"What's the big deal?" You ask from the side or your mouth, not letting go of the Nintendo cruiser you clutch in your hands.
Well, the big deal is that my parents panicked and catapulted us from the our lovely home in San Francisco to the middle of nowhere in Owasso, Oklahoma. Major downer!
You sip from your soda can. "I still don't get it," you mutter, slurping the drink around in your mouth, "so you relocated to the mid-lands, who gives a shit?"
I have just one question. You ever been to Owasso, Oklahoma?
Then shut the hell up and take my word for it. After living most of my life in 'Frisco, Owasso felt like cowboy land to me. Shoot! They even have cowboys and totally have like, native Indian names for their towns. Osawatomie, Oolagah, Owasso, Okmulgee...
Like, who the hell named these towns? The guys from 'Dukes of Hazard?' Crazy!!!
Anyways, we moved to Owasso (pronounced 'Owass-ah' by many natives), and I hated my parents for it. They put me in some middle school filled with a bunch of stupid kids that know nothing about being cool. Many of them wouldn't even know what a cigarette looked like if it came poking them in the eye.
I had no friends. My best friend Sasha was back in 'Frisco dating cute guys and lounging in pools and beaches, sipping slushies and eating ice-cream. Me? I was caged in Owasso, wearing drab clothes to school and eating cafeteria-cooked-crap for lunch. Yuck!!!
Even the extracurricular activities in the school was like, totally booorrriiing! There was no group for aspiring actresses like me. No serious music group with incredible talent like mine. And definitely no musicals or talent shows whatsoever. Instead, they had baseball. Who the heck wants to play baseball?
You give me a reproachful stare. "Baseball is an American fave," you say.
Yeah, yeah, Baseball and the Angels and the Braves and yatty-yatty-yada!!! Give me a break!
So, like, the only kid I identified with at that middle school in Owasso was this guy named Samuel Machiovich. Cool kids in the school nick-named him 'Slinky Sam.'
I was cool, so I called him Slinky Sam too. He was the major and the most widely connected supplier of cigarettes and drugs in the school. I was one of his frequent customers...Lol!!!
"What!!!!" you scream. "Cigarettes? Whatcha go picking up that disgusting habit for?"
First off, smoking is not a disgusting habit, at least, not when you stick to the occasional cigarette. It's when you become addicted and or graduate to reefers that it becomes disgusting--and at whatever age you start doing it.
In my case, I started smoking cigs when I was like, eight? Nine? I forget. But, while in 'Frisco, I only smoked like one or two sticks in three months.
Then we moved to Owasso and I met Slinky Sam and the likes of him. Things quickly took a turn for the worse. I started smoking more frequently, you know, just for relaxation and to let-off steam. I was netting in at about two sticks in three days. Then the urge to smoke became more insistent. Before I knew it, I was smoking a whooping pack of cigs in two weeks! Gawd!!!
Then guess what?
"What?" you ask, all eyes and ears now. (Finally, I've been able to gain your full attention. Lol!)
Okay, so, Slinky Sam totally introduced me to something stronger than just tobacco.
"I knew it!" you yell. "The Slimy bastard!"
Well, it's not totally his fault. I could have said no if I wanted to. Problem was--I seriously needed something to get my mind off my parents selfish decisions and judgment. Jeez! What do they know about my life?
So, at first, I tried a few kinds of weed, nothing too serious, just harmless grass and stuff. Then one day, Slinky got me the real deal. Marijuana!!!
"Marijuana??!!!" You yell...
Yup, it cost me ten bucks a roll too. Slinky said it was the best weed in town.
"Whatcha do? You smoke it?" You are now at the edge of your seat, perched and staring at me in awe and unbelief.
To be fair to you, the answer is yes! I did smoke the reefer... We cut classes and went behind the school dumpster during school hours. I took one puff and closed my eyes, hoping to savor the promised freedom the warm smoke would bring.
The next thing I knew, a heavy hand clamped down on my shoulder.
I was busted!!!
By the time I snapped my eyes open, Slinky Sam was nowhere to be found.
You laugh so hard you fall to the floor and roll around. "I told you so!"
Yeah, and honestly, I don't blame ya! That weed-smoking escapade was the last straw for my parents. I got expelled from middle school and three weeks later, I found myself on a plane nosing its way to Nigeria, West-AFRICA!!!
You betcha! I'll be back with more, so hang around!
To read excerpts and reserve copies of FEDDIE GIRL, the novel, visit Bernard Books Publishing.