See what I did there?
No, of course you didn’t.
You’re Acedia. Acedia.
Lucky you can tie your own shoes. Though half of you still use the bunny ears method (yes, we see you, and no, it’s not cute).
Anyway, we digress.
We’re back from that early grave you believed us to be in, and we’re SHRIEKING because we have news!
Quick, grab your phones and text “I Want to Know” to the following number, and an automatic ten-dollar charge will be billed to your phone.
1-800-I’M-JOKING!
And . . . digression.
So what’s this news? What’s this about Mary Shelley and Victor?
It’s sure as sugar not your student council prez victor, because neither candidate deserves your vote. They’re complete and utter frauds. Betcha already knew that, didn’t you? You just got caught up in smooching on germ-infested posters and hollering insults and making noise out of the sheer and utter boredom and drudgery and monotony of high school.
(Could we use more adjectives?)
Our StuCo election is indeed a microcosm with our candidates being just as full of crap emojis as the main players.
Now just what are you getting at, Dear Violet, Dear Violet?
See for yourselves and click here.
For those with fingers still lazy from the hazy days of summer or internet connections from the Jurassic era, we’ll spell it out for you:
SCENE: INT. HOUSE ON THE CLIFFS. SUMMER
We pan down from the oh-so-original nautical chandelier to the it-cost-eight-thousand-dollars-to-get-this-lived-in-look sectional where a pair of drooling dudes whose lives will be defined by that pigskin they tossed in high school sit.
We are in the living room belonging to a Miss Maxine Chen at the end of the summer.
You heard us. Yes, it’s THAT party.
Let’s zoom in closer, shall we? And up the volume.
Because that right there is someone——not in the frame, aside from his occasional thumb over the camera lens, but audible as a seal off Lighthouse Beach——shoving pizza down his gullet and saying: “That’s how I’d do it. Take Acedia’s hottest chickadees, gimme a little of this, and ooh, ooh, ooh, a little of that right there, and, oh yeah, that, and that, and double to get a set of THAT, and boom, my dream girl. A perfect ten. Up high, bro!”
Two hands high-fiving, barely caught at the edge of the screen.
END SCENE
Shriek with me, folks!
Origin of the Frankengirls wallpaper in our school!
It’s just a voice, you say? It is.
But it belongs to Tad Marcus.
Who we talked to.
After Tamara, his girlfriend (excuse us, ex-girlfriend), borrowed his phone without his knowledge (PSA here, folks, always use a passcode!), discovered this video, and sent it straight to us.
“We were having fun,” Tad Is Rad said. “It was a stupid joke. Those damn apple pie balls. They should really have a warning label.”
(They do.)
“But I swear on old Slothy that I had nothing to do with those posters.”
Putting aside that swearing on a stuffed animal carries as much weight as Angeline Quinn’s Harry Potter butt cheek, when asked who might have been responsible, Rad Tad denied it was anyone on the football team.
“We care about girls too much to do that [bleeped] up [bleep]. We’ve got cheerleaders, man. You seen a pissed-off cheerleader? Not pretty. Well, I mean, dude, usually still are, but like, yeah, not something you want your balls anywhere close to.”
So who else could it be, you ask? We did too.
“Torres was there,” Tad the Rad (or is it “Rat”?) said.
Leo Torres? Student council presidential candidate?
“Yeah, Torres,” Tad the Rat said. “He’s smart and got that access to his mom’s designer or printer or whatever, right? Just saying, might be worth looking into.”
Huh. Might be. So we did.
Now, lazy fingers and Jurassic internet, this time GO, GO, GO to that link.
Watch.
Again.
Do you see it?
No?
Oh, come on. You can lead a horse to water . . .
All right, here’s a clue:
The hand?
High-fiving?
Jutting out of a lime-green sweatshirt.
Now, who do we know loves himself some lime-green sweatshirt?
Ah, now you got it.
(Maybe you’ll move past those bunny ears yet, Acedia!)
So you may be wondering why, just why Leo Torres would be compelled to turn this drunken rambling into reality.
One word: the election. (Okay, so that’s two, but one main word, and . . . digression.) Torres needs you to vote so he can win. Because those were his mommy’s orders. Yup, that’s right, Acedia, your very fearful potential leader was acting on orders from his congressional hopeful mom to follow in her size seven footsteps and enter political life. That’s why he’s running. Not for you, not for off-campus lunches or straws or whatever else he’s been spouting. He doesn’t actually want to win. But he promised he would. And though he lies, he’s loyal, or so sources say.
He likely didn’t count on his ex, Angeline Quinn, being showered with hearts and fist pumps for her “impromptu” speeches.
Or did he?
Before we paint #HotheadQuinn as an innocent bystander, let’s cue up a couple of Ask an Angel videos.
Hmm . . . here we have Natalie Goldberg prominently displaying her mom’s macerated seaweed facial. Natalie’s, like, a five-degrees-of-separation influencer in her own right at Acedia, bursting with connections to students able to cast their votes.
M’kay . . .
What about this? Have you seen who’s liking Ask an Angel lately? Both YouTube and Insta?
None other than mega influencer Evelyn’s Epic Everyday. Rumor has it, Miss E is inviting baby influencers to something of a help-me-help-you scenario. And who’s strapping on training wheels?
None other than our Quinnie.
But only if she follows her own mommy’s orders and does something other than slap poo on her surely silicon-implanted cheekbones.