Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Chronicles of Silver Springs: Extension Cord Suicide ❯ Chillin ( Chapter 1 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Snow_Bunnie 
JC mopes around Keith's house and meets a certain someone...
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Drama / Angst | Type: Vignette | Uploaded On: 10.06.2011 | Updated On: 10.06.2011 | Pages: 1 | Words: 926 | Visits: 536 | Status: Work In Progress
JC mopes around Keith's house and meets a certain someone...
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Drama / Angst | Type: Vignette | Uploaded On: 10.06.2011 | Updated On: 10.06.2011 | Pages: 1 | Words: 926 | Visits: 536 | Status: Work In Progress
Extension Cord Suicide
It was all over. The pitiful shred of existence he had clung to was over. She had been his everything; his future, his family, his one and only love. Now, she was gone. Chocking back a despondent huff, JC dutifully wrapped another loop of cord around his neck. He tugged roughly on the make-shift rope. “Here goes everything.”
JC flopped down on the worn out couch at his friend’s duplex. “Man, I am beat!”
“Beat? You haven’t done shit all day,” his friend Keith challenged. Though several years his junior, Keith was a reliable and good friend to JC.
“And your point is? I can be exhausted if that’s what I feel. Regardless of how I came upon this state, you should not try to dispute my feelings.”
Ignoring the condescending sarcasm in JC’s rant, Keith suggested, “Well then, why don’t you stick around? We’re having a little party thing later. Smoke a few blunts, you’ll feel alright again in no time.”
Smiling, JC nodded. There was not a problem in the world, it seemed, that Keith could not remedy with some marijuana. “That sounds great bro, count me in.”
JC knew the party was just an excuse for a few friends to get together and get wasted, but that was exactly what he wanted right now. The exhaustion he felt was not physical at all. The little black tentacle monster of depression had once again snared JC in his tendrils.
It happened often enough. One day he would just wake up and still feel so tired that he could not drag his carcass out of bed. Then he would get fired from work for attendance. He wouldn’t have any money, therefor any drugs, so a lot of his “friends” would ignore him. After a while of this there wouldn’t be a reason to drag his carcass out of bed.
Eventually he would climb back to “normal” and be able to function. How long that lasted was varied. Occasionally an event would awaken the little tentacle monster, but that wasn’t always, or even often the case. It wasn’t fair. JC knew he was a little “off” but figured he could control it and that he didn’t need anyone’s help dealing with it. Though Keith and his family were a major support for him, he never would burden them with bitchy whining about his feelings. Discrediting his true state with transparent lies of physical ailments was all he could do.
Sitting on the couch, the two young men played mindless video games while waiting for the other party goers to arrive. JC liked video games. It was a nice release to blow zombie Nazis to pieces. He wasn’t violent, at least not in his actions, but in the virtual world of first person shooters he could indulge the vice vehemently.
The doorbell rang just as JC and Keith finished the level they were on. Keith lazily rose from the sofa and ambled towards the door. “Who goes there?” He called through the door.
“Very funny Keith, let us in,” a female voice replied.
“I don’t know… What if you’re zombies?”
“No one has brains in this house, so you shouldn’t be worried,” Came the snotty retort.
“Ouch, harsh Kimo,” Keith feigned hurt as he opened the door, allowing Kimo and her friend inside.
JC’s breath felt thick and clogged his throat as he tried to exhale. She was so perfect in his eyes. He had never met Kimo, only heard of her in Keith’s stories. The anecdotal references, that JC never really cared about, all seemed to resurface suddenly. Quickly compiling all the information he had gathered he clumsily attempted a greeting.
“So Kimo, hey, how’s your CD collection? Is your dad back?” JC remembered Keith had said something once about getting music CDs, and that her dad Toni was a truck driver.
“Um, it’s good. My dad is not in town right now, he’s in the Northeast this week. Who are you?” Kimo asked, obviously taken aback.
“This is JC,” Keith offered an introduction, when his friend seemed to be too overcome to respond. “He’s really cool, and staying for the par-tay!”
“Oh my gosh, you and your parties.” Kimo’s friend Kelsey laughed.
“It’s the little things that make life fun and worthwhile.” Keith responded, feigning wisdom.
“I thought the little things always bring you down,” quipped JC, bringing Kimo’s attention back to him.
“Did you really just reference Good Charlotte?” She asked incredulously.
After a second failure JC quieted down. Obviously he wasn’t getting anywhere. It wasn’t like he had any experience talking to girls- at least, not in an actual pursuing-the-beginning-to-a-relationship kind of way. The only girls he ever talked to had been friends, and just friends. But he really wanted to get to know Kimo. She seemed so cool, confident, and fun. If only he could figure out how to string together a coherent and useful sentence.
How could a girl he just met do this to him?
Converting /tmp/php4upfcS to /dev/stdout
It was all over. The pitiful shred of existence he had clung to was over. She had been his everything; his future, his family, his one and only love. Now, she was gone. Chocking back a despondent huff, JC dutifully wrapped another loop of cord around his neck. He tugged roughly on the make-shift rope. “Here goes everything.”
JC flopped down on the worn out couch at his friend’s duplex. “Man, I am beat!”
“Beat? You haven’t done shit all day,” his friend Keith challenged. Though several years his junior, Keith was a reliable and good friend to JC.
“And your point is? I can be exhausted if that’s what I feel. Regardless of how I came upon this state, you should not try to dispute my feelings.”
Ignoring the condescending sarcasm in JC’s rant, Keith suggested, “Well then, why don’t you stick around? We’re having a little party thing later. Smoke a few blunts, you’ll feel alright again in no time.”
Smiling, JC nodded. There was not a problem in the world, it seemed, that Keith could not remedy with some marijuana. “That sounds great bro, count me in.”
JC knew the party was just an excuse for a few friends to get together and get wasted, but that was exactly what he wanted right now. The exhaustion he felt was not physical at all. The little black tentacle monster of depression had once again snared JC in his tendrils.
It happened often enough. One day he would just wake up and still feel so tired that he could not drag his carcass out of bed. Then he would get fired from work for attendance. He wouldn’t have any money, therefor any drugs, so a lot of his “friends” would ignore him. After a while of this there wouldn’t be a reason to drag his carcass out of bed.
Eventually he would climb back to “normal” and be able to function. How long that lasted was varied. Occasionally an event would awaken the little tentacle monster, but that wasn’t always, or even often the case. It wasn’t fair. JC knew he was a little “off” but figured he could control it and that he didn’t need anyone’s help dealing with it. Though Keith and his family were a major support for him, he never would burden them with bitchy whining about his feelings. Discrediting his true state with transparent lies of physical ailments was all he could do.
Sitting on the couch, the two young men played mindless video games while waiting for the other party goers to arrive. JC liked video games. It was a nice release to blow zombie Nazis to pieces. He wasn’t violent, at least not in his actions, but in the virtual world of first person shooters he could indulge the vice vehemently.
The doorbell rang just as JC and Keith finished the level they were on. Keith lazily rose from the sofa and ambled towards the door. “Who goes there?” He called through the door.
“Very funny Keith, let us in,” a female voice replied.
“I don’t know… What if you’re zombies?”
“No one has brains in this house, so you shouldn’t be worried,” Came the snotty retort.
“Ouch, harsh Kimo,” Keith feigned hurt as he opened the door, allowing Kimo and her friend inside.
JC’s breath felt thick and clogged his throat as he tried to exhale. She was so perfect in his eyes. He had never met Kimo, only heard of her in Keith’s stories. The anecdotal references, that JC never really cared about, all seemed to resurface suddenly. Quickly compiling all the information he had gathered he clumsily attempted a greeting.
“So Kimo, hey, how’s your CD collection? Is your dad back?” JC remembered Keith had said something once about getting music CDs, and that her dad Toni was a truck driver.
“Um, it’s good. My dad is not in town right now, he’s in the Northeast this week. Who are you?” Kimo asked, obviously taken aback.
“This is JC,” Keith offered an introduction, when his friend seemed to be too overcome to respond. “He’s really cool, and staying for the par-tay!”
“Oh my gosh, you and your parties.” Kimo’s friend Kelsey laughed.
“It’s the little things that make life fun and worthwhile.” Keith responded, feigning wisdom.
“I thought the little things always bring you down,” quipped JC, bringing Kimo’s attention back to him.
“Did you really just reference Good Charlotte?” She asked incredulously.
After a second failure JC quieted down. Obviously he wasn’t getting anywhere. It wasn’t like he had any experience talking to girls- at least, not in an actual pursuing-the-beginning-to-a-relationship kind of way. The only girls he ever talked to had been friends, and just friends. But he really wanted to get to know Kimo. She seemed so cool, confident, and fun. If only he could figure out how to string together a coherent and useful sentence.
How could a girl he just met do this to him?
Converting /tmp/php4upfcS to /dev/stdout