Take second best
Put me to the test
Things on your chest
You need to confess
I will deliver
I'll make you a believer

Personal Jesus ~ Marilyn Manson

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The first couple of rounds of classing turns out to be a complete bust. At least until my last class before lunch, Sex Science with old Mrs. Holtz. Who probably should have retired back when they stopped teaching creationism and started putting condoms on cucumbers for show and tell. As soon as we walk in the door, old lady Holtz hands us a syllabus then assigns us a lab table for the year. 

Then the first-day bullshit break, where we are now required to introduce ourselves to our neighbors. Which is so seriously stupid under the circumstances it's not even funny. Seeing that after the last three years of classing it up together, most of us already know each other only all too well. Only the two new kids can benefit from this at all, and no one wants to talk to them yet anyways. At least not until after we can figure out if they are the new narcos or not?

Of course, my gang of four at the far lab table corner by the back door just has to have one of the two new kids. Some strange Newguy, whose name I must have missed. Or I forgot to remember as soon as I heard it, because couldn't be bothered to care? Even if he does have soft aqua velvet, eyes peeking out from under his sorta shaggy off blond cute Kurt Cobain hair. 

Who of course you already know is kinda cute in a curious new guy way. But that is only because he is new to the hallowed halls of high school hell. So therefore, he looks all exotic and foreign to our only too familiar sea faces. Kind of like finding one of them butt-nakkid Amazon foreign exchange kids in class for the first time? You know the type, all bronze-skinned and sporting that snazzy red mud bowl haircut. Rocking one of those little quirky cone Amazonian jockstrap things, that they are all so fond of on the National Geo Chanel?

"Oh my dog, Quetzalcoatl is so hot! Er...not!" 

Although I really have to wonder if Quetzy has one of those cute little boar tusk bone through his balls? Dogdamn, what the holy hell is wrong with me today? Eject that boar tusk bone into the mental trash incinerator with the rest of the foul filth. I think the evil alien mold that is the Dreck might have rubbed off on me. Ewww, Dreck rubbing...burn, burn, burn!!!

So other than Quetzicoatal, the other two in my gang of four are Marvin Martin and Leanne Riggs. Leanne, aka The Wyrd Wiccan Girl with the Dragon Neck Tattoo. Who practically oozes with sick style of skull-and-crossbone toxicity that I really related with. Leanne and I have been in a couple of classes together down through the years. She is one of those weirdly edgy crazy-cool deviant art chicks, who highlights her black hair with deep purple streaks. Who listens to Melanie Martinez music on the regular.

While Leanne and I are not friends by any means, but we aren't enemies either. Just two girls who run in very different circles, trying to make it through the hell of high school with our souls intact. Albeit, to varying degrees of soul-sucking success in the process. I know that according to the Ancient Laws of High School Cliquery, I am supposed to loathe on Leanne. To think that she is a lesbian looser and a skanky stoner slut bitch. With that being said, I truly value Leanne's toxic presence in my universe... because I simply love her hatred.

Leanne does anything and everything she can to draw in the conservative hypochristian hetero-hate. Because Leanne feeds on hate like a little lesbian psychic vampire...and I adore her all the more for the fear and loathing she inspires. She advertises her hate so well, it inspires me to try to emulate her in my own way. Hell, sometimes I wish I could be her.

For starters, she has one of the sickest neck tattoos I have ever seen on a girl. The tattoo in question is an almost infinitesimally small dragon eating its tail in figure-eight, located just behind her right ear lobe. Like some kind of secret sapphic infinity sigil, whos dark magic allows her to feed on fear for all eternity. Keeping her badass little evil ass elf-self forever young, and full of her dark love and loathing.

Leanne's favorite sweatshirt is a huge hoodie that says Witch Craft with all kinds of weirdly wonderful Wiccan symbols up the sleaves. She always wears a matching pentagram necklace, and routinely adorns herself with all sorts of ancient arcane feminine mystery magics. Like the big spikey pink triangle rings on all the fingers of her left hand, as a set of badass Hello Kitty brass knuckles. 

She sports black Nike track shoes, but with the "N" in Nike spelled with a pink triangle 🛆. Just in case it was lost on anyone, that Leanne likes the ladies. She decorates her locker and all her books with LGTB NOH8 stickers, with crossed AK-47s.

As if all that wasn't enough to enrage the most conservative crusader hater? She even makes her own silkscreen T-shirts, with all kinds of crazy cool slogans. Like Wyrd Wiccad Witch Bitch and Magic Chick Magnet, but spelled backwards. Not sure what the backward spelling thing has to do with the underlying message? But whatever it means, you can almost be assured that it is deep, dark and probably pretty dirty?

Hell, sometimes I almost wish I could be an uber-cool lesbian like Leanne. So that I could hang out with her and she could introduce me to her dark and forbidden world of lipstick love. But alas, c'est la vie ...no mas chicas amor por mi.

Marvin Martin, on the other hand, I can hardly stand to be around. Starvin' Marvin is the incessant do-gooder type, one of those infernal kids that are really into causes. Like saving the white whales and feeding the homeless in Antarctica. Even though I have no idea what these two things have to do with each other? 

Although I am always tempted to ask Marvin, what would he do if the whales could feed all of Antarticans? Like who really wins in that scenario? Cause after the Anatarcticans eat all the whales, they are still going to be starving again eventually, right? The eternal argument of people versus the planet or nature versus nurture? 

But dear dark Lord Lucifer help me, my curiosity has not reached the level where I actually want to ask him. For fear that he would tell me ad neaseum, just how politically wrong I was for asking that question in the first place?

I think the thing about Marvin that I can't stand the most ...is that I used to be a lot like him. Not the constant cause thing he is forever feeding, but the root cause? His decided lack of self-esteem, all super needy, and craving other people's approval for his sense of self-worth. Marvin is sofa king starving for attention and peer approval, it hurts to watch him try and fail to act like a real boy. Not that this has ever stopped him from sharing all his caring. 

So based on my years of experience with this incessant idiot, I already know that Starvin' Marvin is going to do the talking for everyone in my group. Which is just fine with me. Because after the morning that I've already have had so far, I am not really fit for civilized company. Let alone feeling the need to share my thoughts and foul feels with anyone. 

Besides Leanne is apparently already busy feeding on the lovely loathing of some cheerleader chick to care. Magically cutting off the circulation to the Cheerios nearly braindead head, as Leanne psychically strangles her with her way too tight ponytail. Something I smile in complete satisfaction over. Cause in my humble opine, Cheerios really do need a lot less adoration and a lot more loathing. And Leanne Riggs is just the girl to give them that good karmic radiation they so desperately need, to wither and die on the vine.

"Hey guys, how was your summer vacation? Did you go anywhere great, or do anything interesting?" Marvin starts up the stupid, so that he can segue into his own world of wonder. 

"Nope, nada, nothing, not it." I shrug him off back over to Leanne. 

Where I am hoping like hell, she will smack the shit out of him, so he will shut up. True to form, Leanne immediately starts multitasking her hate on two fronts. She rolls her smokey kohl eyes over at the offender and freezes Starvin' Marvin with her cold glare stare.   

"Marvin ...don't ever call me a guy again, or I will have to hurt you. That's an offensive sexist pig term promulgated by your misogynistic planned-parenthood-bombing patriarchy. So unless you feel like getting slapped around some this fine foul first morning? I strongly suggest you refrain from pissing me off any more than you already have."  Leanna waves him away absently with her spiked pink triangle rings of death.

"That is unless you wanted to show all us heathens, just how well you can turn the other cheek? Then we can see what's what or what? Okay, Marvel?" She makes a show of slowly shaking out her Hello Kitty backhand, for just the right impression on Marvin's face.

"Sorry, I didn't mean any offense ...ladies?" Marvin easily winces away from Leanne's half-assed death threat. 

"Don't be sorry, Marvel, just try to be better. Or I will have to hurt you ...a lot." Leanne snorts snidely, which makes her silver nose ring fly up and down a little. 

Which is the only point, I can see too having a nose ring in the first place? Unless there is some secret sapphic use for it that nose ring thing that I don't know about? So I make a mental note to look up nose rings on my favorite sex site search. That seems like something I should probably know about? Just in case my only friend Macy has a question about that later on, whenever she decides to come out? 

Thus thwarted, Starvin' Marvin has turned his attention on the one person at the table who doesn't know any better. Typically, Starvin' Marvin starts softening him up by telling Quetzy a tale, all about his latest Antarctic church mission over the summer. Where he and his fellow Crusaders heroically helped build a yurt-house for homeless highland shepherds on the Antarctic tundra. 

Quetzy does his best, pretending to be interested in what the Crusaders did over the summer to those poor Antarcticians. Nodding along every now and then, at Starvin' Marvin's excruciatingly long and painful litany of sad whale song bullshit. But I can already see that Quetzy is not really paying attention to Marvin's moral monologue. As he keeps staring down at his hands and flexing his fingers. Probably trying to will his hands not to strangle Starvin' Marvin and end the insanity.

So now that the winter wonderland of whale song bullshit has been sung. Marvin has apparently decided to turn his attention to something besides his own little sad song. So now we are stuck in the sixth ring of Hell, with Starving starting to bro'mancing the shit out of Quetzy. So I just sit back and listen to the litany of stupid shit start up, as Starving starts quizzing the crap out of poor unsuspecting Quetzalcoatl.

"So where did you move from, before you transferred to Sterling?" Marvin pours on the conversion charm, as if he actually cares.

"Out of state, just over the border." Quetzalcoatl shrugs vaguely away. 

Which is sort of a somewhat strange, yet an oddly almost interestingly non-answer from Quetzy? Only in the sense that most new kids will usually name the place, or at least the closest cool thing to their origin story? Or how bad the last place they lived sucked slightly less in comparison to how badly Sterling sucks?

"Oh, which state was that?" Marvin is clearly not taking no for an answer on Quetzy's mysterious origin story.

"Ah..." Quetzy blinks back slowly before finally drawling out another non-answer. "...down over old New Mexico way?" 

"Oh, nice. I've always wanted to do some volunteer missionary work with one of the western states indigenous peoples." Marvin continues to press for personal information to use against him later on in their burgeoning bromance. "So what's the weather like over there?"

"Dry and deserty?" Quetzy tries to shake him off, clearly not interested in sharing any incriminating information. But little does he know, Starvin' Marvin does not give up easily. Or apparently take a hint, that is not backed up with the threat of violence?

"So what do you think of Sterling High so far?" Marvin smiles back brightly, just waiting to pounce.

"Seems friendly'ish enough?" Quetzy scowls out suspiciously with his aqua velvet blue eyes. I think he is finally starting to realize that Starvin' Marvin can't be trusted with any secrets.

"So have you joined any clubs yet? Because if you haven't, the yearbook could always use a few good men." Marvin starts pushing his insane Antarctican agenda on this possible convert to his crazy cult of community service. "Then there Key Club for doing community service for college applications. And of course, the Campus Crusade for Christ is always open to everyone. And all the awesome that is the ...blah blah blah."

Marvin continues to share his long list of community service cults, clubs, churches, and possible projects for Quetzy to join in on for helping humanity. But Quetzy merely stares off at the clock on the wall, probably praying to Chronos the God of Time to end this Grand Inquisition. So I think its safe to say that Quetzalcoatl is not really interested in helping the rest of humanity out. Not that I blame him in the least, seeing humans in general sort of suck. 

The fourth-down try happens right in the middle of Starvin' Marvin's grand goodwill tour of after school activities. The move so subtle, that Marvin doesn't even break cadence on all the awesome helper groups that Quetzacoatl could join for free. Hell, I almost don't even notice the incursion into my insanity until it too late to avoid. 

One of the last assholes on the planet I want to deal with slithers into the back of the room. Then squats down next to my stool, with a stupid smirk on his fine face. Last, but by no means least, on my do-not-do list? Lance Skylar, the final horseman of the back to school Apocolypse.

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