Broken
For some reason it seems that I'm able to attract the attention of assholes. I don't know if it's my clothes or my hair or what, but there's something about me that they latch on to. So far, I haven't had this problem in college, but when I was in highschool this could be a problem.
In my Freshman English class there was one such guy who sat across the room from me. We'll call him Vinny since I don't want to use his real name. I never noticed Vinny way over there but he had definitely noticed me. In fact, he had developed a rabid obssesion with me from the second he saw me. I didn't realize this until a couple weeks later when I was about to enter the school's main building and I heard "Broken X23... my dawg." At first I didn't know where the voice had come from but when I stopped and looked to my right I saw him standing there, just outside the doors to the restrooms. So now I had been named the "dawg" of this guy who's name I didn't know and who I had never spoken to or even looked at before. To make things even more awkward, Vinny had himself a bitch (the male kind) that he always hung around with so by extension, I became his "dawg" too. He was like a smaller, louder version of Vinny but like most obnoxious jackasses at that age, he was relatively harmless when alone.
Their dedication to constantly watching me could be a bit scary at times. I remember one instance where after our teacher had just inhaled an entire bong by herself during the lunch period and was giving a vague lecture on "words and shit," I got bored and began trying to master the thumb trick. After hearing someone whisper my name, I looked across the room and saw Aunt Rufus and his friend mimicing me. Now I had been pretty discreet while practicing. It's not like I was holding my hands up in the air while doing the trick. No one else in the room had noticed me, so why did these guys have to? And what was possibly more annoying than the fact that they were copying me was the faces they made as they copied me. These guys belonged in a mental hospital. Preferably one in a big iron box at the bottom of the ocean. Though I don't have any proof, I can say with at least 99% certainty that Vinny masturbates to pictures of the various pets he killed while giving himself ritualistic cuts on his neck and chest. Knowing that he was watching me so closely is pretty damn scary.
Unfortunately, these guys weren't the only problem. If a douchebag who sat way on the other side of the room could be affected by my ability to attract their kind, you'd think that any such people who sat near me would be pulled in as well. They were. And there was one on every fucking side of me. Vinny's desk was far away from mine and it wasn't worth screaming at me just to get my attention long enough to point at something I had no interest in seeing, and he was just barely smart enough to realize that. These other guys weren't limited by distance and I was forced into games where the object was to give as many alternate names for a penis as you could think of.
There's no kind of verbal communication more stupid than that coming from someone who's just learned how to unlock the other functions of their genitals. Most of these kids were just dying to put said genitals into something. The sexual tension between two of them was more than nauseating. Apparently their parents fed them all that "there's nothing wrong with you" bullshit when they were growing up. Anyone who would find something appealing about anyone in that class within two desks of where I sat is most likely a sociopathic sexual predator who sees nothing but the color red and thinks the planet Jupiter exists inside his left ear.
One day the teacher assigned group projects and somehow I came to be in a group consisting of Vinny, his bitch, and this other guy who I met on fairly good terms but who gradually turned into a jackass as time went on. He can be John I guess. I can't remember what the project was but I do remember Vinny asking me if I would like to fuck a certain girl in the class or not, which is really a no-win situation. What's sad about this is that that was probably the most intelligent question he's ever asked. Also of note was how everyone had the nerve to bitch at me about not doing any work for the project. "You ain't done mucho nothin'," said John as he angrily looked at me with his bug-like eyes. It was of course bullshit since I had done everything I was supposed to do. If what I was assigned wasn't very much, that's not my fault.
A year later John left the school after his family decided to move to another city. My Sophomore English class decided to send him a goodbye card the size of the goddamn floor. They passed it around and everyone was supposed to sign it and if they wanted to, write sappy poetry about friendship. I did neither. Maybe the John that existed in the minds of everyone else was this great, wonderful, caring friend, but I never saw anything more than an asshole Fred Durst look alike who said things like "You ain't done mucho nothin'." And besides, it's not like any of them would have sent me a farewell card if I went to another school. And when I did go to another school, no one sent me a farewell card. So my actions were justified. Why is he so special that he deserves a card?
When I switched schools I left all those dipshits (and a small handful of decent people) behind and met several more who I don't want to talk about now. Since then, I've managed to avoid ever seeing any of them ever again except for one. The one that I did see again was Vinny's bitch. It was in the Algebra class I'm currently taking in college. He only attended the class a couple times but apparently he was there because he had previously failed the course and was going to repeat it. I guess he decided not to. Oh well.
