Thing Weezer

This is a short story based off 4 of Weezer's songs: If You're Wondering If I Want You To Pork and Beans Say it Aint So and Beverly Hills

Thing Weezer


    Terry and paul gave birth to a child.
    Me.
    Paul started drinking.
    Way to much.
    So terry left me and paul at our house in michigan in complete disgust; without even naming me.
    Paul named me ‘thing’ in a rather careless manner, then went and got drunk some more.
    Only recently did I figure out what the name meant.
    I’m thirty.

    
    I splattered paint onto the canvas and then rubbed it in with my foot. They say I’m creative. They say that I’m special. Which is... good, right?
     As long as it will get me to Beverly Hills, than yes.
     I finished the pice of art off by dumping the rest of the paint on the canvas, then hopped down from the ladder. I stood back and admired my work. Very worthy of Beverly Hills. And better yet, Suzie, my girlfriend, would love it.  
    I passed Paul as I walked into my room. He was sprawled out on the couch, drool dribbling down his chin as he snored. Debbie, his fiftieth girlfriend since my dad and mom divorced, was sprawled on the floor, also snoring, with a ciggerette hanging out of her mouth. Next to her were ten empty beer bottles and one still bottle still half full was clutched in Paul’s hand. The room was covered in a thick layer of smoke from their multiple cigarettes, and the room smelled a sickly sweet scent of beer. The room seemed to have a rather slow, lethargic look about it. I walked past them with not the slightest feeling of disgust, and pushed through my door.
    Once in my room, I grabbed my Slayers t-shirt, shorts, tennis shoes, and a sweatband and headed into the bathroom.
    I felt something soft brush up against my leg and looked down.
    “Hey Jimmers,” I said to my raccoon. He made a low purring noise and receeded back into the molding shower.
    “Sleep tight,” I called to him, stepping into my shorts. I pulled my Slayers t-shirt over my head and left the bathroom.
     I heard my father waking up in the other room and walked casually into the living room. My father saw me and immediately shielded his eyes.
    “God, boy, put on some clothes, would ya?” he slurred.
    “I’m goin’ to the gym, Dad,” I whined.
    “Why the hell ya doing that? Ya’ll ‘r skinnier than a pole!” he yelled, wobbling slightly.
    “I’m growing out of my underwear,” I reminded him.
    “’L right then... ya’ll just don’ go tellin that to yer girl, eh?”
    “Well duh,” I said, splaying my fingers out. He gave a wary nod and stumbled into the bathroom where I heard him heaving up his days worth of beer.
    
    The gym was crowded, as always. It reeked of foot oder and sweat. But, it was the only place that will get me thin enough to fit back into my underwear, so the gym it was.
    People kept on bumping into me. They kept on breathing on me like dogs, grunting like pigs, and worst of all, they would not stop sticking their heads into the water fountain as if they were fish out of water. After they contaminated it, how was I supposed to use it!? Didn’t they know, that in two good months, I would probably be in Beverly Hills? That I would be the next big thing?
    Stupid people.
    I stomped into my crappy automobile and pulled away from the curb of the Gym, completely fuming.
    As mad as I was, I still had my lunch awaiting me at home.
    Pork and beans. My absolute favorite.
    
    I tied the napkin around my neck and dug into the plate. Debbie walked by, and her jaw dropped open in disgust. I looked at her and shrugged, but I was sure Paul would be hearing about this.
    He did.
    “It’s disgusting, Paul!” she screamed, smoke flowing out of her mouth. My dad shrugged, rubbing his neck.
    “Why don’ ya look at his art. See what ‘disgustin’ really means,” he said, lighting his cigarette. Beans poured out of my mouth and nose as I laughed, watching  Debbie's cigarette drop to the floor when she got an eyeful of my painting. Flustered, she stomped on the cigarette and stormed from the room.
     I barely heard her screaming in the other room, “YOU COULD SWEAR THAT MAN IS TEN!”     My dad was back in the room then, sprawling himself into his chair as if Debbie’s yelling made him tired.
    “She’s a keeper,” I said sarcastically.
    “I’m gonna need my hearin’ checked afer this,” he said, shaking his head slowly.
    A scream came from the other room, and Debbie stumbled into the room clutching her heart.
    “There is a raccoon in your bathroom,” she said slowly.
    “You mean Jimmy? Don’t worry. You can piss in peace and he won’t do nothin’ to you,” I laughed.
    “He’s your... pet?”
    “Has been and always will be,” I said proudly.
    Debbie stood the for a moment and then walked into the living room, grabbing her sweater and purse. As she walked towards the door she garbled under her breath what I made out to be, “Piss in peace? I’m not pissing with a raccoon, nor will I ever.” Then she let out some strange, mangled, high pitched laugh and slammed the front door as she flew out of it.
    “Well bye, Dad. I’mma go see Suzie.” I stood up and pushed my plate down the table into the pile that had been sitting there for five days.  
    My dad gave a wave that only required sticking his hand into the air for a half a millisecond before dropping it back at his side. Then he scratched his stomach and fell asleep, caring nothing of the previous situation.
    Back into my crappy automobile I went, and started blaring songs by Vampire Weekend, the band who had probably the worst songs I had ever heard in history. But I could afford nothing more since iTunes cranked up the price of every song but the nobody bands, so Vampire Weekend it was.
    Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa came on just as I pulled up to Suzie’s house, and I gratefully jumped out of the car and ran to the front door, picking a weed from her front yards as I went. When she answered the door, I handed her the weed, and she stared at it like it could be Jimmy the Raccoon.
    “Um... thanks, Thing. Why don’t you come in?”
    When I stepped through the threshold, it smelled like baked potatoes and meatloaf. Suzie’s mom was in the kitchen. She turned to see me and sighed, then turned back around shaking her head. Her father didn’t even notice my presence but started at the T.V. with a distand expression.
    “Mmm... Meatloaf is it?” I asked.
    “Yeah... I guess... you have quite a nose,” she laughed.
    “Well, you know what I say,” I said bashfully.
    “No... not really...”
    “Follow your nose,” I sniffed the air twice, “Wherever it goes!” I sang, and sniffed twice again.  Suzie laughed and gave me a hug. She seemed to have this love my repulsive and slightly abrupt behavior. My fresh behavior.
    She whispered, “You can stop.”
    “Sorry,” I mumbled.
    I sat down at the table and tucked the napkin around my neck, which nobody else at the table was doing. When Suzie’s mom put a pile of meat loaf before me, my nose shriveled up.
    “Oh, I’m a vegetarian,” I stated.
    “But... Thing... Isn’t beans and pork you’re fav-”
    “Except for pork. Pork I eat.”
    Suzie’s mom groaned, “You’re like everyone else. Those god damned kids call themselves vegetarians but they shove their pudgy little faces with meat every day. ‘Oh, I’m a vegetarian. But I eat some kinds of meat!’,” she rambled, “Well then I say, I says ‘Then your not a vegetarian!’, thats what I says to them.”  
    Suzie rolled her eyes, and leaned over to tell me I didn’t have to eat it, but I dug her so much I was already eating some.
    “So, Suzie’s mom-”
    “My name is Barla,” she said loudly.
    “So, Barla, have you heard that I’m movin to Beverly Hills?”
    “Yeah, and I’m the next Madonna,” she snapped.
    “Well, I mean, someday I am. You see, I have this art for singing,” I started.
    “Yeah, as you demonstrated in the doorway. You couldn’t sing for your life, Boy,” she said.
    I shrugged, blushing, and kept my head down for the rest of the meal, listing to Barla talk on and on.
Finally, I looked up when Suzie addressed me.
    “How’s Jimmy?”
    “Oh, fantastic. He’s started eating more. He’s really really-”
    I was interrupted my a loud belch that came from Suzie’s dad.
    “OH CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS, BARNEY! LEAVE THIS TABLE AT ONCE!” Barla screamed, when Suzie grabbed my hand and escorted from the house.
    “Sorry about that...” she said quietly once we were outside.
    “No problem, I’m used to it.”
    She just nodded and climbed into my car.  I jumped into the drivers seat and turned on Vampire Weekend while we sat there in silence, watching the sun set.
    
    I like my life, as weird as it may be. I don’t have to please anybody. I don’t wear clothes that anyone likes. I’m as poor as my raccoon. But hey, I’m Thing Weezer.
    I get to do those things.

Author's Note

I'm open for suggestions, so please feel free to comment.

Reviews

[freaknkamikaze]

I love this!! ^^
Keep up the great work.