The First And Only Few Paragraphs of A Coming Of Age Novel By A Middle Class White Boy “Novelist”
I met her at a party in Freshman year. Not usually my kind of scene, but my room mate insisted. He said I couldn’t spend all of college in my room reading PROUST’S IN SEARCH OF LOST TIME and I told him I could try - he laughed, thought I was joking. I wasn’t joking. I never joke about THE WORK OF MARCEL PROUST.
The walk over, he kept telling me I’d have fun - that there’d be beer and girls at the party. But I didn’t see the point in drinking, unless it was FINE WHISKY, ALONE. Drinking to have fun - what’s the point. People are awful and I hate them, I hate them more when they’re drunk, but I guess I hate them less when I’m drunk - but since my hate drives me to make all of my witty and cutting observations, it’s better that I stay sober around others - for the good of my EXCELLENT NOVELS.
We got to the party, and my roommate immediately shoved a cup of warm beer into my hand, and strolled off to meet his BLACK ETHNIC DEALER, T’jsd’gik’ (can’t believe those crazy ghetto names ethnics have) and left me alone. I was awkward, so awkward, so I drank, out of SOCIAL FEAR. Soon, I was pretty wasted, standing in a corner just watching the others perform their bizarre mating rituals.
That’s when I saw her.
She came up to me, bleach blonde hair and pale skin, like she never got outside (during the day any way), she was smoking a cigarette. She was obviously really hot, but kind of skinny. Kind of like a corpse, but in a hot way, but a hot way I’m being openly derisive of, for some reason, despite the MASSIVE ERECTION I had upon seeing her bony cleavage.
She had lips made for sucking cock. I don’t know exactly what I mean by that, but I figure it means like really big. Really big lips, but not in an ethnic way, in a white, scarlett johannsen kind of way, but trashier, because I’m going to imply she has some mental health issues and is promiscuous, real subtle like.
"Hey," she said, "I noticed that wadded up copy of FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS in your back pocket. That makes me horny."
"Really," I said dryly, trying to cover my MASSIVE ERECTION.
"Yeah. I’m promiscuous like that. My meds are supposed to make me less promiscuous, but I don’t take them."
"Cool." I said, privately wishing I had a cool mental illness too.