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Bath Thoughts, or Bad Thoughts

I hope people remember me for who I become, not who I was.

My mind thinks up crazy things when I'm in the bath at 7:00 in the morning.

Like, why do I like The Ballroom Philosopher so much? I mean, it's just some guy you'd usually see high off of his rocker, spewing out his thoughts between cups of coffee and aspirin. 

What do I want to do with my life, aside from being paid to listen to music? Maybe I could become a superstar?

I could hear my name echoing across TL Arena. Introducing, the pride of New Amsterdam!

"Cait, Ka-tri-na..." I whisper under my breath. 

I'm almost there anyway. All I need to do is get a couple hundred million more followers on Snapout! and I'd be there. At that point, I could be an author, celebrity, musician or philosopher. With that many people listening to me, I could be anything they need me to be.

Philosophers were poets, musicians were authors and vice versa. Celebrities changed the world, and their fans are their own foundations. 

If someone took away everything from those celebrities, would they still visit places like Saharan Africa and Southern India to help the poor? Would they even work at the nearest soup-kitchen, even if that didn't help their own cause?

I wandered through those thoughts, until I realize that the water got cold really fast.

Someone was messing with the thermostat... I told 

"Katy, let's go loser!"

I shrieked, grabbing for a towel amidst my sister's laughter.

"SARA! What the hell?!"

"You take baths for too long. I'm pretty sure if you were there any longer, your guts would fall out through your-"

"I get it," I reply back, the towel around my chest already damp from the water.

"Get downstairs. We're leaving in 45."

My hair whips around my face as I turn frantically to Sara.

"I need an hour."

She points to her watch, Berengolli with golden arms, diamond clockwork but a plastic wristband.

"We're already 30 minutes late as it is. It's not like the school waits for us to show up." As she turns around to leave, she waits at the door, leaning against it as I go back to the bathroom to make my hair.

"As a matter of fact, they do, don't they?"

She leaves before I could ask her what top fits the jeans I want to wear.



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You're not Supposed to Be Happy. That's My Job

I wish my sister would stop grinning like that. I swear, if she flashes her teeth, she looks like the Joker. Really. She has the features around her mouth, just in much softer tones than him. Although I can't help but wonder why he acts like that. Literally tries to set fire to Gotham every time he breaks out of that stupid asylum.

Whatever. She's cool anyway. She latches on to me like a leech, but instead of sucking away the good, she's getting rid of the bad. I look at her and see myself when I was her age. So young and reckless- I love that.

Hang on a second. There's this girl trying to get a seat at our table, licking her chops like she had just given head to some jock on the football team. Like that was a VIP pass now.

"Move away from our table, you dirty skank. Just because you blew Thomas doesn't give you a right to sit with us. Get your sexed up face out of mine you hook."

That's better. She was stinking up the place anyway.

As I take a bite out of some lame excuse of a lunch I launch right back into the juicy gossip swidling around me at our little table at the far left corner of the huge lunchroom. 
What are the other girls talking about again?

"...So Tommy, like the loser he is, is trying to get back with Zoey but Alex already got to her. He found out the hard way."

Right. Tommy. Melissa's ex-boyfriend. Like really ex-boyfriend. Like he-wanted-nudes-before-the-second-date-desperate-material ex-boyfriend.

"When's the fight?"

"Tonight, in the parking lot when the principal leaves."

Fights were always an exciting time for her. We got to see a few dumb jocks duke it out on top of asphalt. Shirts would be torn, sweat will glisten on their bulky bodies, blood will be drawn...

"Speaking of parking lots, oh my G-d," Spener spoke out loud, his chin quivering without an ounce of self-control.

"Look at Katie's thermals. They look like she rubbed them on the asphalt before walking in."

"Ha! More like tried fitting into them first!"

After Kim's additional comment, we laughed long and proud. Who was going to stop us? Between all of us, our parent's ran the school, owned companies, won numerous military awards and accolades and single-handedly monopolized the divorce lawyer market. Who would dare stop us?

I sigh loudly, a trademark of mine, somehow even drowning out the bell for class.

Man, what a time to be alive.

"Sara, you deaf? C'mon girl," Kim called to me, waking me from another perfectly good trance. "Bell rang. Let's go."

As we leave the massive room together, I toss the remainder of whatever lunch that was into the garbage, disregarding the recycle signs. All I can think about is the fight that's going to happen. No wait, that's only the first good part; the best will be happening after that...

As the gossip and selfies flutter around me like beautiful butterflies, I get a glimpse of my own Katy before heading into my own classroom(Katrina hates that I call her Katy, but it's a cuter name, right?). She's in the back of her classroom, wearing that cute shirt and jeans combo and laughing with a bunch of my own friends' siblings. That girl is going to take over the school, I'm sure. And she'll enjoy every moment of it.

Every evil,



wonderful part of it.




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This is More Fun Than Banging My Head Against a Wall

My teachers all think I have ADHD. Some of them think I have something called Anti-social personality disorder. My nanny makes me take adderall every morning with orange juice. While Katy submerges herself with her favorite articles on the web as we drive to school in our limo, I just look out the window at the others on the streets. Sometimes I wonder what their stories are, what their goals are and what their lives are like. Other times I wonder how their lives suck, how they fell to where they did; even how easy it would be to seduce them into going to that bad place- to where they'd be willing to throw it all away for fantasy.

I work on my evil sneer sometimes when I look in the mirror. Look, I'm not a villain. I'm nothing like the ones I hear about on the news. I hear of people like the Joker, Harley Quinn, green goblin and others on the news all of the time. I could never be like them. Ever. Trust me.

I'm just bored. Yep. I'm just bored. I feel like the champion of a video game, like I mastered every single level already and I've reached my prime. Now I just keep thinking about how to make the most of it.

So I cheer on both sides of the fight, even if it felt like our own private fight club, with the grunts and punishing blows exchanged under the amber lights of the parking lot.

Katy and Elibeth know that I go to hang out by my friends' houses afterwards. My parents, even while serving in other countries, know that I come home late, with my work done and my outfit untouched.

But they know nothing about this. We cheer and drink as the boys fight. We splash them with water between breaks. Girls even try to intimidate the other by necking boys in front of them. It's a mess. A glorified mess. Yet the only mess I'm truly interested in is the one between my legs.

My duffel bag, you sicko. Once the fight is done (no one really cares who won) and we all retire to one of their houses to listen to Slackhorse Nifty's EDM experiments sprinkled with even more gossip and laughter, I bade my time. I bade my sweet time while following the currents of what everyone wants to do. Sometimes the city is ours; other times it's just mine.

The party ends late every night, but I have a ride bring me home, all the while with my engraved Engrini Sofle duffle bag close by. Yet I don't come home yet. They aren't expecting me home. I learned to break the rules only when they find no proof that I did. So I ride up past the penthouse, up to the roof, past the water towers and solar panels and pull it out like a prized possession.

It looks like equipment from a forgotten sport. The suit is a mash-up of spandex, kevlar and speedo, a weird combination I got from a shady friend who had connections. I fold my clothes neatly and slip into the familiar cloth, without a care that I just publicly changed clothes atop the highest tower in the city. I strap on the marastrike 480 propulsion kit to my back, its 45 pounds weighing me down, with only the promise of it holding me up in a few seconds. As I slip on my trikkity three-sixty biker helmet, I begin to feel my life slip out from underneath me- in a good way. After finally finding something to do, my heart beats out of my chest. This isn't the first time I've done this though. This has become a ritual for me, to do something extraordinary.

As I fly, I think of myself as a psycho with wings. And it feels good. So I raise hell.


Because I'm bored. And I need something to do.


ANNOUNCER: This is WBZRK, news at 6am! Bringing you all the news that matters to you, without all of the anxiety and stress that comes with normal broadcasts.

MONICA HOROWICZ: Thank you for tuning in. I'm the substitute reporter for this morning. Mary Mackentyler is off tonight for a well deserved break. Her Instagram album sure shows a lot of fun in the sun!

Our first story comes out of Downtown -the place on the south of town for anyone who's triggered by slang speech that's never explained-, where a poor man was taken into safer custody as he tried to forcefully borrow some produce from Stanley's Grocer. The produce was slightly damaged,but it's okay since it was recycled for fertilizer for Stanley's own palm tree.

(Camera pans to the palm tree, slightly wilted to one side but more or less undamaged.)

Such a beautiful palm tree huh? Stanley himself said that he was slightly shaken up but will receive counseling for his newly diagnosed PTSD.

(Camera pans back to MONICA)

We'll be back after these messages.....




(Commercial ends. Camera turns back on to MONICA)

MONICA: Welcome back. Now let's check in with our upcoming weather report, sponsored by Paradise recovery centers. Here to tell us is Richard Prytweller.

RICHARD: Thank you Monica. Judging by these winds and cloud formations, it looks like there will be some rain- but don't worry people. For those scared of rain, we are giving you plenty of time to get your rain gear, as it's coming in two days. For those scared of the clouds before it rains, we urge you to call a therapist if your anxiety starts acting up. The winds will be slow -around 1 1/2 miles per hour, so it will feel more like a soft breeze than anything else more violent. That's the forecast over the next two days but when we come back, we'll tell you when the SUN returns!

MONICA: GREAT! The sun's coming back!! Can't wait!

RICHARD: Me neither Monica! Back to you!

MONICA: Thank you Richard. We'll get back to his full weather forecast soon, but first a special report.


MONICA: Not today, Announcer. For those that get triggered by this, we urge you to call a therapist.

A masked character was spotted on police surveillance as it seemed to demolish some traffic lights and street lights to cause a major accident on the throughway. No one was seriously injured but it did cause traffic to halt to a standstill throughout the past few hours.

As well, a whole street downtown has been shaken up since last night after a masked infiltrator caused hundreds of dollars in damage to cars, trees, a mailbox and manhole covers. No one has identified the person but they appeared to fly away afterwards on what looks to be a jet back. We'll have more information as it develops, but for now, let's check back in with Richard on when the SUN comes back... 

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Some People Don't Get to Land on Solid Ground

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When it Gets to the Other Side, We Don't Care Where We Land

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Survival of the Richest

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When Boredom Strikes, You Better Get Outside Or It Will Get You

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Be Loved, Not Beloved

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Just Because I'm Loaded, Doesn't Mean I'm Happy

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Don't Justify Me, Just Defy Me

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Innocence, In No Sense

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