AcmeShorts

Yeah, so anyway, after the whole murder slash cannibalism thing my future-self didn't come around for a while until I was 14. I was at my locker after school. The halls had long emptied out and I was taking advantage of the privacy to smooch the photograph of Lady Di I had taped to the inside of the door. My tongue was tracing the hem of her skirt when I raised my eyes. There he was. He winced and reared back, holding his hands in front of his face in a way that seemed to indicate both mock horror and genuine revulsion.

"Dude, ever hear of Clearasil?"
"Yeah, It doesn't work," I said with defiance so philo dough thin that tears started to seep through. "My dermatologist has me on 50 migs of tetracylcine and topical Retin-A." I clicked my retainer.
"Ya, well anyway, hold the pepperoni, please! Ha, ha, ha!" He leaned into me as he laughed and touched me affectionately on the shoulder as if to make me his co-conspirator in a joke at my own expense. I stood there, unblinking, trying my best to look past him. He lit up a cigarette and offered me one.
"I don't smoke! Coach would kill me!"
"What's the diff, soccer season's over anyway?"
"No it isn't. Just because the school season is over doesn't mean we aren't doing dry land training and indoor. And don't forget about town-team," I replied snottily.

Tremors began in his face and moved to the rest of his body and soon he was in hysterics.
"I gotta tell ya kid. This soccer stuff and all this exercise ain't gonna mean a thing when you hit, say, 34. Trust me, you may as well start smoking now. You're not cut out for the long haul." My chin started to quiver. "Yes I am!" I blubbered, barely containing a wail of woe but not really knowing what he was talking about. "Aww, come on. No tears here please. Come on! Hey, listen, you got any weed on you? Let's go behind the auditorium and smoke a jay." "We can't smoke in the school" I whined. "Jesus Christ! Of course we can. I used to do it all the time. Fuck! What kind of a pussy are you?"

I began convulsing with a deep, deep melancholy. "Why do you have to be so mean to me?" I stammered, looking at him with eyes that pled for a world without curfews, without parents and siblings, without acne, without vicious taunts and harangues and violent assaults on the way home from school, without daily public humiliations and indignities, without retainer replacement fees, without cutting remarks from embittered teachers, without pretty people and smart people and the self-confident, passing through the halls with their feathered hair and their cocksure swaggers and wiggles. Oh, the injustice!