THE EIGHTH TIME

Chapter 1

Meaningless

          The Dalai-Lama said that an old day passes, a new day arrives but the important thing is to make it meaningful. That’s all great really, but how are you supposed to do that? How was I supposed to make them meaningful?

          Days went as easily as waking up, getting up, dressing up and sucking up.

          And of course school.

          School sucked. Everyone said that, or thought that at least once in their lives. It was a given. I was no exception. But truthfully, it was better then staying home and mopping around. And at least I could forget about my pathetic life for a few hours.

          Because in the pathetic domain, I excelled.

          I was as average as you could find. Average look, average height, average intelligence. Nothing about me made me stand out; nothing about me made me interesting. I didn’t have any artistic talent. I read a bit but wasn’t one of those book worms. I sucked at playing video games; it hurt my eyes. I enjoyed sports but wasn’t an addict. I wasn’t a jerk or a player; I was still a virgin for crying out loud, I wasn’t a computer genius. I didn’t have perfect grades. The only noticeable thing about me was my suicidal mind. Many attempts; all failed. 

          How pathetic?

          Hi my name is Keegan Bundy and I define and give meaning to myself by my numerous failed attempts at killing myself.

          Oh and I liked quotes. But that wasn’t really something noticeable. I was too dumb to think about nice words so I relied on the ones of brighter people than me.

          Now, today was the first day of my last year of High School. Next year I was going to college, well at least I was supposed to.

          I had no clue what I would do with myself. Truth was I had never made big future plans. I was better at suicide plans. And some might even argue with me on that one considering they all failed.

          That’s what I was. A big fail.

          So today it was a new year. A new grade. A new class.

          Changes were like anything. I didn’t always enjoy them, but even if I didn’t what could I really do about it?

          In a Hollywood movie or a Young Adult book, this would be exciting. I would meet new friends and then there would be this new girl who would end up being an alien and she would make me believed she liked me but then she would end up eating my guts to regenerate her tissues.

          See, even in my life scenarios I died.

          But my life definitely wasn’t Hollywood script worthy.

          So I walked to school, my eyes on the ground, careful to not walk on the lines of the sidewalk, hands in pocket.

          If I just threw myself in the street when a car was coming I wouldn’t even need to go to school today. But with my luck I would probably end up paralyzed from neck down and force my mom to quit her job and stay home to take care of me. And that was not an outcome I wanted to risk.

          But it would be easy.

          If I was a Physic geek I would probably know how fast the car should be going and where exactly I should be throwing myself to be sure to die. But I wasn’t a Physic geek. I did the exams and passed them. That’s where my knowledge stopped. I couldn’t tell you the equations by heart. I need my sheet for that.

          When I walked into school, it was just like last year. I was awkward and pathetic. I felt out of place and didn’t know where to go or who to talk to to begin with.

          Now and then, when I couldn’t spot my “usuals” I went and hid in the library. I wasn’t a book geek but I sometimes looked through ones to find quotes I would write into my white pages notebook. Or I would pretend reading and sit at one of the tables. At least I would look like a complete retard, standing in the middle of the halls.

          But I didn’t head there today because I wanted to find my locker first. If I was in a Hollywood movie again I would end up having to share it with the hot alien chick which could inflate her tits with her mind. But when I reached my locker, the only trivial thing there, was old gums stuck on it from the previous owner. And a lot of it. It almost looked like a sculpture. Actually I think that’s what the person had been aiming for.

          Hi my name is Keegan Bundy and I inherited of an old chewed gum sculpture. Probably full of herpes.

          I wondered if chewing one of the gums could kill me. But it probably only would get me sick. Or just make me look really gross.

          And how was I supposed to get rid of those gums?

          I lifted my leg and tried to unglue them with my feet. The thing was pretty dry on top but the second layer was still warm and sticky and I stopped trying to not end up having to buy new shoes or fall miserably on my ass, or knocking the blow-up tits alien.

          That’s when a voice rang behind me, calling my name and I turned around to face Paxton.

          Paxton was the nerd guy at school. But not the overly intelligent you almost drop your jaw when you hear him talk kind of nerd. Not even the amusing Star Wars Star Trek type of nerd. No just a generic nerd who had all the applications possible on his TI-83 calculator and was proud to show it to everyone during math class.

            He was also one of my not many friends. Because I needed to have friends. It was all part of the pretence in order to not have people noticing me. If you were too much of a loner you’d get notice. And then you’d go see the school shrink and you’d have to talk about all your issues. And that wasn’t something I fancied.

            So I was friend with calculating lover, sometimes morally questionable Paxton.

            I was also friends with Galen, aka Glenn, aka Quagmire. He had heard too many jokes about Gayland so now most of us just called him Glenn. Either way it fitted him perfectly because Galen knew everything there was to know about Family Guy. He could keep up an entire conversation with only Family Guy’s quote and said “gigitty” like no one else could

            And finally Derek. Honestly Derek creeps me out a bit. He was a great guy and all but sometimes he said things and I feared for my life. If I had to map out the behaviours of a serial killer I think it would resemble Derek. And the way he smiled at you sometimes, you swallowed loudly and tried to get out of the room as fast as possible but I’m guessing that being his friend and hanging out with him will save me when he decides to come to school with an AK-47.

            “So? Glad to be back” Paxton asked, pushing his glasses up his nose.

            Seriously? What kind of question was that?

            “Yes, I’m just holley-jolley about the whole thing. And at the end of the day I’m planning on flushing my head down the toilet for kicks and giggles” I answered him rolling my eyes and started to transfer a few binders and other stuff from my overly heavy bag to my locker calculating the place the gum would take when I would close the door.

            Would flushing my head down the toilet kill me? Was that a possibility in the whole great self-destructing scheme of Keegan Bundy?

            And who said kicks and giggles? Seriously I lacked people skills in a whole new level.

            “Look man, you have to see the greater picture here. New year means new students. And that means new chicks that don’t know I threw up during the birth video in sex Ed.

           “And here I thought that was one of your many endearing qualities” I laughed.

           Pax punched me on the arm “Shut up dude! Look all I want this year is a girlfriend.”

            “Well good for you. But I have other plans this year,” I informed him, closing my locker, feeling the squishiness of the gums pressing against the binders already in it.

            “Like what,” Paxton asked.

            Killing myself.

            “Well getting a scholarship for one thing. I’m not getting into college with my mother’s pay check. I might need to find a job too” I invented and found the thought quite possible. And probably necessarily to accomplish if I failed my next suicide attempt too…

            “What about your dad? He’s loaded. Can’t he give you money? Because I don’t want to shit on your parade Keegan but I doubt you’ll get any scholarship with your grades or your football playing skills”

            My dad… It was out of the question.

            My parents had separated because they couldn’t stand the other anymore. They wanted completely different thing—that’s what they explained to me I still don’t know what those different things they wanted is or was—still point was my mother couldn’t stand the sight of him. She couldn’t even stand the thought of him. I was lucky she even accepted the barely-there child support of him.

            But we needed it. And my father, living in his coke dealer mansion in West Palm Beach—alright he’s not a coke dealer, that I know of, but still the house is huge—with his twenty one year old on fake IDs girlfriend, had a lot of money and he could spare a few Benjamin Franklin in order for me to get two meals per day. But I’m diverting here…

            “Isn’t there any other way to get one?”

            “Honestly I don’t know… Art maybe,” he shrugged, walking with me in the halls.

            “It’s still in the project state anyway… I’ll think about it later…”

             Because I don’t plan on going to college. But I plan to die.

            “So? Homeroom with Mrs. Orson?” Paxton asked, changing the subject.

            I nodded, “Yep”

           “I heard she finally got that boobs sucking job. Talk about spitting in the face of God over such a nice gift”

            I stopped walking and looked at him, perplex. “Pax… she can rest her boobs on her knees.”

            Paxton shrugged. “Hey, a guy takes what he can.”

            “You need a girlfriend,” I laughed shortly, shaking my head.

            “I couldn’t agree more,” he sighed.

          I walked into class with Paxton, taking a seat in the middle of the room at one of the many double tables. Paxton was leaning against the wall and I was sitting beside the aisle.

          Mrs Orson was already there and while she had lost a considerate amount of boobs they still rested on her lap.

          Gross.

          I was trying to remember the physics calculus of gravity that would allow me to guess at what point they would mop the floor when she walked in the class.

          Cue the fan blowing her hair everywhere. Should I be making a face like she smells awful so she’ll sit beside me in hope I am the new sparkly guy next door?

          I felt bad for a second for actually knowing that.

          Hi my name is Keegan Bundy and I have found a new reason why I should kill myself today.

          Anyway, back to the hot chick.

          The girl who walked in was romance perfect. Blond perfect natural hair, or at least my dude knowledge lead me to believe it was natural… her eyebrows were blond too. Now I heard they could bleach those but it would probably be rude to ask if I could see the carpet to know if it matched color with the drapes so I decided to side with the “she’s naturally blond” theory.

          Wow kill yourself now Keegan…

          So blond hair and well from where I sat I couldn’t see the color of her eyes, honestly why did people say eyes color right away? You can’t tell eye color from afar.

          Still when she walked pass my seat, I stared at her like a moron and noted; blue. Ocean blue. But Atlantic ocean blue; with green into it.

          Of course she had impossibly long legs that were enhanced by that short skirt she wore, and had and impossibly nice rack; I hoped not enhance by chirurgic but by the natural gift from God to us man.

          She was the stereotype hot and she was officially the alien in the class but truth be told, I didn’t care. She could feed on my bowels. The chick was unbelievably hot. The kind of hot you know you will be jerking yourself at the thought of for the next weeks or years.

           Hi my name is Keegan Bundy and I would like some Kleenex please.

            Paxton beside me, kept giving me little back slap with his hand on my arm, obviously to show his appreciation, but I didn’t bother looking at him, I just stared at the girl. It was completely stupid and pathetic of myself to do so and like a moron I might add, especially since the teacher had started to talk and I had my body completely turned the other way and my mouth probably hanging open but I couldn’t help it and so couldn’t the full percentage of straight guys in the class and the single butch lesbian.

            “Keegan Bundy” Mrs Mopey-Booby called out and my body snapped back to the front of the class, faster than I had though possible. Developing super-speed would definitely be the highlight of my life right after Miss-Alien-Movie-Perfect-Boobs-Begging-To-Be-Played-With-girl. Okay that didn’t even make sense for me. If I wasn’t planning on killing myself soon I should seek psychological help, no doubt.

            But back to the task at hand, I raised my hand, and said “Here,” to make sure I would be present on the attendance list. I mean the least I should get for coming here in the first place was being noted as being here.

            For some reason though, after I raised my hand, I’m sure I heard someone snorting “Bundy”, but when I checked back to see who had, my eyes navigated in their own accord down Miss Perfect cleavage.

            Hi my name is Keegan Bundy and I would like to play with you. Please?

            Okay this was not a road I was supposed to go on. Average Keegan wasn’t going to score alien chick. Average suicidal Keegan couldn’t even get any girl. Average suicidal psychotic Keegan remembered Loraine rejecting him and he remembered that it just gave him more of a reason to kill himself and average suicidal psychotic boring Keegan didn’t need more reason to kill himself, he already had enough, and now he could add talking to himself at the third person to that list.

            So I stopped looking up the promise land the new girl’s legs lead to and turned my attention back to the front of the class.

            After the teacher was done with the attendance she started to ramble about this new year that began, the last in High School that we have been graced with by His Heavenly Lord—I have no clue when I enrolled in private catholic school but apparently Mrs Orson new lack of boob was now being compensated with fate. Wasn’t what the nun ugly chick did? Turn to God because they had nothing else?  

            It was mean to think that way; it would probably make me go to Hell to think that way but hey! I was planning on killing myself; I was already doomed. And if God really gave a rat’s ass about us, about me, he would have done something prior to 9AM homeroom class. Yes the new girl was nice to look at but I could go on thousands of porn site that could give me a more throughout vu. God had never given me anything. So why should I gave him something?

            My life wasn’t even worth crap, it was meaningless.