A thought has crept into my brain place, and I can't seem to shake it off.

As hanging out with beefcake and softboiled over here has proven to be a plot magnet, I want to try something new. Time, as you know, is merely a construct us humans have created to give an order to the world. And so are numbers. Measures of things, of permanence, of reality, are not funded in any particular universal truth.

What is reading, if no staring at a piece of paper or screen and hallucinating? Imagine a chicken. A red chicken. The chicken is flying. His name is Roberto. Now, Roberto is gone, for I have stopped mentioning him. See? Just perspective. Pure ideology.

What if, then, I stop narrating my every thought to you, hypothetical reader? What if I refuse to play society's wicked bad boy game, and elevate above it all? What if I don't feed you a story? Will the plot still happen with an unwilling narrator? 

Wasn't it Slavoj Žižek that said that the only effect is the real effects produced, generated, by something which does not yet fully exist, which is not yet fully actual?

If I ignore you, will you go away? Will I stop being a bad boy? Will the story end? Let's find out. For today, I'll just stay here, listen to music, as I work on this worksheet put history teacher gave me and won't narrate a thing.

Are you still here? Creep.

Well, as long as you're here, why not listen to some music with me? The world is hard enough as it is. You need to relax. Take a chill-minute.

Nice, wasn't it? Now, go away.

I can still feel you creep on my mind. Go away.

Okay, you know what? Why don't YOU give me a story? How was your day? Narrate me what you're doing. That's right, you're the MC now. Speak for my amusement.

You weirdo.

Okay, that was a bit mean. I just...you know, am under a lot of stress. We are on a Thursday, for sweet baby Jesus' sake. A lot has happened in the last four days. Just...let me rest for a day, yeah?

Thank you. That's all I needed. To breathe a little. Maybe that's what we need, some time away.  Not all the time, of course. Just, maybe once a week? You can take this time to scream at the void. Just, let it all out. The anger, the frustration, the sadness. I won't tell anybody. Just between you and me. I'll give you some space to do that.

See? We are good. This feels good! You and me against the world. Yeah, this is nice. Nice. Maybe I overreacted. I need you, as much as you need me. But thank you for respecting my boundaries. I feel like we can continue our-

"Class, pencils down," says the teacher. "The principal has an announcement to make."

As the classroom is inundated in whispers and chatter, Mrs. Strickland walks in with a girl in tow, which, I have to add, radiates pure totally-average energy.

"Hello, class," says the principal, "I just came here with a new student that will begin her educational journey in this school. Please, give a warm welcome to Leila-Sue Higgins, your new classmate!"

See? This is what we were talking about. I let you in for one second, and the plot has already chased me down like a momma hunting a hyperactive kid in a clothing shop, store, thing. Which, I might add, is always found on the circular rack thing. You know the one.

The girl, with long, wavy red hair, what can only be described as emerald orbs, as I can see no white in those damn things, and freckled skin, as pale as snow, perks up with a huge smile, showing us a row of pearly-white teeth. As if she didn't look like an eldritch abomination already, I can see what it is part of an ominous, almost-prophetic tattoo hidden beneath the green-plaid shirt she's wearing.

I feel like trouble's a-brewing.

"As it is the tradition in Hill Valley Mountain Woods High," says the principal, "it falls to the last 'new kid' to show the new-new kid around. And that means that the one in charge of showing Ms. Higgins around is...Mr. Gomez? Ayden Gomez?"

Well, fuck me sideways.

"Hey!" I say, standing up. "What do you mean, tradition? I never got someone to show me around! I got lost for twenty minutes trying to find the bathroom on my first day."

"Because you were the first new kid of the year," says the principal. "And that is exactly why you are the perfect person to show her around. You can teach her what you have learned, and be an example of how to adjust to the Hill Valley Mountain Woods High life, yes?"

Could this go any-wait, fuck, I didn't say that, did I? It means that now, it's gonna get worse. Stupid, stupid!

The girl goes even paler than she was, covering her face while scanning me up and down with her disgusting jade marbles. "You...you're the one I saw in my dreams last night!"

You know what? This is what I get for trusting you. Fuck you, reader! I hope your grilled cheese sandwiches never melt, and that your cereal is forever soggy.