It Reeks of Spoilage

When I saw the shiny black Jaguar parked next to me in the parking lot, I immediately looked down at the key in my hand. It would be so easy to slide the key against it's new black paint. It would be so simple. I wouldn't even miss a step. I wish I could, but I don't. I imagine the spoiled barely sixteen year old sitting in class, bored out of their mind and texting on their iPhone.

Not worth it.

I'm above that right? I mean, I'm not above causing that kid huge amounts of embarrassment and jealousy and hatred towards me, but I'm above such simple and immature acts of rage. No, I think things out. I'm creative. I don't just go around calling all the vapid whores "vapid whore". That would be too easy. If I'm going to get revenge, it's got to be good.

The shiny Jaguar stays in tact. As does the pretty sky blue Mustang convertible and the cute Mercedes. Plus it's not like a have a problem with everyone with a nice car. Most of them are just a little bit spoiled and today, the spoilage reeks worse than ever.

Most of the time I wouldn't be too mad if you called me jealous. Of course I'm jealous. I want a shiny new car, I want a mom and dad who will give me money to see all the movies I want because I have all the time in the world because I don't have a job. I want all the pretty clothes and shoes I could imagine. I would love to get a $70 haircut every month at a place where they know your name and your favorite thing to order at Starbucks. I think everyone wants that at least a little bit.

Today though, you cannot call me jealous. One look at them and I know that I never want to be a thing like them. Their luxuries are nice, but if I have to become one of them to have those luxuries then I'll just stick to what I have.

The high school cafeteria. A friend and I had just calculated approximately how many hours we'd spent in that very cafeteria (Over 200, if you're curious), when our other friend suggested we leave and walk around for a bit. We got up and as I was throwing out my trash I heard it.

"Did you just hear that?!" I asked both of my friends completely appalled. Of course they'd heard it. We all had. That was the point.

"Thank you for leaving." It sounds almost kind if you aren't really paying attention, but when it slips from the slimy mouth of the sinister freshmen who sit next to our table at lunch, it says all the things you never want to hear. It sounds just as evil as it's meant to sound.

"I think we should go back over there, call them (insert bad name here) and beat them up." One of my friends suggests. After all we are seniors and we should put them in their place.

But no, we're above that. And they are above us. That much is obvious. Finding a way to bring them down to our level is a more difficult thing to figure out.

Here's the truth that you never wanted to hear. The jocks and the cheerleaders sometimes are the successful CEO or movie stars or whatever. Being a good, kind-hearted person is not always enough. The Homecoming Queen will forever and always be just so and you will forever and always be the kid who never stood up for them self, if you don't stand up for yourself.

Still, I think a little more thought should be put into the take down of the higher ranking spoilage. You can't just act out on rage or try to think of some clever come back. It doesn't work. Yeah, life isn't like the movies. No, instead you have to think of a way to bring those brats down, without getting suspended and without furthering any chance of embarrassment.

In this case, it should be rather easy, since none of us particularly care what the spoilage has to say. It's not even insulting, it's more just enraging that some snotty little freshmen think they can rule the school. In this case, we just have to show them that we in fact are the queens and they are just the insignificant little drones that will have to survive four more years of torture.

So, if I feel like keying an expensive car that belongs to a spoiled sixteen year old, you can't really blame me.