Blog Story, P1

The impossibly hot doctor walked out of the operating room. He ran a hand through his hair as he looked down the hallway. There was an impossibly attractive woman sitting at the end of the hallway, the harsh flourescent lights of the hospital hitting her face at exactly the right angle. He walked down the hall, each step heavier than the last. The woman looked up.

"Brett! Is everything okay?"

"I have good news and bad news."

"Tell me, Bett! I can take it!"

"The good news is that the brain sugery was sucessful. Your husband is going to make it, Elizabeth."

"Oh, Brett, I knew you caould do it! But...what's the bad news?"

"He lost his memory. He doesnt remember you."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

And that was when i turned off the TV.

"I mean, COME on. What kind of cheap, screw-up doctor is that?" I asked my friend Jessica later, as we walked down the sidewalk eating popcorn. "I wouldnt have cried and thrown myself at the doctor. It's his fault. I would have sued their asses is what i would have done."

"Oh, but isnt it romantic? She gets together with the doctor in the next season, you know," Jessica said, tripping over the curb.

"Um, come on. That's SO stupid. You know she's only doing it because he's hot. That doctor made her husband lose his mind. Or at least part of it. I don't know what you see in those stupid soap operas."

"It's a drama," she corrected me.

"It's completley unrealistic. Everything that happens has so much MEANING. Like, if this was a soap opera, every time you tripped a tanned surfer from Europe who's in the States visiting his evil twin who's pretending to be a grandmother would catch you and say "I love you"."

"Well...that did happen in season one."

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The next day was monday, a stupid assembly about someone once again graffiti-ing all over Gregory The Griffon, our school's big, useless stone mascot who resides right by the front stairs leading up to the building.

It's said that he was once actually, like, stone-colored, but that's chalked up to urban legend because not even my grandma was alive when he wasnt multicolored from all of the spraypaint, silly string, and the occasional cherry soda.

Apparently they WILL be looking for the person who did it this time. Although you can hardly tell the new graffiti from the old at this point. Plus, since this is a small town and all, all the teachers went to this school, and all of them have grafittied Gregory. The only reason they're making such a big deal about this is that our principal, Dr. Jones, is all wired from teaching in a school in the city. She thinks that everything is a conspiracy, and maybe in the city or the suburbs it would be. But, hello, this was Woodland. We werent anything really, not a suburb or a city or the country. It's basically boring here, kind of like the neighborhoods in Napolean Dynamite, but not in Indiana.

Personally, i think that she's just bored. Dr. Jones, i mean. She yelled at me this one time for being five minutes late and tried to make it look like i was off smoking pot in the bathrooms or something.

Like anyone could ever get pot in Woodland.

Anyways, I slid into the seat next to Jessica balencing my iPod and a full can of diet Coke (our school is copying all the big suburban ones and getting rid of sugary drinks and candy bars in the soda machine). "What'd I miss?"

"Paul's on crack, Todd's a spy for the CIA, and Marcia's father is actually Tom Cruise," she said, counting off on her fingers for every accusation that our pscyco German teacher had made before i walked in (a minute early, might i add).

"Poor her," I said about the whole Marcia thing. She actually DOES look a little like Tom Cruise.

How unfortunate.

Suddenly, something touched my back. I turned around and came face to face with a big, smelly pair of combat boots.

"Um," I said to the person attached to the boots, a huge, trying-to-be-tough-looking guy. "Can you move your feet?"

He loooked at me with a little, superior smirk. "Make me."

Wrong answer.

I smiled very sweetly, then jabbed my elbow into his leg.

He jumped and took his feet off the chair, but i'm pretty sure that was an accident. Judging by the way his face was turning that very interesting color of maroon.

"You bi-"

"Excuse me, students! May I have your attention please?"

The noise went down about half a decibal.

"People! Quiet!"

I settled back into the seat and watched Jones try to quiet everything down. Nothing like some great entertainment to start the day.