Not Exactly A Short Story.

Hi, my name is super destructive lunatic.
What’s yours?
I think that if this becomes something famous the cover should have a warning sign.
OOH, I’M SO DANGEROUS. Hahaha, joke joke joke.
I would say I only have one reason to do this, writing and stuff.
It’s tradition.
Y’see, I’m doing a continuation of something my buddy Chris started.
Well, he’s sort of like my rival and enemy, but we’re friends if you know what I mean....like, fake hate and all.
And so, right now I have my sick grandmother over at my house, only because she’s got cancer and stuff.
And right now she told me to ‘git mah heiney over ‘dere’ Loverly.
Well, the fact is, since she squeezed Chris’s brothers butt when they all came over for July Fourth, Chris isn’t too keen on coming over anymore.
Neither is Mike for that matter.
I can’t believe Mike is all ready for college.
Oh, well.
Off the subject of old Granny and her squeezing guys butts obsession, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.
I just didn’t have ideas. I still sort of don’t, I’m just going to put down whatever happens.
But I recovered from my serious problems.....like.....hobbies and stuff.
They’ve improved quite a bit, now I don’t only stare at punks, but also gothy people too!
And you know what?
Yesterday I got the bird from one of them.
I guess they sort of lack manners sometimes.
I lack manners a lot, but in a different sense.
Like, I’ll start drooling if I get bored, or when I’m really bored I start asking people what colour their underwear is.
It’s just typical me, okay?
Nothing’s really wrong with me, I’m just.......not normal all the time.
I have been called insane many times.
So I guess I sort of am. But it’s really fun. Except for the part where people underestimate me and think I don’t have a brain, then it’s time to pull out the brains and say a really hard math problem I knew and forget the answer so I get it wrong.
Basically, I’m the laughing stock of this whole small town.
Every kid knows me, I have fame. Not the fame you’d want, but I do.
So I get credit.
Some credit.
Okay, not so much.
Fine.

Anyway, now I have to get mah heiney over there to my Grandma, apparently something big just happened on the TV and she needs to tell me, besides, I want some food.
Ta-ta for now.
-Saren.
Oddball, goofball, and all of those types of things.
Blah blah blah.

Interview No. 1
Granny (don’t ask why I chose her)
Profile: She’s old, and boring, and likes squeezing ‘young men’s’ -ahem- Bottoms.

“SAREN! Git yer heiney over here and help out yer ol’ GrandMAH”
“Sure thing, Gran.”
“Now, not in that sassy tone. Have some respect!”
“All right.” *I replied in sugary sweet voice.
“Much better! Now, what’s this about interviewing? Whatchu want interviewing me?! I AIN’T GONNA GIVE YOU NO MONEY, CHILD.”
“Oh, um.”(I can’t keep this voice up much longer) “I need to interview people for a project and -coughcough- well, I thought I’ll start with you!” *Note, have I ever asked her for money?
“Oh....well, I guess that’s acceptable for a young lady to do. Although I want to tell you that in my day ladies always wore dresses and such and hardly ever worked.” She scoffed at my jeans and t-shirt.
“Oh, please.”
“AND THEY DIDN’T DISRESPECT THEIR ELDERS EITHER!!!!” she shouted quite loudly at me.
“All right, I get it. Let me just ask you a couple questions.”
“Only one dear.”
“Three.”
“ONE!”
“TWO!”
“ONE!!! CURSE YOU LITTLE DEVIL!”
“TWO!”
“Fine.”
“First question.....what was your favourite thing to drink?”
“Well.....I would say coffee.”
I had a blank face.
“Well, child, what’d you expect? LIQUOR? IS THAT WHAT YOU KIDS DO TODAY? DRINK?”
“Um, no. Thanks....”
“Hmmph.”
“What’s your favourite colour?”
“RED! LIKE BLOOD! NOW GET OUT!”
“Fine.”
I left.
And she screamed her head off.
She’s really nice, huh?

I spent the afternoon staring at my leg.
I guess you could say I have a nice leg.
It’s sort of pale, and it’s got this one scar from when I suddenly decided to run down this steep hill and I tripped and fell over a log and really bloodied up my calf.
Now children, that’s what you call a run on sentence.
One thing for you all to know.
A hyper child is not just cute looking, they are EVIL.
Would you like to know how I discovered?
Quite simple to tell you, really.
This five year old was hyper and he started climbing this tree even though I told him not to and he kept climbing, and climbing, and climbing, and then, he slipped, and fell on top of me.
It really hurt.

Poem No. 1

Nothing really matters.
Since it's not really important.
To know what's going on in my life.
Because
I weird you out.
Way too much for your own taste.