Thursday, June 09, 2005

Dream:

While going through my graduation audit, the advisor at school found that even though I had enough credits for my oh-so-valuable BA in Fiction Writing, I couldn't graduate next December, because I had not yet finished high school.

"They must've just wanted me out of there quick. I was kind of a troublemaker back then, always getting in fights with the popular kids." I explained. "The high school told me I graduated early. Those fuckers lied!"

"Well, I'm sorry Allison. Columbia won't let you graduate without a high school diploma, so you'll have to go back and complete it."

So I did. Back to Buffalo Grove H.S., hotbed of clique warfare and post-Columbine administrative paranoia. The security guards searched me at the door and I began the senior year I never had.

Only this time around, the popular kids liked me. They let me sit at their lunch table and join in on throwing french fries at the geek table, where I used to sit. They liked me because Bruno, my chocolate lab could talk.

"Hey Bertha! Like, how 'bout an extra slice of cake?" he called out as a chubby girl passed our table. The popular kids burst out in violent laughter and tossed Bruno chunks of their lunch.

Though I still thought the popular kids were boring, with their snore-inspiring fashion critique and rambling stories of summer break in Cancun, I put up with it since it was sort of nice not to be picked on, for once. I bleached my hair and bought a couple of 500-dollar Abercrombie outfits and sat through the football games with my new friends.

But I could tell the "popular" act was tourmenting Bruno. Whenever he and I were alone, he would look at me with those sad, dog eyes and beg, "Please, you can send me up or down." Bruno motioned toward Heaven, then Hell with his paw, "Just kill me, already."

posted at 3:56 PM |