*Ding dong*
I stormed to my door prepared to lambaste whoever had interrupted my reading. It was the mail man. I faked a smile. Received and signed for the package. I was about tossing it across the room when a book slipped out. I wasn't even going to pick it up, then I saw the author's name - @djay_prinze. @djay_prinze is...that's a story for later. With joy in my heart like my granny would say, I picked up the book and started reading. I totally forgot about the previous one.
CLUMSY STEVE by @djay_prinze
"Damn! Why does this damned facial ointment have to sting so bad?," He muttered to himself as he applied a generous portion to an especially troublesome spot. Why did he have to be so scrawny? Why did he have to look like a bean pole? What's the deal with all these malignant pimples? Sure girls fancy tall guys, but only if they got some meat on 'em as well! Why does he have to use glasses thicker than Pamela Anderson's thighs? All these murky thoughts passed through his mind as he looked in the mirror. He heaved a deep sigh and turned away from the mirror only to trip over his carelessly strewn school bag. Even a seasoned ballet dancer wouldn't have survived the trip and as such, he ended up face first on the floor.
He muttered an expletive his father would have developed a stroke on hearing. He wasn't surprised about the fall though. Surprised? Hell he had a reputation for being clumsy and was fondly (as he likes to convince himself) called 'Clumsy Steve'.
He heard his mum's petulant screams before the sound of the school bus and knew it was time to face another soul killing, energy sapping day at a school he constantly had daydreams about blowing up. Throwing the school bag a disgusted look, he picked it up, trudged downstairs, accepted the customary peck on the cheek from the only woman in his life and picked up his lunch pack ( yes he was 17 and still takes lunch packs to school) and went outside to meet the cursed vehicle that usually commenced his suffering.
Climbing aboard, he heard snickers and mutterings and then caught himself in the side mirror of the bus looking like an escaped refugee from one of those troubled Asian countries. Damn! Had he forgotten to comb his hair again? He vaguely remebered holding a comb and that was the last of it. He tried to save a little face by combing his fingers through his wildly curling hair, another curse of his already screwed life. He took his customary seat by the window and shut out the rest of the world. He wondered how his childhood must have been like and how he had survived a day of it. He certainly had no explanation as to how he ended up looking like a drunk, crack head version of Zac Efron now. Being the only child didn't help matters either, with busy parents to boot, he was pretty much a loner in every twisted, messed up sense of the word. The only light in his otherwise dark (nah seems too timid), black world was Melissa.
Melissa, the raven haired beauty that had captured his still developing, adolescent heart 4yrs ago and had stayed right there all those years. She made life worth living and school less gruesome. Oh don't get him wrong, she certainly had no idea he existed but hey, a bloke was allowed his right to dream eh? The bus grunted and mumbled to a stop in front of the sprawling building he called school and as he made to get up from his seat, he saw HER! There she was, his very own Vanessa Hudgens. He kept staring until POW! He planted his head firmly into the wooden seat beside his. Again he could only mutter an expletive, not fully gratified, he tossed in two more for good measure.
It was tough being in the same class as your crush and not offering a word of greeting. The problem with the damned movies he kept watching and by God couldn't stay away from was that the geeks kept getting the maidens but he was sure as hell as he was sure that Ray J didn't 'hit it first' that he certainly wasn't getting the girl this time. Sighing wistfully, he took his seat in class and prepared his mind to go through the day with the mental strength of a bull determined to take down the red garment held up by the Matador. And like a flash,school was over, he did okay by his standards and gave himself a mental pat on the back.
Now, he just had to get through the day at that damned coffee house he worked in. He had to look for a job when his dad had called him, sat him down and spoken to him about 'responsibilities and being your own man', hell he had been 14 at the time! He was still to forgive the old man. His social life failed to pick up despite working in a very public place and he was, if possible, even more anonymous there. He had been working there closing in on two years and still, his boss called him 'Coffee boy' much to his chagrin.
He had been on his shift close to 2hrs when SHE walked in. He saw her and suddenly blanked out! "What in Will Ferrell's hairy ass is she doing here?" screamed his mind. It was hard enough being a 'coffee boy' but having to serve your crush had to be the most hideous punishment ever. Or so he thought until something incredibly amazing happened...
"...and do the harlem shake," Baauer's Harlem shake came blasting through my phone. "You'll be doing the harlem shake in a big bowl of soaked garri," I said to my phone. Reluctantly, I answered the call. Two minutes later, I was headed for the hospital.
