How the grungle jumbled Chris

Chapter 1

        "gosh diddly darn it..." i pull my headphones down to my neck, with furious emo teen angst. "WHADDAYA WANT MOM?!" i yell down out from my bedroom door, aptly decorated with band posters and all the other things that fit the pre-conceived stereotype of edgy teens you have in your head that the author wont write out despite desperately trying to nail in the fact that i am both emo and a teen with no respect for authority in hopes that my eventual "coming of age" moment has more of an impact, even though this this trope has been used both ironically and unironically so much so, that any sort of meta commentary or witty fourth wall breaking quips wattpad user "dr_skrungel" tries to phone in for even as much as a pity laugh will eventually fail, leaving her homeless on the side of the road, begging for so much as even a crumb off of your table, a rag from the hem of your jacket, a piece of plywood over her head from your home. what will you do then, will you take pity, will you scoff at the once human now stripped of all her prior dignity, hoping that the decision to ignore her helpless state and instead fill your head with all sorts of assumptions of how she arrived at this conclusion of her life, hoping that maybe, just maybe if you put her in enough theoretical boxes and ideals of the sort of sins and mistakes she has had to make to end up like this, you can forget the fact that she was once to, a daughter, a sister, a friend, deserving of love. that maybe she once had dreams, aspirations, none of which ended here. but that is just how life rolls, is it better to now soften the blow of the eventual fate that will fall upon her, perhaps by placing a few extra cents in the raggedy old coffee cup she has sitting out, presumably empty besides the remnants of childlike wonder and a longing for a kinder world, or maybe by helping her up and showing her to the old run down shelter, unknowing that she has gotten rejected again and again after too many prolonged stays; or do you choose instead to let nature take its course, or pride yourself in not giving any "handouts" to those in need, reminding yourself that feeding strays only makes them come back, making her out to be as lowly as a dog... are you even truly human?

        i had just received a message on my phone that told me to meet my mom downstairs.

        "well why dont you get your lazy bum down there and figure it out for yourself" my sister, cecile, calls out form behind the door.

        what a self righteous prep, thinking that her unwelcomed and ill timed quips make her funny and intriguing, unaware that her pursuit of comedy in hopes to bring joy to those around her will only bring herself more sadness, starting back up a cycle that will only leave her broken again and again, until her untim-

        "chris, get your ungrateful behind down those stairs this instant, or so help me i will smack that dollar tree eyeliner clean off your face"

        "GEEZ MOM, ALRIGHT" i scream back

        ...man, emos really are the most opressed minority...

        i begrudgingly make my way down the hall and see my mom and step father seated at the gaudy dining room table. the chairs are a pleasant baby puke green, offsetting the sunshine yellow table (both with a very shoddy paint job, but it was done by your middle aged health inspector step dad and two cans of spray paint, so its not like it was destined to be on the home improvement channel by any means... also i should say ex health inspector, my step father changes job the same way a high school girl will change her outfit before she goes out to some arbitrary event... for all the male readers, yes that stereotype is true)

        "chris... now, your step father and i know that you have been going through, a... a little pha-"

        before she can even get the word out, like a sleeper agent being activated, i screech out the infamous:

        "ITS NOT A PHASE MOM, EMO IS A LIFESTYLE!" the house rumbled, the foundation cracked, i could hear fire hydrants breaking and babies cry, mothers shrieked, dogs barked, and an angel lost its wings...

        ...

        ...geez, i didnt even know half those words a minute ago...

        after my mother regained her composure after being shot up into the air by the sheer velocity and pitch that i squealed out the afformentioned phrase at, she calmly corrected herself.

        "through some, uh... lifestyle...changes?... yeah, lets go with that... we know that you have been going through some lifestyle changes since the untimely passing of your father... but tbh it was literally before you were born, you didnt even know the man existed till last week and when you heard about his death, you actually squealed with joy and yelled out 'yes, this is it, this is my chance to finally fulfill my dream of becoming a 2010 tumblr emo boy, i, chris middlename whofromwhoville, am so excited about the untimely death of my biological father, if only for the excuse to dress up in all black and listen t pierce the veil and paramore, along with other bands such as the misfits and black sabbath without being called a poser, the man probably sucked anyway as my mother has terrible taste in men.' and frankly, i got the impression that you might still not have coped with his death yet, and i want to send you out in the middle of the whoville mountain with no supplies and no prior experience out in the wilderness because i raised you in a gated community and you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, in hopes that you may be able to clear your head and connect with nature once again to cope with this."

        "im am your step father, and i approve this message."

        "y'know what, i should protest as this is utterly insane of you, but since the author doesnt want to write any more, as she has already spent a decent portion of her night on this, she will instead choose to skip over the expected fight scene, and will just start off the next chapter with me in the woods. this is for sure a good idea and totally not played out by this point, im sure that the audience of what is presumably mostly her schoolmates will find this to be funny and quirky and totally not annoying." i reply, the words rolling right out of my mouth almost ad if im saying nothing at all. "also the author is so very cool and funny with all of her emo related knowledge, between all the semi-obscure semi-emo bands she mentioned that are not my chemical romance because she believes that making jokes about them is just low hanging fruit, and with the other very basic components of the emo style she had talked about, golly gee wilikers she for sure is so mysterious and quirky."

        "ah yes child, i will not point out the absurdity of your language or oddly robotic inflection, as i too, believe that the author avoiding the fight scene is a good idea. actually, i insist that you should bring your sister along, as maybe a funny side character or possibly a foil to move forward your character development? perchance?" my mother proclaimed, a synthetic quality to her otherwise soft spoken voice.

        "hi, i am your stepfather and i approve this message."