the stupid idea of getting a house with a touch.

It’s me.

But…

Why dont you read this lovely peice I wrote for a reading series (Thats right fuckers, I write).

WARNING: For anyone who might know me, this is a slight exageration of what happened. Oh wait, not really. But it was hammed up for the reading but those of you who were around know what the dealy was.

Enjoy.

____________________________________________

A lot of people speak of their prom night with awe filled tones – or – with utter disgust and hatred. It was either a night of magic, romance and absolute joy – or – it was the scene of a tragedy rivaled …only to Felicity cutting her precious hair in season 2.

Yes…. I did make a Felicity reference.

Ahem… My prom evening wasn’t that interesting at all. But…what lead to my prom night might be considered something of note.

You see I had no plans to go to my prom. At 17 years old …I was in what some might consider a quandary. A predicament if you will. I was at full fledge war with my mother and not living at home. I was in love with a young lady that thought of me as nothing more than a brother (Blood Brother, not Soul Brother, um). And, the real kicker…I was having a major case of bad hair.

Seriously, I looked like the offspring of a Mexican mating with Bob Marley’s dreads. So going to prom really wasn’t in the cards for me.

I was staying at my Evil Grandmothers apartment, which really wasn’t helping my mental state.

She was an active member in the church but…that was just so that she could spy on the armies of good to see what they were planning.

Some people are always horrified by the fact that I refer to my grandmother as evil. To those people I say ‘Suck it.’ I’ve looked evil in the eyes and I called that evil “grandma.”

Evil grandma was giving me lodging reluctantly. You see I had learned that the key to manipulating pure evil is to threaten to expose it for what it is. Evil.

If I ever wanted my grandmother to do anything I’d just ask her in front of other people. She didn’t want to look bad, because how else would she surprise everyone with her demonic ways? She would agree to whatever I asked as long as it made her look good. She’d frown, mutter and curse but I’d get what I needed.

So in a nutshell, I’m having a bad hair year, I’m living with evil, and you can tact on all of the other pains of high school. What could make this worst?

Enter: Roger.

Roger was my arch nemesis. I know that sounds a bit dramatic but obviously you don’t understand the climatic battle that is AP English. We were both in the same circle of friends and we both were vying for the affection of a young lady named Alexandria.

I had been trying to gain her affection for months with my incredible romancing abilities (i.e. constantly spending time talking to her about Beowulf being a Christian allegory and other equally geeky literary discussions). PLUS It was only February and I figured if I were going to ask her to prom, I’d save up the cash and ask around April or May. Only the desperate would pounce this early.

February 27th, 1997.

At 1:46pm - Roger announces to me that he’s asked Alexandria to the prom and she has accepted his invitation. He says it in awe filled tones and regales people around me with his plans for the lovely event.

AT 1:47pm - I start to tear up. But I hold it in because I will not break this easily. He’s trying to make me feel bad and, haha, sorry pal, I’m not that easily broken.

At 1:53pm. I excuse myself from computer class and go to the bathroom to cry just a little because really? Roger had broke me. Really, it is that easy.

The Prom was officially a dead issue.

The months went by and I ignored the Prom Fever that everyone seemed infected with. My friends knew of my plight with Alexandria and suggested I ask her to - prom anyway. I laughed at this notion. Roger was always around Alexandria and he was on one of the Sports teams. Although I was way cooler in senior year than any other year of my High school career, I was still not a jock. I didn’t even watch sports. This battle was lost.

But then the wheels of destiny started to turn.

My good friend Shaquesha (yes, she was black) was going to the prom with this French kid named Volaire.

I didn’t like Volaire because every time he would introduce himself to someone he would always say ‘my name is Volaire. Its French.’ As if we couldn’t hear the pansy in his voice. We know your French asshole. The only way to make it clearer is if you ate baguettes all day, wore a burette and head-butted Italian guys in the CHEST for no apparent reason.

Less than 3 Weeks before prom Volaire backs out of his date with Shaquesha. Something “Tres horrible” occurred and he was incapable of such an insignificant thing as prom. Something about his favorite TV show being cancelled. Shaquesha was of course “Tres Pissed off” because she had bought her ticket and now had no prospects for prom dates because everyone was paired off at this point. I couldn’t even offer to go cause I was broke. So while Shaquesha and I sulked and complained about how much life sucked Douche bag Roger walks by.

“Still not going to the Prom eh Elon? That sucks man. I’ll make sure Alexandria and I have an extra dance for you.”

Now that’s what he said. What I heard was:

“Hey bitch, I’m going with the girl you’re in love with and your gonna be sitting in your grandma’s house picturing how it was. ???Hope you can jerk off and cry at the same time???”

So this was war.

I started to immediately dream up a game plan. I pulled out my notebook and started to draw diagrams and maps and calculate complicated formulas. Then I threw all of that away because how the fuck would that help me get to prom? First thing I needed was money. I needed money fast. So I went to church. Evil Grandma’s always at church.

I walked over to where my grandmother was with all the other church mothers and said in my clearest voice.

“Hey Grandma. The Prom is coming up and I’m broke. Could you loan me some cash?”

My Grandmother didn’t respond immediately…But her face did start to contort. I swore I could read the wrinkles on her skin. They said something like ‘Oh no this muthafucka didn’t’ or ‘Beware of Ryan Seacrest’

I wasn’t exactly sure which.

But all the church mothers turned to my grandmother to see her response. Her contorted face quickly fell and became a softened smile as she said ‘let me see if I can do it honey.’

2 minutes later I was being dragged through the church by the scruff of my neck and my Evil grandma was spluttering incomprehendible gibberish. Something about me thinking I’m slick, trying that shit outside, Vinni – Viddi - Vinci. I don’t know. But I did hear her mumble through the curses ‘I’m gonna give you this money you Sonuva’ but then I zoned out Because I had won the first battle. I had cash.

Next. I needed a ticket to the prom. I went to Voliare to buy his ticket but, fun little fact, he never purchased one.

Asshole.

So now I was shit out of luck. But then there was Darryl Johnson.

You see Darryl had just had a terrible break up with his girlfriend. It was the stuff prom tragedies were made of. Darryl was left with 2 tickets to the prom, a limo, and all this other shit. He decided he would still go but wanted to get rid of his second ticket.

I took a certain joy in this.

Not because I could now buy his extra ticket, but because Darryl was a dick. I almost wanted him to be out of the 115 dollars he paid for the ticket more than I wanted to go to the prom.

When I saw him in the hallway I screamed out, ‘Hey Darryl I need to buy your prom ticket.’ And literally I could see the joy and relief in his eyes. He wouldn’t be out an additional 115 bucks. He was so grateful that he said “dude, I’ll sell it to you for like 80.’

Then I had a flashback.

I remembered one day ninth grade history Darryl participated in an abnormally long session of people dreaming up interesting career choices for my mother (i.e. walker of the night or some sort of semen receptacle.)
I… all of a sudden, with out even thinking, replied, “Eh, I’m thinking 50.”

“50!” he yelled!

“Sorry, haha, 30.”

“30? Kiss my ass. I don’t need your stinkin’ 30…”and then I waved the thirty bucks in his face. I could actually see his soul start to crumble, but he gave me the ticket.

Then I went and found a very sad looking Shaquesha in the cafeteria and told her I was now in fact going to prom

“With who?” she asked. Her question was more an obligatory response to my comment than an actual inquiry about my date.

“Oh, with you of course.” She stared at me, and then gave me a huge hug.

Ha. Money. Date. Ticket. Checkmate bitches. Now where’s Roger?

Roger was sitting at the table with whatever sports team he was a part of. Probably reminiscing over some glory story of how he hit a home run in the forth quarter before fouling out or something sports related.

“Hey Roger,” I yelled, “Where is everyone sitting. I wanna make sure I’m at the right table at prom.”

“You’re…going to prom?” He asked with a little bit of shock in his voice. “You have a ticket, date and tux already?

“Yes, yes and…fuck.”

I had totally forgotten that I would have to actually dress in something besides my jean shorts and sleeveless hoody that I had grown so fond of. It was the middle of prom season. Renting was totally out.

Immediately I enacted the ‘Embarrass Grandma again” scenario but it didn’t really help because even dark magic doesn’t make tux’s appear from thin air. But evil grandma some how took a suit of mine and made it into a tux. I don’t know how, but I think I heard her saying some sort of Latin incantation and we had a headless chicken for dinner that night because she said she had extra.

So in the end I made it to my prom. Dressed impeccably with a lovely girl on my arm and a sense of accomplishment. Not exactly how I wanted it, but I wasn’t a complete loser.

I got a few dances in with Alexandria though. While she and I danced I tried in my nicest most sweet voice to make as much fun of Roger as possible. And she laughed. A lot.

She then asked me a question that rattled me for a week.

“Why didn’t you ask me to the Prom?”

I thought it was obvious. I told her Roger asked her before the winter frost had even thawed so I kind of missed my chance.

“You should’ve asked me.” She said smiling “I would have gone with you. Even after he asked me.” And although the prom continued for hours more. My night was officially done.

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