pacman on an unusually high volume level, and yell "I'm SINGLE!", you'll get a lot of dates. Umm... yeah. Aha. Me. Puck. The Trickster King, the leader of hooligans, creator of A.R.F.U. (Angry, Royal, Fairies united), the-! ARRRRGH! Sorry. Pacman just screamed at me, practically saying "IDIOT! YOU LET ME RAM ME HEAD-WHICH IS ALWAYS MY BODY-INTO A WALL AND GET STUCK! THEY ATE ME! Stop your daydreaming and PAY ATTENTION TO THE GHOSTS INFRONT OF YOU!" Probably the best advice I've gotten all day. Of course, I haven't really gotten advice today, so duuuh, the first advice I get would be the best, but whatever. I'll have to remember that for later. Might save my life. Or make a quick buck. I could stand on top of the Empire State Building with a megaphone and yell "TAKE MY ADVICE! PAY ATTENTION TO THE GHOSTS INFRONT OF YOU!" and see the people look up at the ESB and start freakin' out. That'd be pretty cool. And productive. Productive is always good, makes you feel like you accomplished something evil... or good, depending on what kind of lame-o you are.
Anyway, I just noticed this girl staring at me and chirping to her friend (I'm assuming), and giggling. Too funny. Also: SEE? That thing I was just talking about, one... two... well, a lot of words ago. It works like magic. No, seriously, I think they add some kind of enchanting stuff to cell phones. Or maybe it's just the low-level radiation? Either way, it gets quite useful. Except when they automatically add 911 to speed-dial and you're charged 250 bucks for calling Emergency when it's NOT an emergency! God, Mum threw a fit. Months allowance out the window! And with over 4,000 years of lying and devious acts, she didn't believe when I said that my phone did it by itself. Which, I guess is fair. But I want to know when I started caring about what is "fair" or not. Maybe I've caught some kind of disease or something? I really hope so. Could not stand it if I turned into some kind of pimply, over connected to my feelings, mushy teen! That'd suck. I've already lost the ability to stop eating, I don't want to lose my ability to not care!
I just realized this bus ride is extreeeemely long. It's getting boring. Also, I'm hungry. Greaaaaaaat. Don't ask why I'm longating words, I just am... FYI, I just stuck my tongue out at you. Whoever "you" is. It's starting to creep me out how I talk to myself like there's actually someone listening, reading, or watching my every move. Must be an Everafter thing. Once your life has been stuck into a book, you kind get that feeling, I guess. I'll have to ask some other Everafters if they ever get that feeling.
YEEEEEEEEEEEES the bus finally stopped! I was starting to get nauseous of the stench of years of people, sweat, and olde people (you can tell I mean OLD when I put an E.) Who would've thought a half an hour on a bus would be so hard on your legs? Felt like someone took out my bones and replaced them with Cherry Jell-O. I don't know why CHERRY specifically, but that's what it feels like. It took a while get the strength (and courage) to face 4 12-inch steps. But then I got a un-friendly shove from an old guy (see? not so old so no E) and the bus driver. Plummeting towards hard concrete, I thought for the worst; broken nose, missing teeth, and eyeball protruding out of my head. Concussion, heart attack, mono. The whole package. And just as I was about to brace myself for millenniums of ugliness, nothing happened. Except for, you know, the gasping of about 23 people. Oh god! I thought. My wings popped out! I just know it! Any minute now, guys in lavender suits and pink ties will put me on a ambulance bed thing and take me a while to the centre of the earth, where they'll out me through numerous tests. They'll question me, ask me about Everafters and my killer taco spice. Chinese water torture, catapults and make me... wear... SOCKS WITH SANDALS! On the verge of tears, no guys in lavender suits and pink ties took me to the centre of the earth. My wings we intact, folded and hidden nicely under magic or other. People gasped only because I managed to catch myself from smushing my face into cement. Which, you have to admit, is pretty cool. I guess.
I got up, brushed myself off, and walked... down the way I was walking. Sorry, I don't know the name of where I am. I never use addresses. It's always "Um yeah, I have to get to that place. You know? The one with that huge green French girl? She's holding some kind of olde century Olympics torch and wearing spears on her head?" "...the statue of Liberty?" "Oh! You know of her?" "Yeah, kid..." See? They always seem to know where you're going, if it's some kind of landmark. If it's anything else they just start laughing and kick you out of the cab. It's so rude!
The school I'm supposed to be at is called St. Incomp High. Which is just a terrible name for a highschool! "Incomp" reminds me of "incompetent" which isn't exactly what you want your students to be... but then again, I've never really been in school, so they might want exactly the opposite of what I thought it would've been; sharply dressed, mannered, smart students. And THAT wasn't the vibe I got when I got when I walked into St. Incomp. (Aha! I was only, like, two feet away from it! Stupid school is so small and so is the sign!)
Kids of every height, size, colour, and gender! It looked like some kind of hormonal zoo... and strangely I felt like I fit in. Which creeped me out even more, aside from that it seemed like every girl there was staring at me. I returned the stare. Newton's Law, ya know? I think... Hey! I'm not supposed to know that stuff! I am the Trickster King, duuhhee. While I'm thinking this, I've been rammed in the shoulder AT LEAST six times. Bleh, first day of the rest of my life and I'm already in searing pain. So, I'm making my way to the, like, office where that head guy is (with a dislocated shoulder) and see if I can't squeeze in somewhere. And then all of the sudden, this shrill sound fills the halls and every kid in the school scramble in different rooms, leaving me by myself in a beige painted hallways. I was fully expecting whistling and tumbleweeds.
"Wow... this is like, a ghost town... but it's not a town," is the only thing you'll here from before I grab the handle to WHAT I thought was the front office door, turn it, open the door, and a broom nearly falls on my head. Apparently the universe doesn't like my head/face part of me, which personally, I thought was the best (other than my charming personality and smokin' bod), but seriously? Not cool.
So? What happens when you mistake a broom closet for a principle office, have no one to ask where said office is, and forgot your iPod? Yep, pointless wandering. I remember wandering around Honolulu a couple (as in "couple", I mean at least twenty...) years ago and finding a stranded Giant Dolphin (there was only ONE left in the entire world! And as you can guess, that was it), and about fifteen buff looking guys who were obviously squished by the huge mammal. They didn't look very alive, and the dolphin didn't look very wet, but hey, made a good story. Kind of. At least Simon the Simple liked it! I'm pretty sure they made the game "Simon Says" and "Simple Simon" about him. He always used to tell us to do random stuff, such as eat a tree, or jump on one foot while sticking bugs up our noses. It isn't as fun as it sounds...
I should really write Simon a letter. I bet sixty bucks he's in Turkey... telling them to eat turkey.
Okay, not the best chapter, but three is gonna be pretty awesome. I have that one planned out almost perfectly, this one I was just wingin' it, lol.
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